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TEASER/EXCERPT: “The Serendipity Practice” January 28, 2025

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Changing Perspectives, Life, Meditation, Music, One Hoop, Philosophy, Vipassana, Wisdom, Yoga.
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Many blessings to everyone, and especially those observing Maha Kumbh Mela. Peace and safe passage to everyone getting ready for a New Year and/or an auspicious date.

May we all be safe and protected / May we all be peaceful and happy / May we all be healthy and strong! May we all appreciate the “accidental goodness” in our lives.

“In all these cases, it is only the relation to time which alters — the process of divination beyond the limits of possible direct knowledge remains the same.“

— quoted from the essay “On the Method of Zadig: Retrospective Prophecy as a Function of Science” (1880) in Collected Essays, Volume 4. Science and Hebrew Tradition by T. H. Huxley

Today in 1754, Horace Walpole, the Right Honorable Earl of Orford, shared the word and meaning of serendipity.

CLICK ON THE EXCERPT TITLE BELOW FOR MORE!

The Serendipity Practice (the “missing” and “long-lost” Sunday post for 1/28)

Yoga Sūtra 3.16: pariṇāmatrayasaṃyamādatãtānāgatajñānam

— “By samyama [focus-concentration-meditation] on the three-fold changes in form, time, and characteristics, there comes knowledge of the past and future.”

Please join me today (Tuesday, January 28th) 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 by emailing myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

Tuesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “01282024 Serendipity”]

If you are thinking about suicide, worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, you can dial 988 (in the US) or call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. You can also call this TALK line if you are struggling with addiction or involved in an abusive relationship. The Lifeline network is free, confidential, and available to all 24/7. YOU CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING.

White Flag is a new app, which I have not yet researched, but which may be helpful if you need peer-to-peer (non-professional) support.

If you are a young person in crisis, feeling suicidal, or in need of a safe and judgement-free place to talk, you can also click here to contact the TrevorLifeline (which is staffed 24/7 with trained counselors).

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.)

### “I’ll pick you up when you’re gettin’ down” ~ Ed Sheeran ###

The Serendipity Practice (the “missing” and “long-lost” Sunday post for 1/28) March 11, 2024

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in "Impossible" People, Books, Changing Perspectives, Faith, Healing Stories, Hope, Life, Movies, Music, One Hoop, Pain, Philosophy, Science, Suffering, Tragedy, Vairagya, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
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May we all be safe and protected / May we all be peaceful and happy / May we all be healthy and strong / May we all appreciate the “accidental goodness” in our lives.

This is the “missing” post for Sunday, January 28th. It includes some previously posted content. In the final notes section, there is a reference to a tragic event. You can request an audio recording of a related practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.

Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.

“The causality principle asserts that the connection between cause and effect is a necessary one. The synchronicity principle asserts that the terms of a meaningful coincidence are connected by simultaneity and meaning…. Although meaning is an anthropomorphic interpretation it nevertheless forms the indispensable criterion of synchronicity. What that factor which appears to us as ‘meaning’ may be in itself we have no possibility of knowing. As an hypothesis, however, it is not quite so impossible as may appear at first sight. We must remember that the rationalistic attitude of the West is not the only possible one and is not all-embracing, but is in many ways a prejudice and a bias that ought perhaps to be corrected.”

quoted from “3. Forerunners of the Idea of Synchronicity” in Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle by C. G. Jung

Causality, the principles of cause and effect, is a big aspect of the Yoga Philosophy — and I am, without a doubt, a big fan. I am quick to go down the proverbial rabbit hole to see how things are connected. Of course, everything is connected: we just don’t always see/make/understand the connections. As indicated in Yoga Sūtra 2.20, “The Seer is the pure power of seeing, yet its understanding is through the mind/intellect.” This doesn’t mean that someone who sees/understands something that others don’t is smarter than those others; it simply means that they see things in a different way… a special way.

For much of my life, I have seen things in special ways. My tendency to seek out connections has resulted in me seeing and making connections that other people don’t initially see/make. At some points in my life, others have viewed the way I think as interesting, weird, cute, and/or a sign of being “smart” (or of “thinking too much”). More than one university professor commented that my logic was sound, but that “no one else” — meaning no one with credentials in the Western canon — had come to such a conclusion and therefore….

Perhaps, you have heard the same thing about something that has occurred to you. Suffice it to say, I heard that something I did was “a bit of a stretch” long before I started teaching yoga.

