Reliable Sources

In the last couple years, I have been studying Somatic Experiencing® and Vedic chanting and this has meant connecting with teachers. After a long time of finding myself usually in the role of teacher (which I do enjoy), it has been really nice to be in the role of student. I appreciate having someone I trust and who is clear, sharing information with me and helping me see things. And, at the same time, I am painfully aware of teaching all kinds of things over the years that I later came to think were untrue or unimportant or would have taught differently.

In sutra 1.6, Patanjali lists the five mind movements: pramana (valid knowledge), viparyaya (misperception), vikalpa (imagination), nidra (sleep) and smrti (memory). Then in sutra 1.7, he describes valid knowledge, pratyakshanumanagamah pramanani. It comes from direct perception, inference or a reliable source. As I’ve been sitting with this, I’ve gotten a little discouraged—valid knowledge seems hard to come by! I think our whole yoga practice is aimed at trying to help us see things more the way they are. In the mean time, reliable sources seem important. And I have to keep in mind that even if a teacher or text gives me really good information, I may misinterpret what I think I hear. That’s in addition to the fact that any human, even one who is evolved and wise, is still subject to their own misperceptions.

So I guess we just have to think of increasing our valid knowledge as a process of getting closer and closer to the truth or clarity. Maybe the one piece of valid knowledge we can have is the fact that mostly we don’t have it. And we should choose our sources carefully.

Let’s end with a little story.  For years, I mean YEARS, I have identified myself as kapha. If you are unfamiliar with Ayurveda, the ancient medical tradition from India, there are three constitutional types and one is kapha (it’s not even important at the moment what that means). And then in the last six months since I’ve changed my diet pretty significantly, I’ve been becoming more aware of my pitta-ness (pitta is another of the three constitutions). I was talking with Trish Foss (a great Ayurvedic practitioner) a few weeks ago and she commented on the fact that I seem very pitta, but she had heard me self-describe as kapha. I told her I’d been noticing that and she sort of non-chalantly said, “Maybe you’re pitta with a kapha imbalance.” And that seemed like a little light bulb. I was having some direct experience and then had information from a reliable source and I think I got closer to the truth. And now I’m going to hold it lightly—it seems righter than what I thought I knew before, but I can guess that my understanding will likely change again.

For more info about therapy and yoga with me: www.seattlesomatictherapy.com

Are You a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?

Sutra 1.5 says vrttayah pancatayah klishtaklishtah which mean something like, “There are five kinds of fluctuations of the mind, which can be either painful or not painful.” Klishta comes from the same root as klesha for you wordy geeks out there. Now, I find it pretty fascinating that Patanjali has narrowed down all of our mental activity into five types, but since all of the next sutras are about those and he hasn’t named them yet, there’s not much to say about that here besides “really?”

So what we’re left with is the klishtaklishtah part. Any of these movements of the mind can be problematic or not problematic. This seems important. All of our mental activities fit into five categories and none of these categories is inherently good or bad. I will only speak for myself when I say that the first thing my mind wants to do with a list of five categories is figure out which ones are good and which ones are bad. But once again, I am out of luck. Things are more complex than that. So, for instance, jumping ahead, the first type of vrtti is pramana, which can be thought of as valid or correct knowledge, We might think this is the “right” mind movement, but we also all know it can be painful (like seeing the truth about ourselves or other people). And the second type is misperception, which is often the best we can do and therefore isn’t exactly problematic in those situations. Each type of mind movement has a part to play at certain times.

So this sutra makes me think about how everything, everyone has the potential for both good and bad, to contribute and to detract, to connect and to disconnect, to inspire and to discourage, to grow and to stagnate. I know this isn’t exactly what Patanjali was talking about, but that is what is occurring to me today. What just popped into my head for the title of this post is the line from The Wizard of Oz—"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" If you haven't seen or read Wicked, it has the best answer to that question, which is both (or neither). It's complicated.

For more info about therapy and yoga with me: www.seattlesomatictherapy.com

Elections and the Mindstuff

I have talked to a number of people who said they got kind of obsessed with the elections and watching the news and keeping track of what was going on.  They all seemed to be relieved the elections were over.  This is the sort of situation where our sense of who we are gets blurry. Of course, the elections are important and they impact our lives in a real way . . . sort of. I say sort of because it’s not like the day of the election or even the inauguration, anything in my actual life changes. My day will be very much like the day before—any changes are pretty small and it would be hard to pin them on the president, congress, governor or any of the other folks that I don’t even personally know. Now, I want to be clear that I am NOT saying that we should all be apathetic because none of it matters. What I am saying is that it is easy to lose perspective on who we are and what’s urgent and where to focus our energy (elections and election coverage are just one example of this).

