You’ve Got The Power June 15, 2020
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Uncategorized.Tags: avidya, Dean Radin, Pandit Rajmani Tigunait, Patanjali, Pema Chodron, Rainer Maria Rilke, sankhya, siddhis, Stan Lee, Sāmkhya Karika, truth, vipasana, Walt Whitman, yoga philosophy, Yoga Sutra
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“…re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
– from the preface to Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
“…I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming, as an especially blessed and pure way of living; train yourself for that but take whatever comes, with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will, out of some need of your innermost self, then take it upon yourself, and don’t hate anything.”
– from Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke (Letter #4 to Franz Kappus, dated July 16, 1903)
As you will see, I am looping back around to a previous post. Really, I am looping back around to several posts and several conversations, including a couple of conversations about dana (much thanks to Adam and Cameron) after last week’s Common Ground practice (on Zoom). However, I feel I should preface this by saying a couple of things, so….
First, I am surrounded by a lot of really smart people – and I have been all my life. Some people are intellectuals; some are even recognized as such. Others are intellectually smart – even if they don’t have a lot of formal education. Some are labeled as fun, but you would be ignorant to underestimate their knowledge base. Still others are smart, savvy in a way that underscores the origins of “savvy,” which comes from Spanish by way of pidgin English for “you know.” (In other words, they know things – and they may or may not have ever read about those things in a book or seen them in a movie.) Second, teaching yoga the way I do is a little like being a comedian (or any kind of writer) in that if we have a conversation or any kind of interaction there’s a good chance you’re going to pop up in my practice. After all, one of the lojong or “mind training” techniques in Tibetan Buddhism is, “Whatever you meet unexpectedly, join with practice.”
Keeping all of that in mind, you can be sure that when I post a title like “How Ignorant Are You?” – as I did on Saturday – I did it knowing that it was blunt, in your face, and that a lot of people’s knee jerk reaction is, “Well, I’m not ignorant, but [insert person of choice]….” Calling someone, or even implying that someone is, ignorant is a great way to push someone’s buttons. It’s like calling someone racist when they are exhibiting racist behavior (especially when they believe they are “not racist” and/or believe they are straight up “woke”). It’s also like calling someone racist when they have been a victim of systematic racism (especially when you do so while exhibiting your own racist behavior). These are great examples of shenpa, which Pema Chödrön translates to as “the hook” and is a sign of attachment (which is one of the afflicted thought patterns that produces suffering).
Avidyā is the Sanskrit word for “ignorance.” It can also be translated as misconception, misunderstanding, or incorrect knowledge. We may also think of the English word as “lack of knowledge.” No matter how you view it, we are all ignorant of something – either because we have not experienced it (i.e., perceived with our own senses); we have not inferred (or logically deduced) it based on information we have perceived; and/or it has not been revealed or taught to us through sacred text (i.e., the documented experience of another). Note that I have been very specific about how we can lack knowledge. I have been very specific, because these descriptions are specifically outlined in the Yoga Sutra 1.7 as vidyā (“correct knowledge”), which is obviously the opposite of incorrect knowledge.
Correct understanding and incorrect understanding are two of the five mental functions. But, perhaps even more importantly, the five mental functions (correct understanding, incorrect understanding, imagination, dreamless sleep, and memory, as indicated in Yoga Sutra 1.6) fall into two categories: klişțāklişțāh (“afflicted and not afflicted”). Afflicted thought patterns create suffering and there are five afflicted thought patters: “Ignorance (or lack of knowledge), false sense of self, attachment (rooted in pleasure), aversion (which is attachment rooted in pain), and fear of death of loss.” Again, I’m very specific here, because these are the definitions outlined in Yoga Sutra 2.3.
Furthermore, these afflicted thought patterns (which I referred to as “dysfunctional” on Saturday) are all connected. When we don’t have correct knowledge or understanding about the world that means we also don’t have correct knowledge or understanding of ourselves (and others). That initial lack of knowledge leads us to create stories so that, inevitably, we define ourselves according to the things and people we like (attachment rooted in pleasure) and the things and people we don’t like (attachment rooted in pain). Finally, we fear change, because all change is the end/death of something and a loss of something – specifically the death or loss of ourselves and our world as we know it.
