Rumi

This poem really seemed to speak
to lots of folks this week. I found it while
preparing to talk about meditation. Enjoy.

******

the guest house

this being human is a guest house.
every morning, a new arrival.

a joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

welcome and entertain them all!
even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
he may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- rumi

best friend

Massage really is the yogi's best friend.
I went to someone new this week; Paul @ Exhale.


Strong hands and deep work. I highly recommend getting
him to untie your knots.

photo by erick wilund

gratitude

I'm filled with gratitude. I'm able to roll out my mat every day, and I get to explore my practice.

For that I'm grateful. I teach and share my practice, a lot. For that I'm grateful.

Today I received two very sweet compliments from two very sweet students. In short, they appreciate what I have to offer. My gratitude for that has no description.

Jai! Jai! Jai Sri Hanuman!

what's your religion?

One God
One Worship
One Sacred Place
One Holy Book
One Worshipper
One
-Kamau Daaood from One

Recently on a day too rainy to bike, I was getting around by cab. Usually the division between front seat and back seat is more than enough to keep the journey quiet. Not today. I don't really mind a little chit-chat with the driver cause the conversation tends to be pedestrian at best. Not today.

In the last stretch of the drive my cabbie looks at me in the rear-view and says, "What's your religion?"

"Sorry?" I was caught off guard.

He repeats, "What's your religion," pulling at his face to indicate that my furry chin must have a connection to something organized. "You know, Muslim, Hindu, Christian...?"

Maybe he thought I wasn't familiar with the term. "I don't have a religion."

"No?"
"No," but he seemed to be waiting for more. "I'm a yogi." Silence with a quizzical expression. "I'm a yogi. You know yoga?"

"No," he smiles and shakes his head.

"It comes from India." Somehow that seemed to be enough for him, and seconds later we were at my door.

It wasn't really enough though. I didn't so much mind the question. I just didn't expect it, or have time to process it. The more complete answer (on a longer trip) should have been:"I don't have a religion. I'm a yogi, and my religion is God." I don't consider myself religious but I see my practice as a divine experience. It's my time with God.

Asana is moving meditation and physical prayer; devotion in motion. Sitting cultivates my curiosity of what's on the other side of the out-breath, and allows me to contemplate my own divine light. Chanting is praise time, pure and simple. I read sacred texts for knowledge and inspiration.

It kind of sounds like religion, save the fact there is no one God in my practice. Though I chant to Ganesh, Hanuman, and Shiva every day, my practice has taught me to see the Divine in all things. God is everywhere and everyone. My practice allows me to walk my own path, inspired and informed by those who have walked similar paths before me but not bound to same routes.

I didn't have the chance to fully answer my curious cabbie. In fact, I don't think he would have wanted my answer. I think he would have liked a one word answer from a familiar list to settle the debate in his mind. Oh well.

At least his unexpected question prepared me for next chatty cabbie, and gave an answer to my own chatty mind. For now.

fear

It isn't often I feel like I have monumental breakthroughs on the mat. There have been a few: balancing in the middle of the room in Pinca Mayurasana (Forearm Stand) and Adho Mukha Vrksasana (Hand Stand), learning to love Virasana (Hero's Pose), and the first Padmasana (Lotus). I don't get on my mat expecting monumental events either. I get on my mat to practice. However, I try to make space for the unbelievable and the unexpected to come through.

What I've come to realize is that the road blocks on the path to the unbelievable are placed there by fear; fear of falling, fear of failing, fear of pain, fear that the body isn't able or ready. Some of that fear is well founded because the body is smarter than the mind, and it won't go somewhere until it feels prepared. Some of that fear is just fear.

I've known for a little while that the major fear-block in my practice has been dropping back from standing into Urdvha Dhanurasana (Full Wheel). I have no issue if I'm being assisted into transition but the idea of doing it on my own sets off a chorus dis-belief in my head: your wrists won't support the drop, your shoulders will fail, you'll break your nose and you'll have to explain how you did it, you'll make a fool out of yourself. Knowing it's just fear didn't seem to help me get past it. I know I can come up to stand from Wheel, and that takes just as much grounding. What's the big deal? I've spent time with the idea, and addressed it as fear. I've worked on arm variations to get closer to the transition. But always, my head wins.

Feeling particularly curious yesterday, I spent a bunch a time on my mat playing with a bunch of Heart Opening shapes. I came up to stand from wheel and managed not to go flying forward. I felt grounded. Why not visit the idea of moving the other way? Hands on my hips, heart open, feet planted, knees soft, breath full. I could see a piece of platform (a little lower than half way down), and my intention was to put my hands there first and walk down the rest of the way from there. But I kept my hands grounding my hips and kept my heart flying. I let my hands go and they landed on the floor. I was in a wheel. My wrists and shoulders didn't seem to mind and my nose was in tact. I laughed, and asked out loud, "How did I get here?" There was no way it would ever happen again, I was sure of that. Of course I had to check that theory. It was wrong, and I was able to breathe my way from one shape to the other a second time. Jai Sri Ganesh! Jai Sri Hanuman!