Thankfully, I received some halfway decent marks despite the fact that my content was unexpected. More importantly, I was never forced to conform and, therefore, never got completely stuck in the trap Carl Jung warned us about: the trap created by believing that there is one way (the Western way) to see things. I eventually understood that the workings of our mind/intellect are based on more than brain chemistry. The way we think is also based on all the different things we have experienced; all the different perspectives to which we have been exposed; how open we are to possibilities other than the ones we are seeking; and how aware we are that we are the ones creating the meaning.

“This discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call Serendipity, a very expressive word, which, as I have nothing better to tell you, I shall endeavor to explain to you: you will understand it better by the derivation than the definition. I once read a silly fairy tale, called ‘The Three Princes of Serendip:’ as their Highnesses travelled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of: for instance, one of the them discovered that a mule blind of the right eye had travelled the same road lately, because the grass was eaten only on the left side, where it was worse than on the right….”

quoted from a letter addressed to Sir Horace Mann, dated January 28, 1754, by Horace Walpole (The Right Honorable The (4th) Earl of Orford, Horatio Walpole)

When Horace Walpole, the Right Honorable Earl of Orford, shared the word and meaning of serendipity, in a letter dated January 28, 1754, he cited the English version of a Persian story (from at least 1302) that had come into the English canon by way of French and Italian translations. Each version of the story is slightly different, but the common elements are (1) a king who sends his sons out into the world to give them the best possible education and (2) the three princes who already have been educated by the best teachers* and tutors in their homeland. As the three princes travelled, they paid attention to all the details around them and — using their knowledge, skills of deduction, and insight (based on “[seeing] things in a special way”) — came to conclusions that were obvious to them but not so obvious to others.

Perhaps the most famous of their adventures is the one cited by the earl, in which the princes described and located a missing camel (or mule). To be clear, the princes were not looking for the animal in question; but, others were looking and those others believed the princes had the animal (or knew where to find it) because the princes knew so much about the animal. They knew it was slightly lame, blind in one eye, missing a tooth and carrying a pregnant woman while bearing honey on one side and butter on the other. They knew all this despite the fact that, at the point in the story when they are accused of stealing the animal, the princes had never seen it! They had only seen evidence of it and made connections that led to certain logical conclusions. While Horace Walpole called the story “a silly fairytale,” others — including Voltaire (in 1747) — recognized the story as containing the cornerstones of deductive reasoning (both psychologically and logically) and of the scientific method.

“Those who are interested in learning more of the fateful history of Zadig must turn to the original; we are dealing with him only as a philosopher, and this brief excerpt suffices for the exemplification of the nature of his conclusions and of the methods by which he arrived at them.”

“[Zadig’s] defence was worse than his offence. It showed that his mode of divination was fraught with danger to magianism in general. Swollen with the pride of human reason, he had ignored the established canons of magian lore; and, trusting to what after all was mere carnal common sense, he professed to lead men to a deeper insight into nature than magian wisdom, with all its lofty antagonism to everything common, had ever reached. What, in fact, lay at the foundation of all Zadig’s argument but the coarse commonplace assumption, upon which every act of our daily lives is based, that we may conclude from an effect to the pre-existence of a cause competent to produce that effect?”

— quoted from the essay “On the Method of Zadig: Retrospective Prophecy as a Function of Science” (1880) in Collected Essays, Volume 4. Science and Hebrew Tradition by T. H. Huxley

Serendipity, like chaos theory, often gets twisted in books, movies, and music. For instance, in the 2001 romantic comedy with John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale, the couple are actually looking for each other and looking for clues that will lead each to the other. Sure, there are all kinds of coincidences (or cowinkydinks) and near-misses that are described (in the movie) as fate. And, I could see how the situation could be serendipitous.** However, the couple in the movie are more like the villagers looking for the camel (or mule) and less like the the princes. What they experience is more synchronicity (i.e., things happening at the same time) than serendipity.

Just as I am a big fan of causality, I am also a big fan of synchronicity and serendipity. As much as I pay attention to cause-and-effect, I often delight in things that just seem to “randomly” fall into place and things (or people) that show up when I “need” them, but wasn’t looking for them.  Granted, there are times when I consider chaos theory and see if I can trace everything back to some little thing that started the domino effect; however, I’m also just open to being pleasantly surprised by “accidental goodness.”

Do you know what I mean? Has that happened to you?

Have you ever read a horoscope or had someone tell you your future and it seemed right on? Have you gone into a practice (or any situation) and been surprised that you got exactly what “wanted” and/or “needed,” sometimes in an unexpected way?