When my attention keeps going to a certain person, topic, situation, when my mind fluctuations are all churned up, I get confused. The last sutra said that when the mind is calm, the seer resides in his/her own true nature. This next sutra (1.4 vrtti sarupyam itaratra) says, “Otherwise, s/he assumes the form of the mind fluctuations.” I think part of how this works is that if I am able to direct my mind where I want it to go (i.e., choose where to focus my attention), then I realize that I am not my mind or thoughts—I am operating them. If I don’t have any ability to control my thoughts or attention, then they are running the show and I don’t have any sense of separation from them. In fact, most of us don’t like the idea of not being the one in charge, so I probably want to believe I am my mind, so that I can think I am in charge instead of being pulled around like a dog on a leash. 

If I can choose to watch the election coverage or not watch the election coverage, then I have at least an inkling that I am separate from the election coverage. If I am sucked into it over and over and all of my thoughts are about the election, then it becomes a bigger and bigger part of my reality and I have a harder time experiencing my self as something beyond that. I feel like I can hear people bristling up on this saying something like, “But the elections are really important.” Yes, the elections are important. I usually like to choose more mundane examples, but this is what I’ve been thinking about. You can try it with something else, if that seems easier. See what is happening for you with your sense of who you are in relationship to your thoughts and how much you are able to direct them.  Let me know.

True Nature

So, the next sutra (1.3) is tada drashtuh svarupe avasthanam and translates as “Then the seer abides in his own true nature.” “Then” is referring to the last sutra—when the mind fluctuations are restrained or directed, then we are able to experience our true nature. As I started to reflect on this sutra, I was also getting ready to go on a 10-day Vedic chant immersion. I was predicting that this would be a good opportunity to have some moments of experiencing my true nature. These moments weren’t really as transcendent and enlightened as I might have liked, but that’s not really how I roll (thus the name of the blog, “Keepin’ It Real.”)

I left my house at around 4:20am on a Friday to travel to Santa Fe, so by the time I went to bed at something like 9pm, I was very tired. But then I didn’t really fall asleep. What I noticed was how completely content I was lying there most of the night. My body was happy to be lying down and my mind was quiet. I was feeling very restful and easeful even though I was quite awake. Of course, at some point, there was a thought, “I am so peaceful right now,” which was enough to take me out of the experience and turn it into something. Then I wasn’t feeling as true naturish.

I have heard many times “Peace (or love, joy, compassion, etc.) is what is there when you aren’t doing something else.” I think that’s what this sutra is about. That peace is always there, we are just distracted by all of the activity of our minds and our lives that we don’t feel it.

As the chant training went on, I continued to be very tired every night. There are lots of times that I am tired, but I do more stuff anyway—check email, work, read, watch tv—all of which further stimulate me. But last week, I mostly just went to bed (maybe knitting a few rows first). This also seems connected to this sutra—the lack of compulsion toward more activity, the ability to just be okay with stillness (i.e., not following the following the chittavrttis and letting them make more). There is some part of me that doesn’t need to be doing or accomplishing anything. I think sometimes the mistake we spiritual types make is thinking that the aim then is not to do anything, to get to some quiet place where I am just sitting there all the time. It seems to me that when we are first getting to know this true nature part of ourselves, less activity is helpful, but that eventually, we can be connected to that part even while we are going about the business of life. And, in fact, we are here to live life, not to side-step it. The question is:  how do we participate fully in life and maintain some sense that we are something beyond the actions, thoughts and outcomes? How do we let our lives be directed by our true nature instead of having our lives be a process only of conditioned mind?

(find out more about me and what I do at www.seattlesomatictherapy.com)

What's Happening in My Head

Sutra 1.2 yogashchittavrttivnirodhah is a definition of yoga. Yoga is the restraint of the fluctuations of the mind. Restraint can be thought of as stilling or focusing (or maybe both). So I’ve been looking at the mind movements in my own head. What’s going on in there? Well, there is an ongoing commentary about just about everything. But one of the things I notice that happens a lot in there is a planning of things I am going to say (which for the most part I never end up saying despite the rehearsing and re-rehearsing). The first time I saw this was when I was on my first week-long silent retreat at the Zen Monastery Peace Center a few years ago. I spent the first 24 hours or so planning what I was going to tell people about the retreat when I got back! (So I was trying to figure out what I would say about the retreat I hadn’t even experienced yet). It had to be that ridiculous while I was practicing silence and didn’t have anything else to do but watch my mind for me to see it. This is probably why we need a whole text on the topic—it is so pervasive and constant that we don't even notice it happening.

If we build on the message in the last sutra, which is that yoga is now, then it becomes pretty clear why that involves quieting the mind. All of the commenting and planning and judging and reviewing that goes on in there takes me out of the present moment. I’m not experiencing what is actually happening—I’m thinking about being on the retreat instead of being on the retreat.

The other thing that comes to mind in relation to mind fluctuations is all the current hoopla around the election and debates. If you watch or listen, the newsfolks keep going around and around repeating the same things (commenting and planning and judging and reviewing like my mind does). I watch because it seems important, yet I find it just keeps the mind fluctuations going. I have to wonder if it is useful. Nothing comes of it. One could argue that it might spur me to action, but in my experience, action borne from chittavrttis doesn’t compare to action borne of clarity (which is what we get when we calm the chittavrttis).  