Take a breath. Let all of that settle in for a moment before you move on to the next paragraph.
So, Patanjali starts off his explanation of the 8-limb philosophy of yoga by explaining how the brain/mind works and then gets into the practice, which is how we can work (work with / play with) the mind. Along the way he mentions siddhis, which can be loosely translated as “powers.” It is more literally “fulfillment: or “accomplishment.” Even if you’ve never delved into any Sanskrit texts, this may sound familiar if you know the story of the Buddha (Siddhartha Guatama), the story of Siddhartha Finch, and/or you’ve been to one of May the 4th classes (when I talk about Jedi Knight tricks). More often than not, when random people (myself included) talk about siddhis in the context of yoga, we are talking about the extraordinary (or “Supernormal” as Dean Radin calls them in the book of the same name) powers/accomplishments Patanjali describes at the end of the yoga sutras. However, when he goes deeper into the nature of afflicted or dysfunctional thought patterns, Patanjali indicates and alludes to the side effects – in other words, some of the direct suffering – of these thought patterns.
Patanjali specifically points to nine obstacles to practice and to maintaining a clear, joyful mind (YS 1.30) plus five physical conditions which arise because of the obstacles (YS 1.31). The physical conditions (pain, mental agitation, unsteadiness or trembling limbs, abnormal or unsteady inhalation, and abnormal or unsteady exhalation not only arise from the obstacles, they also feed into the obstacles. So, it is a constant loop of suffering that dulls the mind. And all of this starts with those five afflicted or dysfunctional thought patterns, specifically ignorance. I could go on all day about this (and have), but my focus today is on some very specific powers we lose when we are steeped in avidyā.
“The nine obstacles described in the previous sutra rob the body of vitality, strength, stamina, and agility, and the mind of clarity and peace. The absence of these obstacles is the ground for joy. Their presence is the ground for pain, which in turn leads to the four other debilitating conditions….”
– commentary on Yoga Sutra 1.31 from The Practice of the Yoga Sutra: Sadhana Pada by Pandit Rajmani Tigunait, PhD
In commentary, which is based on comparative analysis and lived practice, Pandit Rajmani Tigunait, PhD, describes how our minds (and bodies) become disempowered in 28 different ways. These different types of disempowerment fall into three categories: (1) disempowerment of our mind and senses, (2) disempowerment of our inner sense of fulfillment, and (3) disempowerment of powers unique to humans. Now, the first category manifests as dullness in experience; we are riddled with doubt and the world loses its vibrancy. Think about how food tastes (or lacks taste) when you are steeped in depression or sadness versus how it tastes when you feel alive and engaged. The second category has a series of subcategories (with their own subcategories), but let’s just say that we experience one (or more) of these nine subcategories when we are rigid in our beliefs; when we are satisfied with the (spiritual) trappings of our beliefs and believe those external trappings will bring us peace; when we procrastinate; when we fall into what I call the “fate/predestination” trap; and/or when we use any of a number of logical arguments to avoid engaging in worldly matters. The third type of disempowerment is a loss of power related to “powers and privileges unique to humans.”
Here, finally, is the focus for today! According to the Sāmkhya Karika, possibly written around the same time as the Yoga Sutras, humans have the following six siddhis:
- the power of discovery (i.e., intuitive knowledge;
- the power “to give a form to sound, assign meaning to each segment of sound, and to store both sound and meaning in memory….[and] the capacity to communicate both sound and its meaning to others. We also have the capacity to give a visual form to each segment of sound and the meaning associated with it[;]”
- the power to “study, analyze, and comprehend” abstract ideas no matter how they are (effectively) communicated;
- the power to eliminate “three-fold sorrow – physical, mental, and spiritual;”
- the power to “[cultivate] a good heart; finding friends;”
- the power of dana, which is “the ability to give.”
“I’ve got the power
I’ve got the power
It’s getting, it’s getting, it’s getting kinda hectic
It’s getting, it’s getting, it’s getting kinda hectic”
– from the 1990 song “The Power” by Snap!