We could say, as Thomas Henry Huxley pointed out in 1880, “In all these cases, it is only the relation to time which alters — the process of divination beyond the limits of possible direct knowledge remains the same.“ However, sometimes there is direct knowledge. Sometimes someone is taking known information and putting it together so that you see/make a connection. Then this becomes similar to the way you can understand what a child makes with their LEGO bricks (the patent for which was filed January 28, 1958, presumably at 1:58 PM). You know what the child makes because they tell you what they are making and your brain fills in the gaps based on the shape. Sometimes, the shape is really obvious — and maybe you have the picture from the LEGO packaging. Other times, your brain really has to work hard to see what the child is seeing.

“If you already understand what I am getting at, you may skip this next paragraph. But just in case, I will clarify: You have a box of Legos [sic] and you build a Lego horse. You then take it apart and put the blocks back in the box. You cannot expect to make a new horse just by shaking the box. How could Lego blocks of their own accord find each other and become a new horse again? No, you have to rebuild the hose, Sophie, And the reason you can do it is that you have a picture in your mind of what the horse looked like. The Lego horse is made from a model which remains unchanged from horse to horse.”

— quoted from the lesson “PLATO’S ACADEMY: The World of Ideas” in the chapter “Plato… a longing to return to the realm of the soul…” of Sophie’s World: A Novel About the History of Philosophy by Jostein Gaarder

Whether we realize it or not, our lives are put together the way our practice is put together — which is the same way we are instructed to build something with LEGO bricks: from the ground up. Aha! moments, lightbulb moments, epiphanies, and even “happy accidents” are all built on a foundation. We have to be prepared to see the things we see, even when we are not expecting to see them. We have to have the picture — i.e., the possibility — in our minds. We also have to be open to the way the bricks are connected. Ultimately, that’s what I’m really asking:

How open are you to these kinds of things?

My guess — and it’s not much of a stretch — is that your open-ness, or lack thereof, is based on past experiences. I mean, on a certain level, everything is based on past experiences. We do something new and a new neural pathway is created, a new thin veil of saṃskāra (“mental impression”) is lowered over us. We do that same thing again and we start to hardwire that new neural pathway, the veil becomes more opaque. Over time, our behaviors and reactions become so hardwired, that our saṃskāra become vāsanā (“dwelling” place for our habits) and we believe that our habits are innate or instinctive — when, in fact, they are conditioned.

This is true when things seem to randomly and luckily fall into place, as well as when a fortune cookie seems to be spot on. This is also true when we are not so fortunate or blessed; when things don’t seem to easily fall into place or when we don’t “randomly” get what we didn’t know we needed. Furthermore, our physical-mental-emotional response to the so-called “happy accidents” is just as conditioned as our physical-mental-emotional response to things not going our way. We are as much like Pavlov’s dogs as we are like the one-eyed mule (or camel) observed by the Princes of Serendip. To do something other than salivate at the appearance of certain objects and/or to eat on the side of the road we can’t easily “see” is “impossible.”

“Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion.  Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary.

Impossible is nothing.”

— quoted from a 2004 Adidas ad campaign written by Aimee Lehto (with final tag line credited to Boyd Croyner), often attributed to Muhammad Ali

Per chaos theory, little changes in conditioning can change the outcome. Those little changes in conditioning can also change our understanding of a situation and its outcome. They change our “space of possibility.” We start to notice causality and, in the process, start to add to the story — which essentially changes the story. At other times, little changes in conditioning can change our understanding of what is possible and, therefore, what is probable.

All that can change our actions. For instance, consider the comedian Jackie Gleason and how he reacted to Elvis Presley’s first national television*** appearance, on January 28, 1956. No one had seen anything like Elvis before and no one knew how far he would go. So, not surprisingly, Mr. Gleason initially missed certain signs (like how the audience reacted to Elvis) and said, “He can’t last, I tell you flatly, he can’t last.”

To be fair (to Jackie Gleason), there were several reasons why the comedian and producer initially missed the signs. First, “Heartbreak Hotel” had just been released as a single (the day before). Second, Elvis was still relatively unknown on a national level and not many people showed up to see Elvis when he first performed on the weekly program Stage Show. Despite his initially reaction, Jackie Gleason and the other producers of Stage Show scheduled Elvis to perform two shows in January and two shows in February. The future “King of Rock and Roll” performed “Shake Rattle And Roll,” “Flip Flop and Fly,” and “I Got A Woman.” By the time Elvis finished the first show, his schedule was extended to include two more appearances on the Stage Show — thanks, in part, to Jackie Gleason observing the situation, making connections, and coming to certain conclusions.