Now, all the rest of the yoga sutras talk about how to do this (restrain the fluctuations of the mindstuff) and I am no expert, but what I can tell you is this.  It is possible to quiet the mind and it takes a lot of work and determination (24/7). What I realize in reflecting on this sutra is that I have slacked off.

Now

Atha yoganushasanam is the first of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras.  It means something like, “Now begins the instruction of yoga.”  Swami Venkateshananda explains that atha doesn’t just mean now but indicates some auspiciousness, that now is the moment when everything comes together to make this explication of yoga possible. It occurred to me the other day that the other important meaning of the word atha or now in this sutra is that now is the only thing—we can only learn about yoga in this present moment.  We have to be here now (to quote an oft-quoted book title) in order to do anything, including studying or practicing yoga.

When I was driving home a couple of days ago from the Samarya Yoga Teacher Training, I got frustrated with a few drivers and even passed some cars on the two-lane road. At some point, I was driving behind a black car, maybe a Trans Am (if people still drive those). I think I was off-and-on irritated with the driver’s driving who sometimes put on the brakes for no apparent reason, but mostly I was thinking about all kinds of things, about the training, about this blog, about yoga and probably all kinds of other mundane things. Then, the car in front of me braked again and I braked and said out loud, “What the f**k?” And then the driver put his arm out the window and flipped me off. And it was a quick trip back to NOW. I suddenly realized how unpresent I had been.  I will admit that I occasionally tail someone who is not driving according to my standards, but in this instance, I actually had no idea I was being a pain in the ass to this driver in front of me—I was just off in my own little world. And then I had the opportunity to wake up.  I was back in the now and I was grateful for that.

I Don't Feel Like It, Part 2

I bought some peaches this week. Like many fruits, peaches are usually not ripe when you buy them, then they are ripe for a limited amount of time, and then they are not good anymore. I, personally, am pretty picky about my fruit ripeness, so my ideal window of opportunity can sometimes be small. It’s possible that “I don’t feel like” eating the peach when it is ripe.  What occurred to me today when I was eating the last perfect peach is that when I eat that perfect peach at the right time, I am not going to have a bad experience—it is delicious. If I don’t eat it then, I miss the chance forever (either I won’t eat it at all or I eat it and it isn’t very good). Now, nevermind being wasteful and the starving children in Africa—I bought the peach because I like peaches, so who is it that doesn’t feel like eating it? By having “my” ideas about the right time for things, I end up not being in sync with life’s right time for things. This little separate self thinks it’s got a better idea than life. Yoga says this is the main cause of suffering—avidya (ignorance). When I know am part of life and I am in the flow with life, then I don’t need to worry about when I do or don’t feel like doing something, I just do what life shows me to do.

I Don't Feel Like It

Today I went to a flying trapeze class! Long ago, I bought a groupon and it was about to expire, so this week I finally got around to registering for class. This morning, as I was driving there, I was wondering why I was doing it.  The impulse I had felt way back when, when the offer arrived in my inbox, was long gone and I was definitely having an “I don’t feel like it” moment. I was going, but I wasn’t really feeling too excited and kind of thinking I’d rather just laze around at home.

And then (of course), it was totally fun.

I think I should just always be on the lookout for “I don’t feel like it.” Now, I was just thinking of this on the way home from the class today, so I haven’t done a full investigation. I’m not exactly sure what the whole process is and what’s going on, but I have reason to believe that when I’m hearing that kind of whiny voice in my head saying “I don’t feel like it,” at the very least, I need to at least check it out, try to see what’s happening. I suspect that a lot of the time it doesn’t have much to do with what I do or don’t want to do, but maybe has more to do with resistance or conditioned mind trying to talk me out of something. “I don’t feel like it” seems like it is more of a mental conversation than an actual feeling, at least some of the time. There is definitely more looking to do here (svadhyaya or self-study). I’m sure I’ll have another opportunity soon—maybe when it’s time to vacuum!

A Cup of Tea

I used to drink a cup of black tea with sugar and half and half pretty much every morning. Like many coffee drinkers, it was part of my morning ritual—the smell, taste and process of making my tea were all comforting in a way. When I started the elimination diet, I cut out sugar, dairy and caffeine, so that was it for my morning tea. I tried herbal teas, but they just didn’t do the same thing, plus it’s “summer” so the hot beverage wasn’t quite so important. There was so much adjustment at first that I didn’t pay much attention to the tea aspect of things.

Eventually, as things got more settled and re-calibrated, I realized that I did miss my tea and set out to find some sort of suitable substitute. After trying a variety of alternative sweeteners and dairy substitutes, as well as green tea, black tea and decaffeinated black tea, I think I am accepting the fact that my cup of tea might be a thing of the past. This final conclusion happened just this morning right about the time I was opening up my laptop. I made a cup of assam (my favorite black tea) and used a dollop of heavy whipping cream (my naturopath said though she doesn’t do dairy, she does this one thing in her tea in the morning and something about how since it’s pretty much all fat, it’s not so bad) and some honey (because the thing I can’t do, I think, is go back to having refined sugar every morning).

