The bodies and rosy faces just kept coming through the door. The weather came down rainy and cloudy. People jostled each other as they waited for us to sort out their names and cash and run their cards for donations.
I was not prepared for the sheer number of people, and neither was Cheryl. We stood behind the desk in amazement, trying to sign people in and orient our new arrivals as quickly as possible. Only afterward did we think to widen the practice space by moving the shoji screens to fit ten more people in the practice space.
Forty-five people packed into the Lotus Bloom studio, which normally holds eight to eighteen people in one class on any given day. Nine o’clock in the morning on Thanksgiving Day. “Wow, look how many people hate the holidays,” one voice said over the commotion. That comment made me smile. Or I thought people just like yoga.
As I sit here reflecting, I have no idea why people came to class that day or any day, but I do know that they were there for a reason. That morning I joked nervously, “I know you’re not all here to see me.” They humored me and laughed, I smiled and fumbled my way through a few more introductions. They beamed up at me as I found my groove and gave my sermon on Grace and Gratitude.
I might never know someone’s real reason for coming to yoga. Motives interest me less and less, but what I am interested in is helping people get where they want to be going. Asana postures (shapes) are just one way to literally put our bodies on the line. When effort is made in the gesture to know oneself fully, that is a worthy effort. Any gesture put forth on the path of yoga is seen and heard by the universe. It is said that when we take one step towards god, god takes ninety-nine steps toward us. I believe this is true.
The best-kept secret that no one ever told me, until now—
“LIFE IS DIFFICULT.”
Thank you, Dr. M. Scott Peck and his book, The Road Less Traveled, for telling me (us all) the truth.
Life is difficult. Period. AND the fact that “life is difficult” is not a problem and it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you (or me). (Parents, please tell your children that life is difficult and that this is OKAY!)
I’ve spent way too many years trying to be perfect because that’s what I thought everybody wanted from me—I lived under the assumption that I had to get it “right” the first time, or else.. or else what? I didn’t pause long enough to think this who thing through.
Recently I was reflecting on my early years as a yoga student (age 17) and how I thought my yoga teachers wanted me to get the instruction the first time they said it. Years later (just last month) I realized that not only did I not “get it” the first time, I wasn’t supposed to understand the instruction right away. I had to let time pass, I had to embody the instruction, I had to live it. I had to mature into a body that could understand.
So moving forward, now as I get to embody being a yoga instructor, I encourage my students to dive into the practice for the “long haul.” A lifetime of learning and embodying the teachings over, and over again.
The truth is we don’t want each other to be perfect, we want each other to be REAL. Yes?
Real is what you get after a long day of hard work—washing dishes, planting and harvesting food, being with children, sitting at a desk answering telephones, cooking, cleaning, wading through the piles of shit, (literal or preverbal)—dirt under your fingernails, sweat between your breasts, an aching back, a stiff neck, a pounding head, tired eyes, hunger pains, and the knowledge that tomorrow you’ll wake up and do it all over again… because this is what it means to be human, and This. Is. Real.
(Note: you’ll also get a taste of Real after long periods of boredom, or gut-buckling laughter, or sobbing really hard).
Why then, you ask, would anyone want to be born just so that they can go through a difficult existence? And isn’t that why we’re all aiming for the day we can “retire”?
Well… yes, and… not really……
There is so much joy that comes with being human. Moments of joy are in harmony with moments of pain. The pain doesn’t have to override the joy. We will experience both. And retirement is a myth in case you’re still diluting yourself.
Let’s use the story of Prince Siddhartha as an example—a prince, protected from all pain and suffering, in a magnificent palace, surrounded by only the most beautiful courtiers and yet, “Something—as persistent as his own shadow—drew him into the world beyond the castle walls.”
Siddhartha wanted more than beauty, riches, and good company. He was called by his higher self to become fully human. We are all called beyond our castle walls—we are not drawn to be perfect, but to be Human, to become more real.
One way to BE with ourselves and with one another is to recognize that everyone we encounter has a broken heart—this is what it is to be human, to have a body, to live on planet Earth, so experience suffering and joy one and then the other over and over again.
I’ve tried to hide my humanness by trying to be perfect when in fact I was scared of being found out, of being real.
The mind is sneaky. It makes up stories and tells all sorts of lies. What are your castle walls hiding? What are you hiding behind? Trying to be perfect, strong, brave, out-going wealthy, poor, or a know-it-all [insert your own word here]?
These are a few simple, tried and true tools that I use to help me RELAX and let go of trying to be perfect (or strong, or brave, or outgoing):
SLOW DOWN in order to really listen to the body, to nature, to others.