Ultimately, those are the secrets to serendipity and to practicing serendipity:

  • Observing causes and conditions, in order to have as much information as possible;
  • Being open to possibilities (and possible connections);
  • Letting go of what was; and
  • Being right here, right now, with present-moment awareness.

“In no very distant future, the method of Zadig, applied to a greater body of facts than the present generation is fortunate enough to handle, will enable the biologist to reconstruct the scheme of life from its beginning, and to speak as confidently of the character of long extinct beings, no trace of which has been preserved, as Zadig did of the queen’s spaniel and the king’s horse.”

— quoted from the essay “On the Method of Zadig: Retrospective Prophecy as a Function of Science” (1880) in Collected Essays, Volume 4. Science and Hebrew Tradition by T. H. Huxley

Sunday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.

*NOTE: While most of this practice focused on “happy accidents,” I do reference one tragic accident: the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion. On January 28, 1986, all seven crew members were killed, including Christa McAuliffe, who was selected to be the first schoolteacher in space. In the past, when I offered more direct suggestions for personal dedications, I would include a passing reference to family, friends, co-workers, students, and others who remember and were inspired by F. Richard Scobee (Commander), Michael J. Smith (Pilot), Ronald McNair (Mission Specialist), Ellison Onizuka (Mission Specialist), Judith Resnik (Mission Specialist), Gregory Jarvis (Payload Specialist), and Christa McAuliffe (Payload Specialist / teacher). This year, I ended the practice with the words of S. Christa McAullife who said, “If you’re offered a seat on a rocket ship, don’t ask what seat. JUST GET ON!” and “Reach for the stars. Reach for it! Push yourself as far as you can.”

**Spoiler Alert (that’s not really spoiling the movie): Theoretically and hypothetically (because this doesn’t happen in the movie), if the couple in Serendipity were seeking something that ended up getting torn apart, and the pieces were used to make a painting/collage that was placed in a museum — without anyone knowing the source of the material for the collage, then them discovering the information they sought could be considered serendipitous because they weren’t looking for a painting/collage.

*** CORRECTION: I sometimes refer to Elvis’s appearance on Stage Show as his first television appearance; however, it was his first time on a nationally broadcasted show. He had previously appeared on a local broadcast, Louisiana Hayride, that aired on KSLA-TV (in Shreveport, La) on March 5, 1955.

### “I’m gonna pick up the pieces” ~ Ed Sheeran ###

Lagniappe (the Sunday post) November 22, 2021

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Abhyasa, Books, Buddhism, Changing Perspectives, Depression, Food, Gratitude, Life, Loss, Meditation, Music, Philosophy, Suffering, Vairagya, Vipassana, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
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This is the post for Sunday, November 21st. 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.

Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.)

“277. The heart has its reasons, which reason doesn’t know;
we know this in a thousand things. I say that the heart—if
it works at it—naturally loves the universal being, and also
naturally loves itself; and it hardens itself against one or the
other as it chooses”

.

–  quoted from “Section 4: The routes to belief” in Pensées (Thoughts) by Blaise Pascal*

There’s a moment we probably all experienced at least once or twice as a child  – possibly even as an adult. It’s that moment when we lose something we thought or felt we had been promised. I think of it as the “fallen ice cream” moment. You know, that moment when you’re enjoying something – like your favorite ice cream cone on a hot day – and then a good majority of the ice cream falls and goes splat on the ground. Maybe it’s in the middle of an intersection or may there’s a dog that very “helpfully” starts cleaning it up.

Either way, that ice cream is gone.

Sometimes it’s even worse if the bottom falls out and it’s the last bit that you lose. Still, either way, for a moment, you forget all about the ice cream you had and/or have left. For a moment, all you’re thinking about is the loss. What’s even worse is if you were told it would fall if you didn’t stop licking on the one side; or if you were told you had to be careful of the bottom; or if you and your siblings had been told to stop horsing around. It’s worse, because that warning means that someone (usually you) are responsible for the inevitable consequences. So, then there’s some anger, blame, shame, and guilt, mixed in with the grief.

Sure, we can say it’s a kid’s grief over something inconsequential and sure we can say we’re going to get over it – and we do. However, for a moment, we’re only focused on the loss. And even after we finish the ice cream we still had left, we can feel like we missed out on something. There’s a hollowness; that too is grief.