And it’s just not the same. It might be the sugar, but I actually think my taste for the tea has changed. I couldn’t even drink the whole thing. So once again, I am faced with the difference between reality and my idea of reality or how I think it should be or something like that. Rather than continuing to remember how my tea used to be, it’s time to refer to my more current experience. So as in the last post, I am thinking about how things change. Things change and it is my job to let them change—neither pushing nor resisting.

I am reminded of another thing Sonia said in that workshop. Sutra 2.1 (tapah svadhyaya ishvarapranidhanani kriyayogah) is often interpreted as something like yoga is practiced through effort, self-study and surrender. Sonia’s teacher, Desikachar, says instead, “act, observe, be open.” I have found this so helpful. The be open part asks us to allow the results of what we do to be what they are. Simple and straightforward instructions for life. I guess I am done longing for my old experience with tea.

The In-Between

We all know change is inevitable and yet we often resist.  There have been changes aplenty for me in the last year and I am finding that, counterintuitively, one of the things that helps is a willingness to be in the in-between place.  A friend recently shared a sort of mantra, I think from Joan Boryensko, “No longer and not yet.”  That’s a good one—how do we let go of something when we don’t know for sure what is coming next?

It seems like at least part of the difficulty has to do with identity.  Ego (ahankara or asmita) likes to say, “I am . . . ” or “I do . . . ”  The more ego turns something into an identity, the harder it is to let things change.  Lately, I’ve been thinking about this in relationship to how I eat.  A few months ago, I decided to do an elimination diet to see if I have any food sensitivities.  Pretty soon, I was getting used to eating very differently than I had been and even though I didn’t find anything dramatic, I was feeling pretty good and it just seemed to make sense to keep going.  It seems to me that if I had held on to my old identities as someone who eats dairy or sugar or whatever, I may have reverted back as soon as the official elimination protocol was done.  Then the diet change becomes an aberration, just a thing I did.

The other side would be to create a whole new identity as someone who is “gluten-free” or “vegan” or whatever, which doesn’t really feel right.  I don’t know how long I will eat this way.  I didn’t set out to become something different.  I mostly just think, “This is how I’m eating right now” and that seems true.

I went to a workshop with Sonia Nelson recently that was about change and she was talking about Sutra 2.15 and saying that one of the ways change causes suffering is when it is happening too quickly or too slowly.  And I wrote it down, even though it seemed not that earth-shaking to me.  But maybe this is getting at the same thing.  If I am holding on to an old identity, then the change feels too fast for me.  If I am grasping after or trying create a new identity, then the change feels too slow.  If I can allow myself to be in the in-between, then the change can go at the speed it wants to go and I have time to adapt and to actually see what is happening instead of trying to control it.

Blame No One

In November, 2011, Amma came to visit the US.  She comes every November and just makes a couple stops (not like her huge summer tour), but as 9/11 had just happened, we weren’t sure she would be able to come.  But she did.  During the retreat’s Q&A, I think someone asked about the situation and she said, among other things, “Blame no one.”  I have remembered that sentence clearly ever since.  Blame no one.

At 6pm this past Sunday, I was standing at the Snohomish Little League field.  It took me an hour to get there (including the time I spent lost) and, much to my dismay, when I looked around, I saw no purple uniforms anywhere.  Which means my nephew’s all-star team wasn’t there.  I called my mom only to find out not only was at this field at the wrong time, I had missed another game that was actually closer to home.  There was a wave of sadness followed by a wave of anger.  I was very frustrated.  But somehow, I didn’t go to blame.  I didn’t blame my mom, myself or anybody else.

I could see quite clearly what my part in it was.  I had completely misinterpreted the text message my mom had sent by making assumptions and I didn’t reply.  In that moment, I saw how I often don’t respond to others’ communications in a timely way or at all and how that causes difficulty (always easier to see when it causes difficulty for me).  But it didn’t need to be my “fault.” 

There is a difference between blame and responsibility.  Not blaming doesn’t eliminate responsibility; it’s just that there are usually so many factors involved in any one thing happening that it just doesn’t really make sense for it to be all somebody’s fault.  It makes it seems like we have more control than we do.  But I can see my part—I can see how I contributed.  And in a weird way, that actually feels good (as opposed to blame, which pretty much always feels bad).  When something happens and I ask “What’s my part in this?” I can learn something.  So not blaming seems like one of the many ways to practice ahimsa (non-violence), which allows us to practice svadhyaya (self-study) because it is so much easier to look at myself when I'm not going to get hit with blame, shame and judgment.