Now, I (personally) can’t say for sure that all of these are unique to humans, but I do feel comfortable saying that most very clearly are human abilities/powers. I’ve experienced them in myself and in others, and one of the things that has struck me over the last week in particular is how much of these siddhis are being lost, dulled, or completely short circuited in people all over the world. Yes, there are some people all over the world who are experiencing their powers – even recognizing the responsibility that comes with their powers – and using their powers for help those around them. But, I bet if you could identify and poll those people, most of them would also say they have felt a loss in powers. So, the question becomes, how do we activate our innate powers? According to the sacred texts, the removal of ignorance is the key (or secret) to experiencing true peace, fulfillment, and freedom. Furthermore, every system of religion and philosophy recommends surrender in order to obtain that key or secret.
If you’re interested in a little sweet surrender, please join me on the virtual mat today (Monday, June 15th) at 5:30 PM for a 75-minute yoga practice on Zoom.
This is a 75-minute Common Ground Meditation Center practice that, in the spirit of generosity (dana), is freely given and freely received. 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.
If you are able to support the center and its teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” my other practices, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible, class purchases are not necessarily.)
There is no playlist for the Common Ground practices.
“We have both the wisdom and the courage to share what lawfully belongs to us with others. We are designed to experience the joy of giving. This joy is the architecture of human civilization, characterized by self-sacrifice and selflessness.”
– commentary on Yoga Sutra 2.24 (as it relates to “dana”) from The Practice of the Yoga Sutra: Sadhana Pada by Pandit Rajmani Tigunait, PhD
#### “… with great power there must also come great responsibility” SL, et al ####
The Bard of Democracy (and of getting better air in our lungs) May 31, 2020
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Uncategorized.Tags: Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, Dr. Robert Hudspeth, I Sing The Body Electric, Leaves of Grass, Ralph Waldo Emerson, slavery, The Poet, Walt Whitman, Willa Cather
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“Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers, and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort, and advancing on Chaos and the Dark.”
“A political victory, a rise of rents, the recovery of your sick, or the return of your absent friend, or some other favorable event, raises your spirits, and you think good days are preparing for you. Do not believe it. Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles.”
– excerpts from the essay “Self-Reliance” by Ralph Waldo Emerson (b. 05/25/1803)
“I was simmering, simmering, simmering. Emerson brought me to a boil.”
– Walt Whitman (b. 05/31/1819) as quoted in a February 1902 article by John Townsend Trowbridge, published in The Atlantic Monthly
There are times when we have so much churning inside of our minds and our bodies that it can make us physically ill. It churns and churns, until it spills over. Or, another analogy is to think of all of that emotion as water inside of a pot on top of an open flame: it’s “simmering, simmering, simmering…” until it boils over. When we are children, we are taught to be mindful of the hot stove and the pot that sits on top. We watch our elders; placing various ingredients inside, stirring, churning, adjusting the flames – even tasting along the way, sometimes even letting us taste a little. We watch and learn that we can make something delicious, or potent medicine, or poison, or paint and dye. We watch and learn that if we don’t pay close attention we will make a big, unusable, inedible mess. We watch and learn that if we are not careful, we can hurt ourselves or others.
Many of us in the United States of America were raised with the idea that America is the great melting pot – a mixture of so many different cultures and flavors coming together into a single delicacy. The term started gaining traction as a metaphor for the USA after the production of the play The Melting Pot, which premiered in Washington, D. C. in October of 1908. The play had a happy ending. However, years before it was written (way back in the mid-1800’s), writers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Walt Whitman had noticed that no one was watching the pot, or the open flame.
Emerson encouraged American scholars, clergy, poets, and every day people to take responsibility for the-pot-on-the-flame that is society. He kicked off the Transcendental movement and inspired people like Whitman, who decided he would be “The Poet” that Emerson said was needed to capture the spirit of America. Born today in 1819, Whitman was the father of “free verse.” He wrote about what he observed and what he perceived. So, he wrote about baseball, and slavery, and leaves of grass, and women’s bodies, and women’s rights, and men’s bodies, and their rights, and his own body, and about all of humanity crossing a single point over decades. He wrote about breathing, and about questioning everything.
6
….
“Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float, and the soil is on the surface, and water runs and vegetation sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?