Ever have that experience? Ever consider that that experience – an experience that can ruin your whole day – was all in your head? It’s true. I’m not saying that the thing didn’t happen. Whatever happened absolutely happened. The loss was real. The grief was real. Even the way you physically embodied that experience, the hollowness, was real. But the whole experience was based on the fact that you lost something you valued. In other words, the whole experience was based on the fact that you lost something you appreciated and something to which you had an attachment.

Consider how extreme that feeling can be. Not only that feeling you had as a child; consider that there is something (or someone) you have lost as an adult that left you with that same “if I just had more…” feeling. Wanting, desire, passion – which comes from the Latin word meaning “to suffer” – are part of life. Loss and the physical and emotional sensations associated with it are part of life. Philosophically, part of the Yoga practice is about opposites. So, as you think about that extreme reaction to unexpectedly losing something or someone, consider the opposite.

How do you feel when you unexpectedly receive something you value and appreciate?

“We picked up one excellent word—a word worth travelling to New Orleans to get; a nice limber, expressive, handy word—’lagniappe.’ They pronounce it lanny-yap. It is Spanish—so they said. We discovered it at the head of a column of odds and ends in the Picayune, the first day; heard twenty people use it the second; inquired what it meant the third; adopted it and got facility in swinging it the fourth. It has a restricted meaning, but I think the people spread it out a little when they choose. It is the equivalent of the thirteenth roll in a ‘baker’s dozen.’ It is something thrown in, gratis, for good measure. The custom originated in the Spanish quarter of the city. When a child or a servant buys something in a shop—or even the mayor or the governor, for aught I know—he finishes the operation by saying—’Give me something for lagniappe.’

*

The shopman always responds; gives the child a bit of licorice-root, gives the servant a cheap cigar or a spool of thread, gives the governor—I don’t know what he gives the governor; support, likely.

*

When you are invited to drink, and this does occur now and then in New Orleans—and you say, ‘What, again?—no, I’ve had enough;’ the other party says, ‘But just this one time more—this is for lagniappe.’”

.

–  quoted from “Chapter XLIV. City Sights” in Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain

I grew up in and around the Gulf Coast, where you are just as likely to hear someone refer to “lagniappe” as you are to hear them refer to “baker’s dozen.” Lagniappe is a Louisiana French word for that little something extra a customer receives for free when they make a purchase. Think of a free beignet with your café au lait or hot chocolate; a little cookie beside your gelato; or a bundle of peppers from a roadside vegetable stand. Like so much of Louisiana’s culture, the word is a mixture of Spanish, French, and Quechua – an indigenous language found in Peru and parts of Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, and Ecuador. It’s a word, and practice, that you will find in other areas of the world that have been exposed to a similar mixture of cultures.

While lagniappe is often associated with hospitality, “a baker’s dozen” is whole-heartedly connected to commerce. In a modern context we think of it as 13, but at least one source marks it as 14. According to The Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets (2015) and other sources, the practice of adding an extra loaf (or two), to an order of a dozen dates back at least to the thirteenth century England. Some attribute the practice to the Assize of Bread and Ale, which regulated the price, weight, and quality of bread and beer. Some say that because homemade bread and rolls varied in size and weight, bakers would add a little extra in order to guarantee they were not selling below the standard. When John Camden Hotten published his 1864 edition of A dictionary of modern slang, cant, and vulgar words, he indicated that the bakers were incentivized to add that little extra because the penalties for underselling goods included fines, destruction of the baker’s oven, and being placed in the stocks (or pillory) and subjected to public humiliation.

However, in The Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets, Darra Goldstein notes that the original practice of adding a loaf (or two) to an order of a dozen, may actually be connected to “hucksters.” If you only know the word in a modern context, especially in the United States, then you may associate the word with someone who is out to trick you. However, the etymology of the word can be traced to medieval words meaning “to haggle” and vendors who either sold things door-to-door or from roadside stands. Hucksters of old not only haggle with their customers, they would also be quite loud and showy as they hawked their wares. (Yes, “hawker” is another term that is sometimes applied to this type of peddler.)