Delusional

Sometimes I can hardly bear being at the gym.  There are lots of things there that might cause this reaction, but the thing that drives me nuts is seeing all the crazy things people do thinking that they are getting a better workout.  Putting extra weight on the machine, more resistance on the stairmaster, more incline on the treadmill, then contorting themselves into weird positions to make it work.  It just seems delusional.  And, sadly, it seems so darn representative of the general delusional nature of our society—just a giant disconnect in the quest for results.

So the question this brings up for me is “where am I delusional?”  I too have blindspots where I am contorting myself into false realities—where are they?  When I start looking, I feel like I see them everywhere.  Virtually all the time, I am thinking that something should be different than it is.  It is quite incredible how little time I spend in the reality of the present moment.  I should be happier, I should have more clients, I should write more, my marriage should be different, I should wake up earlier, I should have gone for a bike ride instead of coming to the gym.  This is delusion—I just looked it up in the dictionary.  Delude means to deceive the mind.  Delusion means a false belief or opinion.  Since the Buddha and the ancient yogis talk about delusion, we can know that it something that we humans do, but it does seem like perhaps Americans have taken it to a whole new level (watch the movie Inside Job about the 2008 financial fiasco if you’re not sure).

I do like having a visual though.  When I catch myself shoulding, I can picture those folks at the gym and remember how ridiculous it is to deny reality.

Conquering Dualities

Boy, I have been meaning to post for a while.  I have been interested lately in a certain duality that seems to come up frequently for me.  I noticed some weeks ago how funny my obsession with getting the best parking spot by my office is.  I get so happy when one of the very closest non-time-limited spots is available and can be weirdly dejected when I have to park a block away (oh, woe is me).  When I notice this, it seems silly, which flips me over to the other side of the duality—it doesn’t matter and/or I don’t care. 

Now, I’m seeing this process everywhere.  Like I usually eat a salad for lunch that is a lot the same from day to day, but there are some ingredients that are crucial while others are more variable.  The other day, I left off the toasted sunflower seeds (which fall into the crucial category) and I was very focused on the lack until I switched to the it-doesn’t-really-matter line, trying to convince myself that the salad was just fine.  Which, of course, it was AND it would have been better with the sunflower seeds.

We ended up talking about this a lot on the recent yoga teacher training—the idea that two seemingly opposing ideas can both be true and also that there is a vast area between “everything has to be exactly so” and “I don’t care” (it’s not either/or, it’s a spectrum of gray).  While parking places and salads can feel important to me in a given moment, it’s not hard for me to realize that they don’t have a very big impact really and also that it’s okay for me to have preferences.  There are other things, big things, that really do seem important, like environmental destruction or poverty, which make the duality more interesting.  When I find myself in the “it doesn’t matter” place with these, it becomes clear that this is a coping strategy—I feel so helpless or overwhelmed, that I just want to give up or check out.  The helplessness arises directly out of the sense that this thing is so important that it has to change now and it’s up to me.  If I didn’t swing so far one way, I wouldn’t swing so far the other. 

There is a commonly quoted yoga sutra, sthirasukhamasanam, which is usually translated as something like, “One’s posture should be steady and comfortable.”  Donna Farhi has a translation I love:  “Through steadfastly abiding in the part of the self that is unchanging, one finds ease within the posture of the moment.”  People talk less about one of the sutras that follows (2.48) that describes the result—if you are able to be steady and comfortable in your pose, you conquer dualities.  It makes sense to me; if I am able to transcend or integrate opposites in my posture, this will lead the way to doing it in other parts of my life.  This middle way is not rejecting either side, but embracing them both.  I feel like I’ve been sitting with this koan, “How can something be important and not important at the same time?”  I say it’s a koan because I feel like I’m getting to understand it, but I can’t really explain it to you.  

Cultivating Generosity

It’s aparigraha month at The Samarya Center.  Aparigraha is non-grasping, non-hoarding, non-greed, non-accumulation of material things.  One of the qualities I don’t admire in myself very much is stinginess.  I’ve been thinking about the difference between greed and stinginess because I don’t think greediness is one of my main issues (to me, that’s about trying to get a lot, grabbing after and collecting up money or stuff or whatever).  But one of the opposites of greed would be generosity and one of the opposites of generosity would be stinginess.  Stinginess is not so much about accumulation, but about holding on tightly to what you have.  Greed implies having a lot (which is relative of course), but a person can have not much and still be stingy.

I have been reading a marketing book lately and the author repeatedly states that you have to give people value, whether they are clients, potential clients, professionals in your network or anyone else that you want to connect with.  That means you have to “give people value” before they are paying you (or if they never pay you).  Now I agree with this 100%.  You can’t be afraid of doing things for free—you show people what you know and can do and that’s what makes them want to work with you.  I’m on board . . . to a point.  That’s what I realized.  I want to give value and be generous, but there is part of me that wants to hold something back to make sure that I still have something to give.  I don’t want to give all the information (or whatever else) because what if next time I don’t have anything else to say.