I'm not willing to say that the fear block is gone. Maybe it was doing something else at the time. Or perhaps it's plotting a move to some other area of my practice. Only time and showing up will tell.

long time, no post

After an extended holiday break abroad (no computer), and an out of town gig (no time and no computer)... I'm BAAAACK.

I'm getting ready to spend Sunday, March 5th upside down for my Inversion Immersion at Laughing Lotus. It's always a blast to hang out upside down. I learn something new every time prepare for this workshop. Stay tuned for more!

fun on the street

Everyone who knows me knows I'm all about using my bike as my primary mode of transport (MTA Strike or not). Cycling in very meditative, and constantly teaches me about Ahimsa (non-violence/non-aggression) and keeping my cool in the midst of the unconscious wondering of the man on the street. It's a great practice. I saw a GREAT sticker this morning. Totally made my day.

show me the light

Inspiration. I don't always know from where it might come. Usually it just shows up and moves through me when I hit my mat. That's the best cause in those moments I know I'm moving like me. It can show up though an experience I've had in a teacher or a friend's class. Sometimes it's music that gets the light shining. Then there are the days (or longer) when the light of inspiration is a little dim...

I needed a little nudge toward inspiration last week so I spent some time fingering through Dharma Mittra's 608 Asanas. Though his sequencing doesn't necessarily work for my body, I find his physical creativity really inspiring, and the photos of his poses - seeing his body in the shapes - can often spark something in my body to move in a particular way. The other place I turned was to Shandor Remete, the founder of Shadow Yoga. Never taken a class or anything - they don't really exist here - but I've read about it and enjoyed seeing his physical interpretations of the body practice.

Seeing these men, these luminaries, got me moving outside of my head. It's impossible to show up on my mat and take the same old routes when I've added new, perhaps unfamiliar shapes, into the mix. It was great. It's like giving myself an assignment: Find a way to get into this shape without ever having it explained, AND then see what naturally follows it.

Ah, Curiosity, I do love Thee.

life prep

Sweet practice yesterday. I had a cancellation, which freed up some extra time in the morning. So I was able to get on my mat, and move how my body wanted, all without concern for the time. The result was fantastic.

The couple days leading up to yesterday had been very active, both on and off the mat - a lot of running around, teaching, music school, workshop - and my practice was bouncy and energetic to match that. Having that extra hour yesterday changed all that. I was on my mat for almost an hour before I even stood up. My body wanted to be 'in' the poses, and I allowed that to happen. There were far too many breaths to know the number but just enough to feel like I could really observe the movement of the inhale and exhale. I really hung out, especially in Virasana, Mandukasana (Frog Seat or Japanese Warrior Seat), Ardha Adho Mukha Svanasana (Half Dog). I was able to notice change. I could literally feel my butt getting heavier into my arches in Mandukasana every time I exhaled. Amazing. I even found a way to rig myself into Navasana with a belt so I could really stay in it without too much shaking or struggle, and I had a wonderfully deep Savasana. Lord knows that doesn't always happen. The whole experience was incredibly illuminating. I felt light and curious, and I wasn't thinking, 'how am I going to teach this?' or 'can I teach this?' It was my practice, for me. That isn't always possible even if the intention is there.

Paul and I were just talking about that the other day; sometimes when we get to really practice on our own, for ourselves, it can start to feel like we aren't setting ourselves up to teach. That might be true but Dana has always reminded me of how important it is to set ourselves up for the day and for our life, and to let our teaching grow from that place. I embrace that.

I don't want to sound attached but... I much prefer to have a practice like yesterday rather than one where I 'thinking' about anything or actively 'preparing' something. Sure, that can be wonderful too but it's different. A practice like that can be exciting because something will happen on the mat that I'll be juiced to share with students, and that's definitely the joy and the gift in teaching. But when I get to practice solely for myself, without any outer concerns I feel truly prepared to LIVE. Wow, now that's a gift.

day-after knees

I've been practicing Lotus Pose (Padmasana) consistently since about April. I had always assumed my knees would never allow me to but one day, much to my surprise, they did. So I made Lotus my Sadhana for the summer months. Since then the knees almost always accept the pose, and it's gotten easier along the way. I knew it would work out that way having spent a similar summer with Virasana. But unlike Lotus, Virasana doesn't seem to be as attached summer temperatures.

To be clear, I'm not one of those 'presto-change-o-I'm-magically-in-Lotus' kind of guys. There are several breaths involved. I flirt with the pose, and sometimes he flirts back. When it's not there, I leave it alone. Simple.