SOFTEN because this goes against our natural tendency to “push harder” in order to succeed. (Which is another great topic: “Redefining What Success Means,” which I’ll save for another time.) Softening shifts my old habit patterns. Shifting these patterns changes the way I age and I like this because I want to bring more attention to all parts of my life especially as I grow older.
PULL WEEDS I’ve been pulling up tumbleweeds instead of mowing them down because I want those f*$%#ers gone! Plus there are so many great metaphors for pulling weeds, like, “You need to get to the root of the issue if you want it gone for good.”
Life is difficult and it’s good this way because difficult is not a problem. Really. Difficult is simply what is. Life is sweetness and sorrow together. So I choose to Celebrate life in this body.
Where are you hiding out? Where are you trying to make things better than they are? When we confront our challenges and recognize our own setbacks as tools, teachers, and have gratitude for those things we cannot change, we make space for Love.
“Where gratitude exists, only love exists.” –Arnaud Desjardins.
I slow down. I drive the speed limit. I returned to a paper calendar with little, tiny squares where I “plan” my day. I meditate first thing in the morning rather than go for a run. I read novels.
I soften. I listen more and (try to) talk less. I eat more cheese and bread. I grow my hair long and wear it down. I don’t wear much make-up.
I pull weeds. Literally. I do my own dishes and take out the trash and cook more. I read cookbooks. I get my hands dirty and walk barefoot on the earth. I build a house.
Dinacharya is a Sanskrit word that means, “Following the rhythm of the day.” Like a metronome, what we do consistently every day sets the rhythm for our life, whether we are conscious of it or not. I started studying Ayurveda many years after I completed my first yoga teacher training. I was looking for something that would help me find peace of mind and bring some semblance of balance into my life. That’s when Ayurveda found me. Ayurveda means, “The science of living,” which is a 5,000-year-old science that comes from India and takes its cues from Great Nature. What I discovered was that “balance” looks more like wobbling back and forth and all around rather than poise, or serenity, a fixed point on a spectrum.
What I continue to learn about my own organic nature in relationship to the Universal Nature, is that what I do every day matters. Not the grand gestures but the little things like brushing my teeth twice a day, hydrating first thing in the morning and eliminating my bowels fully (so that I’m not walking around full of sh** all day) meditating for 22 minutes, doing a 10-minute yoga asana practice, journaling for 10 solid minutes every day, and consistently eating three meals a day between the hours of 9 AM and 5 PM and not snacking. We’re talking the brick-and-mortar of “yoga,” of life, of every single day no matter where I am on planet earth. I follow the rhythm of the day, for example, I go to bed when the sun goes down (more or less) and I eat warm foods in Winter, and my whole body becomes more intuitive, resilient, and intelligent. I become more natural. It may seem so simple, but when I fight the urge to go to bed when I feel tired, I create dis-ease in my body, mind, and spirit.
Ayurveda tells us that diseases are generated at the junctions of the season, the moments when one season changes into another. –Dr. Robert Svoboda, Ayurveda for Women: a guide to vitality and health
The teachings of Ayurveda remind us that it is better to engage in daily activities which prevent illness before it occurs. As practitioners of yoga and students of life we are encouraged to live in a way that allows optimum flow of energy/prana/life force.
The Three Pillars of Dinacharya:
Body—a healthy flow of energy in the body, mind, and spirit allows each human time and space to rest, digest, and reset/rebalance. Drink plenty of water first thing in the morning to have a complete elimination, eat your food in a relaxed manner, with gratitude, sitting down, aim to be in bed before 10 PM to give the digestive system a chance to detox naturally. (Read Dr. Claudia Welch’s book Balance Your Hormones for more on this topic.)
Mind—as the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali states, Yoga Chitta Vrtti Nirodha, “Yoga is the cessation of all self-limiting thoughts, patterns and tendencies within our personal energy field,” Bhavani Silvia Maki.
Spirit—”A living human being is a body-mind-spirit complex. Each part of you—organs, tissues, skeleton, nervous system, emotions, mind and others—possesses its own form of awareness, and each of these awarenesses relates together,” writes Dr. Svoboda in his book, Ayurveda for Woman, (p. 15). When start to pay attention to our bodies a whole world of awareness opens up. When we start to heed the signs that our bodies give us, we start to trust our own Great Nature.
As with any path of yoga, it’s life-long. Be gentle, go slow, and have faith. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.
Yesterday I taught the 9 AM yoga class, as the snow came down outside and covered everything in a fresh blanket of white powder, I spoke about the anticipation of change and newness that is present on New Year’s Eve. In my short life, I have been let down on New Years Day and Christmas Day and my Birthday, and most Mondays because of my expectations. I actually believed I would grow sparkly wings, but my wishes didn’t all come true, and when I woke up I had to face the fact that unicorns didn’t run wild in the hills of Chino Valley Arizona. And at the same time I know that magic does exist. Ordinary, Everyday Magic. The magic of sitting quietly by myself in the early morning before anyone else is awake, the magic of making really delicious food, the magic of an Arizona sunset. I know this as fact. The Tibetan Buddhists called it Drala, or “Ordinary Magic,” which appears when I slow down and pay attention.