Some of these peddlers would water down ale or in other ways deflated the value, which  (combined with their showiness) is why the term became a pejorative. However, the original meaning of “huckster” was just someone who was trying to make a living by selling things – a job made harder by stall taxes and  things like the the Assize of Bread and Ale, which required hucksters to sell goods for the same price at which they purchased them. The law meant that they only way the hucksters, who were often woman, could make any money was if they had a little extra to sell. The bakers knew that they could sell more of their baked goods with the help of the hucksters and so they would throw in a loaf (or two) to give the hucksters a little advantage. Hence the reason why the extra was sometimes called “in-bread” or the “vantage loaf.” All in all, a mutually beneficial practice that kept the economy flowing.

Speaking of flowing…

For many years, I didn’t teach for about ten days each November because I was in Texas stage managing a production of the ballet The Nutcracker. I would typically have subs while I was gone and most of the people who came to the studio classes were regular attendees who had purchased packages. If you purchased a package of six, ten, or twelve you received a price break – meaning that if you based your calculations on the drop-in rate, you received an extra class or two (depending on the size of the package). So, one could think of the class with the sub as lagniappe. I often think of subs treating people to a little something extra because people get to experience different ways of sequencing; the opportunity to practice something I don’t often cue; and/or a different perspective on some aspect of the practice. All of those are, to me, like an extra donut hole – a sweet nothing!  

For the last two or three years, I’ve had these extra days to share the practice with the people with whom I love to share the practice! And, so, the question becomes: What will be the little something extra?

Or, more importantly, what will people appreciate?

Feel free to check out this post related to last year’s practice, if you want a little mo’ about the practice.

I mostly teach vinyāsa practices, which means there’s movement and an inclined series that often involves some variation of a push-up. But, I also teach with a lot alignment and breath cues, not to mention the theme. If you’re someone who is familiar with a “flowing” practice that is not taught with an alignment focus, the alignment cues can be a little something extra. If you are use to an Iyengar Yoga practice, where you may not encounter an inclined series very often, the vinyāsa can be like extra green chilis thrown in your bag. Of course, a lot of people don’t cue the breath unless they notice everyone is out of breath – so that can be the lagniappe. Then too, if you typically practice a seated meditation like vipassanā, where there is heightened focus on the breath and how it feels to breath, all the movement and poses are lagniappe.

Finally, there are my themes, which some people would say are just… extra.

“I don’t know where I am going, but I am on my way.”

.

–  attributed to Voltaire*

November 21st is the considered the anniversary of the birth of the writer, philosopher, and historian Voltaire (whose nom de plume or “pen name” could be a class all unto its self). Born François-Marie Arouet, in 1694, this prominent figure from the Age of Enlightenment wrote in pretty much every form and about pretty much everything related to life – including science, religion, freedom of speech, love, social standings, and the hardships of life. While he wrote about tolerating others and their beliefs, his views were often couched in racism, anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and other forms of bigotry. Just to be clear, he was an equal opportunist when it came to his opinions about how others were wrong and could (and did) use his witty to eloquently slam people who were perceived like him just as easily as people who were perceived as different.

His words (as evidenced by the ones I used here and in class) are often thought provoking, which can be a good place to start when putting together a class – if, you know, we leave out all his horrible views and actions and just focus on his words out of context. (But, to be honest, I wasn’t feeling it.) Voltaire had notoriously bad health and an autopsy revealed that had an enlarged prostate – which means he could be the entrée for a Movember theme. (To bad all the images of him are extremely clean shaven.)

In the end, I went back to that feeling of unexpected loss and how so much of what we feel – physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and energetically – is in our heads. One aspect of the Yoga Philosophy is how our thoughts disempower us and how we can use our minds (and the practice) to overcome the obstacles and ailments that arise with the obstacles. Similarly, Buddhism focuses on how we can end our suffering. Ultimately, it all comes down to perspective and how we think about what we are experiencing.

As we head into this week where so many will be giving thanks, take a moment to consider how you experience and express appreciation (sometimes without saying a word). Then consider how often your appreciation, and expression, show up as attachment or aversion – which Patanjali classifies as afflicted/dysfunctional thought patterns that lead to suffering. Finally, take a moment to contemplate how much of your experience is controlled by your thoughts.

“A witty saying proves nothing.”

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–  quoted from Le dîner du comte de Boulainvilliers (The Dinner at Count Boulainvillier’s) by Voltaire (pub. 1728)

Today’s playlist is is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “07072021 Bread & Chocolate”]

*Errata: During Sunday’s practice, I misattributed the first quote (see above) and it’s entirely possible that one of the other quotes attributed to Voltaire is actually someone else’s statement. My apologies. Hopefully you didn’t quote me.

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### “If a picture paints a thousand words, /
Then why can’t I paint you?” ~B&C ###