Holding on seems to be about fear.  This feeling that I have to parse things out so I can save something for the future, just in case, is fear.  I would rather trust that there is enough, that I will learn more, earn more, have more.  And, I will say, I have gotten a lot better at that.  I’m just bumping up against the next edge.  The only thing that is coming to me right now in terms of practicing is:  to notice when I am holding back or holding on, when I am feeling reluctant to share, and then share anyway, give a little more.  For many years, I have used tipping in restaurants as a way to practice this.

So, in the spirit of cultivating generosity in myself and giving value, I recently developed a free online resource.  At the risk of sounding like a cheesy self-help book, I call it 5 Simple Activities to Help You Feel Better . . . Right Now.  Get more info here.  

Oh Rain

I’m just opening this up and putting my fingers on the keyboard and hoping something will happen.  After a few days of sunshine, it’s raining again.  My experience is that the sunny days make the rain not so bad.  And I am sure there are folks out there thinking that the rain coming back just shows how nothing good ever lasts.  Either way, it’s raining.  How I’m feeling today has less to do with the rain than with what I say to myself about the rain. 

I was recently having a conversation about affirmations with a group of therapists, about how a lot of times, affirmations are a load of crap.  I don’t really think the answer to feeling more okay with ourselves and life is lying to ourselves.  I don’t think the point of yoga or life is to like everything, to be happy all the time, to never get irritated and I think that this is one of the biggest misunderstandings about yoga and other spiritual pursuits.  Personally, I want to become more human, not less human.

There are a number of yoga concepts that seem to fit with this conversation.  Satya is the practice of being in reality—the reality is that it is raining and that, even though it seems more tolerable because we’ve had some sun, I’d still prefer that it were sunny today, and there is not a darn thing I can do about the weather.  Santosha always seems close to satya.  It’s the practice of contentment.  Notice that it is a practice, not just something I’m supposed to be.  Can I realize that I’m okay, my life is okay, even though it’s raining?  Can I even enjoy the daffodils’ sunny little faces and the tulips that are getting ready and know that the rain is part of what makes them possible?  I don’t have to be glad it’s raining to be able to find something to appreciate or be grateful for.

Finally, I’m thinking of pratipaksha bhavanam or cultivating the opposite.  This is the one that can be confusing and really fits with what I was saying about affirmations.  Patanjali is not saying that if I am bummed it’s raining out, I should just tell myself I’m not and that will help me experience yoga.  It’s possible to acknowledge my own real experience, whatever it is (whether it seems “yogic” or not) AND, at the same time, see if I can look at things from another perspective, which is a little like the examples I was giving for santosha. 

Do I want to spend more time feeling good than feeling bad?  Yes.  Do I want to feel like I don’t get emotionally tossed around by every little thing that happens on the outside?  Yes.  Do I want to be flatlined or some happy yoga robot?  No.  If my sense of well-being is not dependent on things outside of myself, it’s actually easier to own the fact that I have likes and dislikes.  Imagine:  you could even enjoy not liking something.  Could be fun.

Mindstuff

So the night before last, I was awake all night.  I had a headache and it wasn’t letting me sleep.  One of the interesting things I noticed was about the “thoughts” I was “thinking.”  My husband and I had spent the whole evening talking about a job-related decision he had to make—we had covered all the ins and outs and ups and downs.  Then finally we went to bed.  I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be sleeping because of my head and that he wasn’t going to be sleeping because of this decision.  All through the night, the main activity I would notice in my mind was “thinking” about all of the various things my husband and I had been talking about.  I keep putting quotation marks around the word thinking because what I realized was that I wasn’t really thinking.  It was just words and phrases and images flashing through my mind.  I wasn’t producing them or doing anything with them, they were just there.  But I could see how easy it could be to label it as worry or anxiety—if it had been my own decision rather than my husband's, I surely would have called it anxiety and I think I very well might have jumped right in and started wrestling with those “thoughts,” trying to go over everything one more time and sort things out.  But instead it was just what my mind was doing and really wasn’t very different at all from the pain I was experiencing physically.  Both the thoughts and sensations were just happening, moving, fluctuating, with nothing at all to do with “me.”

Patanjali’s definition of yoga is something like the “restraint of the modifications of the mindstuff.”  You always hear this term mindstuff.  I always thought it was kind of funny and maybe sort of understood why people would use this term, but I feel like I get it a little bit more.  "Mind" sounds like an entity, an object (though it isn't really), but "mindstuff" is the stuff of the mind, which is all this activity that we usually call "thoughts" only that doesn't seem like the right word because it implies thinking (which to me is a more active process than what's happening all the time in the mindstuff).  I’ve also heard an interpretation of this sutra (maybe from Jivamukti?) that says yoga is disidentification with the modifications of the mindstuff.  I think that’s what I got a clear taste of lying there in bed—not just not engaging with these thoughts but really seeing them as something completely separate from me.  Which is why, I guess, Patanjali goes on to say that when we do this, we know our own true nature.  I’ll leave you with this really great quote I just read by Wei Wu Wei:  “Why do you suffer? Because 99.9% of everything you think and everything you do is for yourself and there isn’t one.”