Looking for some credit-worthy source to back me up on this opeinion, I came across the book, Ordinary Magic: Everyday Life as Spiritual Path, edited by John Welwood. Here’s a passage from the intoduction:
As children we have all felt, at least occasionally, a powerful sense of wonder at being alive in this world. Yet in growing up, we mostly lose that sense of magic. As we become caught up in worldly ambitions and burdens, life becomes increasingly routine, humdrum, and one-dimensional.
Magic, as I am using this term, is a sudden opening of the mind to the wonder of existence. It is a sense that there is much more to life than we usually recognize; that we do not have to be confined by the limited views that our family, our society, or our own habitual thoughts impose on us; that life contains many dimensions, depths, textures, and meanings extending far beyond our familiar beliefs and concepts.
The loss of a sense of the magic and sacredness of life is also happening in our world at large. In traditional cultures living closer to the natural world, people had a more immediate sense of larger forces shaping their lives. Gods and demons were near at hand. And the culture provided rituals and symbols that helped people remember the larger sacred dimentions of life in the midst of their daily activities. Walking, eating, lovemaking, working—indeed, every activity and life passage—were endowed with religious or symbolic meanings that helped individuals connect with the larger, universal forces shaping their destiny.
Now that we have become disconnected from the cycles and rhythms of nature, we frequently seem to miss the whole point of being here at all as we rush thorugh the whirlwind of our busy lives. Yet being busy is not the main problem. What does it matter whether we have ten things to do today or just one, since we can do only one things at a time in any case? The problem with having ten things to accomplish is that while doing one, we are often dreaming or worrying about the success or failure of all ten. The speed and compulsion of our thoughts distract us and pull us away from where we are at each moment.
The word dis-traction is particularly useful here. It suggests losing traction, losing our ground—which is precisely what happens when we slip and fall away from being present. It is only in the stillness and simplicity of presence—when we are aware of what we are experiencing, when we are here with it as it unfolds—that we can really appreciate our life and reconnect with the ordinary magic of being alive on this earth.
p. xiii-xiv
I declare this year the year of “Ordinary Magic.” Slow down, be present. I was joking with my friend Sera yesterday that when I feel the urge to “Wreck House” as we like to say, what’s really going on is the need to move some energy but my mind goes off the deep end and spouts off things like, “Get a puppy, have a baby, buy a car, spend more money, eat the whole chocolate bar, kick, punch, kick,” but what I do instead is sit down and keep my hands to myself (and shut up for at least 20 minutes.)
When I learn that my thoughts are not to be trusted I am able to connect with something way more real than the constant fluctuations of the mind. That something else I’m calling “Magic” today. As my yoga teacher, Bhavani Maki said, “Yoga is the process of making the impossible possible.” And making magic requires a combination of effort and ease. “Leaning forward slightly off balance,” as Andrew Cohen said. We must do our own work. We must do our own work. I am not repeating myself, I am writing it again for emphasis.
“Every time I leave your yoga class I have to adjust my rear view mirror because I’m two inches taller,” Ron said to me as he left my 9am Monday morning class.
I first met Ron when I was subbing for another teacher in the Yoga Basics Class. Ron came up to me after that class and said, “I really like the way you teach. I don’t want to just roll around on the floor anymore. I want to be challenged.” Ron is in his 70s or 80s (I’m not really sure even though I don’t think he’d mind if I asked him outright). “Can I come to your other other classes” he continued, “and will you help me even if I can’t do all the poses?”
I smiled, thrilled inside that he wanted to continue to deepen his practice, “Yes, of course!”
I’m so inspired by Ron’s commitment to keep learning and growing and challenging himself even at a rip “old” age. Even though he can’t do all the postures, and for the first month he came to my class he used a chair most of the time, his desire for learning new things and expanding his own sense of himself is what keeps him coming back.
I admire Ron for his willingness to engage the yogic principle of constant change even in his aging body.
After a month of him coming to my classes, Ron showed me the silver rings he wears around the middle finger of his right hand—it reads “Namaste” in Sanskrit. The divine light in me honors the divine light in you, which is the divine light inside us all.
He always thanks me when after each class. This is how I remember my students.
Update: August 14, 2017—Ron no longer uses a chair, he’s breathing easier in every posture, his balance has improved, he’s letting go of the stiffness in his upper back, and he’s still smiling when he leaves my class. “Namate.”