7
A man’s body at auction,
….
Gentlemen look on this wonder,
Whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for it,
….
Within there runs blood,
The same old blood! the same red-running blood!
There swells and jets a heart, there all passions, desires, reachings, aspirations,
(Do you think they are not there because they are not express’d in parlors and lecture-rooms?)
This is not only one man, this the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns,
In him the start of populous states and rich republics,
Of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and enjoyments.
How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries?
(Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could trace back through the centuries?)
8
A woman’s body at auction,
She too is not only herself, she is the teeming mother of mothers,
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.
Have you ever loved the body of a woman?
Have you ever loved the body of a man?
Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations and times all over the earth?
If any thing is sacred the human body is sacred,”
– excerpts (abridged) from “I Sing The Body Electric” by Walt Whitman
The first edition of Leaves of Grass (published in 1855) contained twelve unnamed poems in 95 pages. It was a collection intended to fit in someone’s pocket. Right off the bat, Whitman had critics – and those critics included luminaries like Willa Cather (who called him “that dirty old man,” “the poet of the dung hill as well as the mountains,” and compared one of his poems to what would happen “If a joyous elephant should break forth into song….” But, among his fans, was Whitman’s inspiration: Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson’s approval inspired Whitman to not only produce a second edition of Leaves of Grass (published in 1856), but to add poems and increase the number of pages to 384. He did not stop there, however. After “33 y’rs of hackiling at it” (according to a letter Whitman wrote to a friend) – or after “thirty-five or forty years” (as announced in the New York Herald) – Whitman released the sixth, seventh, or ninth edition (depending on how you count) shortly before his death. This 1892 edition is referred to as the “deathbed edition” and contained almost 400 poems.
In a mini biography for Biography, Dr. Robert Hudspeth, Research Professor of English at Claremont Graduate University, said, “Whitman was called ‘The Bard of Democracy’ because all of his poems are based on the notion of a universal brotherhood. He thought that the possibility of America was to achieve a brotherhood that no other culture had yet been able to achieve.” This view of what the country could be was a true melting pot – that is to say, a heterogeneous society becoming a homogeneous society by virtue of all the cultures melting together to form something new. Whitman saw the ideal (American) society as one where everyone recognized the value and humanity of everyone else. What he saw around him, however, was that the-pot-on-the-flame that is society was boiling over. Instead of coming together, melding together, everything (and everyone) in the proverbial pot was churning in a way that overflowed; meaning, some things (and some people) were getting pushed out of the coming together process. The country was becoming homogeneous not because it was melding together, but because it was excluding certain aspects that made it heterogeneous.
Whitman tried, he really did, but ultimately, he could not get enough people to pay attention to what was happening around them. People, even back in the 1800’s, were distracted by his sexuality and the sensual nature of the poems. Writers like Willa Cather referred to his work as “ridiculous” and people in power (including the head of the Department of the Interior, for which he worked) called Leaves of Grass offensive, filthy, and/or sinful (especially to Christians). As harsh as some of that sounds, these are some of the least caustic reviews. (Much worse was actually printed in the press.)
And so here we are… Fast forward and the-pot-on-the-flame that is society has officially boiled over. Walt Whitman knew it was coming and he didn’t just leave us a little advice. He left us a whole manual for moving forward. In the preface to Leaves of Grass he wrote “This is what you shall do….”
“This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
– from the preface to Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman believed in celebrating the body, exploring, questioning, and coming together – and we can do all that in yoga. Please join me for a 65-minute virtual yoga practice on Zoom today (Sunday, May 31st) at 2:30 PM. You can use the link from the “Class Schedules” calendar if you run into any problems checking into the class. PLEASE NOTE: Zoom 5.0 is an upgrade that went into effect yesterday (Saturday, May 30th). If you have not upgraded, you will need to give yourself extra time to log into Zoom.
Today’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify.
(NOTE: The YouTube playlist includes recordings of some of the poems, as part of the before/after class mix. These tracks are not included on Spotify.)
“Let us go forth awhile, and get better air in our lungs.”
– Walt Whitman writing about the new game, baseball, in the Brooklyn Eagle (07/23/1846)
A Joyful Practice 