Process Update

So right at this moment, I am basking in the amazingness of what happens when we don’t think we already know what’s going to happen or that we have to make something happen or that things have to hurry up.  Things will unfold and, because as a human I am so limited, chances are that they are going to unfold in ways I don’t expect or couldn’t even really imagine—life is so much bigger than me.

In class this week, I was framing my current experience within the context of brahmacharya, which has a lot of meanings from celibacy to moderation.  What I have been thinking about is the idea of restraint, of not following the first impulsive idea that comes into my head—refraining, which is maybe something like containing, which I suddenly realize as I am writing this is related to continence, which is, in fact, another term used for brahmacharya (in case you thought I was making this up).  In practicing refraining from following my habitual patterns or just trying to get out of discomfort, I make room for something bigger to happen and don’t spend a lot of extra energy trying to clean up the messes I make when I react impulsively or regretting my actions.

Now, maybe the most interesting part of all this is that I don’t really think of myself as someone who has trouble with restraint.  On the spectrum of possibilities, I am closer to restrained end than the impulsive end.  So what I am talking about here is not holding back, suppressing or not acting in order to wait something out so it will be over (all of which I do sometimes).  I think it’s more about containing the behavior of the small “s” self (the individual, separate person), so that more possibilities become available.  I am refraining from doing something to get out of this moment that I am in right now.  I realize that restraining/refraining/containing may not sound like that much fun, but I’m telling you it’s good.  

The Process of Process

I have had some big stuff going on in my life and I have been trying to stay with the process of it, rather than jumping to the conclusion, which maybe has been my pattern in the past.  Well, I’m pretty sure it has been because the pull that way is really strong.  If I think I know how this is going to turn out in the end, then why don’t I just do that now so I can “get on” with things?  If I follow this through, I can see that it could lead toward missing out on life by just trying to get on with it.

So I have actually been feeling proud of myself for being able to stay in the process, which means being in uncertainty and resisting the desire to know what’s going to happen.  It’s been pretty amazing.  Just this week, I realized that when I’m in process, everything is included vs. when I’m focused on the outcome, I view most of what is happening as off-topic, distracting, getting in my way, etc.  That is kind of cool.  When I’m in that process place, I feel like my consciousness is literally getting bigger, I am stepping back and taking more in, becoming more spacious.  It feels like something good and important is happening.  But it can be kind of uncomfortable to feel like you are being stretched like that.  Sometimes I think I can’t handle it. 

In fact, just a couple days ago I thought, “F**k process.”  It never ends!  I just feel like I’ll never know what to do or just never do anything if I stay in this process of awareness and acceptance and presence.  I can feel it right now.  It makes me want to yell. 

It has taken a lot of tapa (effort, discipline) to do what I’ve been doing.  In the Yoga Sutras, tapa is grouped with svadhyaya (self-study) and ishvara pranidhana (surrender or devotion to God).  For sure, there has been a lot of self-study in going slow and paying attention rather than just forging ahead toward an end result.  The surrender part seems like it has to do with accepting the fact that I am not in control.  I could make a decision and do something, which would give the illusion of control, but he only real control comes from seeing what’s really happening.  Also, I guess the fact that we can’t be in a place of effort all the time.  It’s not sustainable.  So sometimes I just have to let go and surrender to the doubts and confusion and frustration, to just allow all of my reactions and responses to be there.  And that’s all part of the process.  See how that works?  Process swallows everything up.  There is nothing outside of process, which is starting to sound like another word for life.  So even though sometimes I find it infuriating, mostly I think it is great.

Having a Choice

Today I am feeling a little grumpy.  I could talk about why, what’s bothering me, how things aren’t the way they are supposed to be.  That would be easy to do because when in a bad mood, everything gets colored by that, the mind wants to keep focusing on what’s wrong.  But what’s interesting to me is what happens next with it.

I went to the grocery store and because I didn’t feel like shopping and nothing really looked that great (because of my mood), I did a crappy job.  I spent about half as much as usual, which means I got roughly half as much stuff, which means that now I can continue to be grumpy all week long when there is nothing to eat.  I really believe every moment is a chance to turn things around.  If I had been at the store focusing on what would really help this person out, what would nurture and care for her, I would have been setting the stage for a better week. 

So in yoga thinking, we have the idea of karma, which is basically the law of cause and effect.  What’s happening now is the result of things that have happened in the past and what we are doing now is leading to what will happen in the future.  This means that every choice I make is important and is planting seeds what will sooner or later grow. 

It can be hard not to get down on yourself when you are watching yourself do something that is not so great.  It could even make a person want to just stop being aware, to go unconscious, so you don’t have to see it.  But if I see it, then there is a chance I will make a different choice and that seems worth it.

I read this great quote by Victor Frankl on the website of a fellow therapist and yoga teacher:  “Between stimulus and response there is a space.  In that space is our power to choose our response.  In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

I Love the Internet

Today, I am thinking about things I love and at the top of the list is the internet.  Which is pretty timely (though I don’t use the internet really to keep up on politics and news, but I happen to know that there is something going on about this right now).  Anyway, let me tell you about my happy findings.