Usually there aren't any adverse day-after affects. But today, Oy!, my knees are screaming obscenities at me. I guess I'll put Lotus away with the shorts and sandals until the weather is warm again. I suppose that would be the upside to relocating to someplace with a warmer climate. Johannes would like that.

Shhhh

How can I breathe into stillness when there isn't any?

Last night my LLCY mentor group had a good chat about Tadasana (Mountain Pose), and teaching from that place of content, breath-filled stillness. It's odd sometimes to think that very often the two most 'difficult' poses in the practice are Tadasana and Savasana (Corpse), the two poses where we are asked to find an alert stillness and simply breathe without 'doing' anything.

This morning on the mat the noisy reality presented itself with... enthusiasm. There are things I don't consciously hear like the ever present electrical whir or the subtle klink in the heating pipes - things that if they were removed would create a deafening, silent void. Then there are the real offenders: the construction banging, sirens, and the loud Portuguese conversation that seems to be circling my front window. Can I stay with my breath and on my mat, even with all of that?

The truth: practicing without all that outer stuff might actually be harder. As a city dweller I don't often have the luxury of practicing without that stuff. I'm not really sure what it's like since it only happens on vacation or at a retreat. That setting almost seems less that real. As a result my breath serves as a tool to navigate the constant murmur of the city. All those sounds become part of the experience.

I can't breathe away the noise, at least not on the outside. I can gratefully breathe in the stuff on the outside and create some stillness on the inside. Maybe in the end I can breathe out some stillness.

hurt?

"But now it doesn't hurt." That's what a student said to me recently after I gave her a block to sit on in her Virasana (Hero's Pose). I sit with Virasana at some point every day, and I always sit on something because otherwise it would hurt.

From where has this idea come, this misconception that the re-union of the breath, mind and body is somehow supposed to be some sort of ancient physical torture? I'm not saying we shouldn't test our boundaries and edges and familiar comfort zones. If nothing else, we should practice that every day. We should make friends with our discomfort (different than pain) to avoid the endless clinging to or craving of our likes and dislikes. But who said anything about beating yourself up to the point of pain?

Every day I roll out my mat, and I challenge myself both in the way I move but also in the way choose not to move. If I am mindful, patient, and present I can move deeper into shapes, and maybe end up somewhere new. If I'm ambitious or goal-driven, and go to the places where I'm in pain - well pain usually leads to injury or, worse, thinking rather than breathing.

Isn't there enough daily pain and suffering? Why not embrace yoga as a way to lessen the pain and suffering, and increase the boundless joy? Can my practice teach me to laugh more and grunt less?

Tall order?

Something tells me I'll be teaching a lot of Virasana for the next chunk of time.

"sthira sukham asanam" our connection to the earth (i.e. the seat or the 'yoga pose') should be steady and joyful. - Sutra II.46

Mahadeva

So the idea was since it was a Halloween kirtan that everyone should dress as their favorite deity. Every now and then I like to follow the program so I did myself up as Lord Shiva, Hara, Mahadeva, and was well received. My friend Patty here, always looks like the divine Anandamayi Ma. Too bad more people didn't bite at the bait.



Bhagavan? He's always in divine costume.


Jai!

Sadhu's Paradise

I suppose I could chalk it up to being inspired by Baba last weekend... I bought a Dhotar/Ektar from Keshav Das. I wanted an option or an alternative to always chanting with my harmonium. Who would have ever thought that coordinating one finger with two strings while chanting could be so challenging? But I'm LOVING it. My friend Steve Kris, the Urban Sadhu, will be very pleased.

Me and my dhotar are getting to know each other. We'll keep slow dancing around my livingroom, and maybe we'll show off our stuff at kirtan in December.

Jai Bhagavan!

Goddess buzzzzzzzz...

What is it about Bhagavan Das!? SO amazing. Just in from his kirtan at Laughing Lotus, and I'm still buzzing with the Divine. He has a purity that allows for the spirit to truly shine through. There's nothing to weed out or through. He never fails to uncover my inner fire.

I have a lot of love and respect for other kirtan wallahs but Baba does it better than ANYONE!

Jai Ma!

God bless Canada!

I spent a few days in Toronto last week. Had a great time with the Davids and the yogis @ Catfish Yoga Shala. Spending time with all of the them showed me that there's joyful yoga in Toronto too. We spent a lot of time laughing, falling over, defying gravity, and sharing.

Right from the beginning of the weekend Mario and I were encouraged explore our creativity. Felt like home. Quite refreshing from my last visit to TO when the creative spirit was overshadowed by a codefied practice that doesn't speak to me.

I was taking a chance going up for a weekend with the Davids. I didn't know them, and didn't know what their teaching would be like. I'm glad I took the chance. I would do it again and again.