I love Rob Brezsny’s Free Will Astrology, which I think you can read in The Stranger, but I read on the internet.  This week, my horoscope quoted a poem that moved me so much, I’m going to put the whole thing right here:

FAMOUS 
by Naomi Shihab Nye

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.

I am also putting the link that was in my horoscope, that takes you to a whole blog of poetry.  There’s some good stuff in there.  And it reminded me that I love poetry and I love being moved. 

And then, just now, before I started typing this, I was reading another blog that someone told me about, which is very funny in a dark and vulnerable way.  And I was thinking I love humor and vulnerability and creativity.

So today, I’m just enjoying enjoyment, enjoying gratitude and love and appreciation.  I always associate gratitude with santosha (contentment).  Which reminds me of another blog on this wonderful thing called the internet, where we get to connect with all kinds of people we don’t even know and share ideas and bits about ourselves and make all kinds of cool discoveries.

I Love Space

I’ve never been much into the new year’s resolutions per se, but the new year does tend to lend itself toward reflection and thinking about what direction I’m going in.  I’ve been making big changes on the work frontier—my own practice in my own office.  My own space.  I love space.  In my mind, part of what this new situations affords me is the ability to have more space in my day.  My plan is to take five minutes to lie down (a practice I got from Cheri Huber, for those of you who haven’t heard me talk about it), to go on a walk, to meditate in the middle of the day or do a little yogasana (those are the poses).  I have actually been doing it, though there is room for growth (thank goodness, because there are eleven and a half more months this year).

Another thing that came to me spontaneously the other day was the idea of keeping my email inboxes  cleaned out.  The first crazy part of that is that I have multiple boxes, right?  Samarya, business, personal, phone.  It can be hard to keep up with it all (but not really).  At the end of the year, with my work transition, I deleted A LOT of old emails and even though the part of me that likes to have things “just in case” felt a little concerned, mostly it just felt great.  The other day, I suddenly thought how great it would be to keep all the emails down to just what needs response or has needed current info.  If there’s something I want to save for later, then do something with it, at least archive it, but don’t leave it in the inbox.  I realized pretty quick that the only way to keep up with this is to deal with things relatively immediately (if there is such a thing).

I was wondering which yoga concept fits best with this.  Aparigraha?  Certainly, there is some non-grasping.  Tapah?  Yes, there is some effort and discipline here.  But I think for me, it’s really shaucha (cleanliness, purity).  And that’s when I got that it is related to making space in my day.  More space.  Getting rid of the cluttered, crowded feeling.  And then I got the word “clarity.”  I think that might be my word for 2012.  I was just reading Brene Brown’s blog and she picks a word for the year and she was talking about how this year her word picked her.  I think that just happened to me.  I’m looking forward to it—the year of clarity.

The Basis for Telling the Truth

“You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of! That is the basis for telling the truth.”  I have thought about this quote from Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche a lot since I first read it a couple years ago.  Shame is such a really terrible feeling—that feeling of wanting or needing to hide or disappear or not exist.  It feels terrible and also makes it very difficult to do anything, especially anything that won’t end up resulting in more shame. 

Our topic of the month at Samarya is satya, the practice of truthfulness (which got me back thinking about this quote again).  How do we practice telling the truth (inside and outside)?  It seems like what Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche is pointing at is that not telling the truth is a symptom of a bigger root problem, which is shame.  The reason I don’t tell the truth to someone else or to myself is that I think the truth is not okay, so I have to hide it, hide me.  Can you imagine what it would be like to feel like there is nothing to hide?  No beating around the bush, no side-stepping, no spin?  It sounds pretty good to me.

Now, I’m not advocating that we should just walk around saying everything that comes into our minds.  But I think being able to acknowledge reality in my own self feels pretty good and when I am able to do that, I tend to have more clarity about what is useful or not useful to say out loud to other people.

It sure seems like a lot of yoga comes back around to this same idea (at least for me) that most (if not all) of our suffering comes from thinking things should be different than they are.

The big one for me lately is my relationship.  I have been married for almost three and a half years and it is really hard.  It seems like in our culture, it’s okay to talk about the tribulations of marriage if you are doing it in a stand-up comic sort of way, but otherwise, it’s supposed to be nice.  I know intellectually that everything in life has easy parts and hard parts, upsides and downsides, but I have had to do a lot of work to get okay with admitting that things aren’t great.  There has been shame that I am a yoga teacher and therapist and I haven’t done a better job.  And I see without a doubt that when I am denying the truth because it feels too embarrassing or scary to look at, it makes things worse.  I can’t actually work on understanding or changing anything because I’m too busy pretending it is fine.

So, as we’re getting 2012 started, maybe you can think of a shame that you are ready to let go of.  Go ahead, give it a try.  Lighten your load.