Community

This weekend I attended my first drum circle. I went with no expectation. We were loaned a djembe drum, an African instrument that is played by hand. Mark guided us in some basic techniques, and then we began.

At first, I was just trying to find my coordination. Eventually, I let go of trying to copy or keep up, and it just flowed. My sound was mixing with sounds of all the drums in the room. I watched the room with more softness. It was more than sound to the ear; it was vibration throughout the body. At one point, I stopped drumming and hovered my hands over the skin, physically feeling it vibrate from all the other drums in the room. I was in joyous awe.

Then my friend got up and danced in the middle of the circle. The energy in the room rose even higher and I felt my heart break open. I wanted to join her, but I felt this was her moment. This circle was a benefit for her daughter. I wanted to honor this space, so I drummed with even more enthusiasm.

During our water break, she told me I should join her. I shrugged that I was too shy. She assured me that once you’re up there you just let go of everything. Next round of drumming, I see her saunter her way over to me. She gives me a nod, and I follow. Just like the drumming, I tried moving with some sort of rhythm and style, and then I was just moving. I was so lost in the moment that she tapped my arm to check in on me. I found myself in giddy bliss.

As we were cleaning up, my husband and I were talking with some of the other participants, sharing our experiences. It was such a beautiful space, no one wanted to break it.

Its times like this that reminds me how vital and life affirming a community can be. I haven’t felt a part of a community for most of my adulthood. The church I grew up in no longer resonated with me, my family and friends had scattered, and the only group I had were my co-workers. Thankfully, I was blessed with many years sharing office spaces with people who were caring and supportive. Now I am so grateful to be a part of very encouraging communities of yoga, spiritual development, biking and books.

I was talking with my dad about the drum circle and how good it felt to be with these friends. He said that’s why his groups are so important to him; volunteering at a senior center, barbershop singing, and other religious and cultural groups. As his age gradually limits him, his connections to these groups grow even more precious. It heartens me when he reports how his friends help him out by giving him rides to the meetings and other events.

The drum circle was a continuation of the Purple Om fundraiser for Amber in February. Donations classes at Be Well are the 3rd Friday of the month at 6pm and are continuing to benefit Amber in April and May. 

No judgement needed

I've discussed the first yama of ahimsa, non-violence, many times. Compassion and non-judgement is the foundation of my practice. It is what remind my students during yoga class. It is what I remind myself when I fall out of a balancing pose.

These reminders are great when offering loving-kindness to ourselves when feeling challenged or uncomfortable, but what about when we find ourselves in situations that just doesn't feel healthy.

I ask myself, and my students, not to see things as good or bad, right or wrong. Instead, I ask how does this feel? Does it feel supportive or helpful, or is it causing pain and possible damage?

In my yoga therapy training with Nancy Candea, we practiced a series of poses while standing on one leg. Believing that I was obligated to keep up with the class, I pushed myself, holding my balance the best I could. Standing on my left leg, a shooting pain traveled from the inside of the fallen arch in my foot through the back of my knee. I kept going. Afterward, Nancy caught me massaging the area and asked me what happened. When I told her, she asked me, "is this pose useful for you?"

I know the eka pada standing poses strengthen the supporting leg, including the muscles that have grown weak from the arches in my foot not lifting. What is not useful for me is standing unsupported for a prolonged period. Being able to stand on one leg will not make me a better yoga teacher or a better person. Because it's easy for the person next to me doesn't mean it needs to be easy for me.

I decided that I can mindfully explore these poses, notice how I feel in the moment, and honor the messages that my body is giving me. I can use a chair or a wall to alleviate the body weight transitioning to the standing leg. I can shorten the time I hold my body in this position. In time, I may progress in my practice, but more importantly I may find more ease in my posture and functioning through normal activities. If it doesn't, then I may explore other options.

I am so grateful for the question, "is this useful for you?" It has freed me into making a choice of what is best for me. This is a choice I can make in every moment. Instead of making a judgement based on old ideas and beliefs that are no longer appropriate, I can use the intelligence of my mind and body to discern what is happening. From this discernment, I can better decide my next action, without the emotional charge of judgement.

This takes much practice. Believe me, I'm still practicing. I will always need to practice. Most of the time, I catch myself reacting from my longstanding patterns instead of responding intelligently. I am catching myself a bit quicker, so that may be a sign of progress.

Even letting go of that judgement is a practice!

Ishvara Pranidhana

Stopped at a red light, I watched a flock of birds moving effortlessly in unison just yards in front of me. They rose together and swirled around a tree before diving gracefully toward the earth. I called to my grandson sitting in the back, “did you that? Wasn’t that amazing?”

“What? All the birds just followed the leader.” He was not impressed.

This exchange stuck with me for days. I was inspired to research it further.

The phenomenon of swarming or flocking is not unique to birds, but fish, insects and even animals. There are scientific and mathematical studies to determine the factors that create swarming behavior. The reasons vary among the species from migration for food to colonization. Swarming uses the simple model of moving in the same direction while remaining close and avoiding collision. 

I often think of this when watching bicyclists riding together. My husband is an avid cyclist, and I’m fascinated by his instinctual maneuvering on different terrains and traffic patterns. I need to practice and work on my skills just to go on an easy ride. More than my physical limitations, my mental blocks can paralyze me into a dead stop. How many times have I been told “just GO!”

Ishvara Pranidhana is the 5^th niyama, the observances included in Patanjali’s yoga sutras. Most commonly it is translated as “surrender.” Surrender to what? Across centuries of cultures and religions, there were many wars and lives destroyed over the differences in their answer. I’m not about to start another war.

I can only share my own experience.  I released the framework I was taught and began my own journey. In many ways, I have come back to a fuller understanding of those teachings. I am also free of holding onto a belief with stubborn defiance.

I found this freedom through my yoga practice. I explore my balance between will and surrender; holding strong and letting go. I slow down my movements, I slow down my breath, and then my thoughts naturally begin to slow. In time, I slow into stillness. It is in this space that I am free to fully surrender. I let GO.

When I am off my yoga mat, I continue the practice of surrender. In this sense, discernment is essential. I don’t advocate surrendering to whatever becomes present in life. Through yoga and meditation, I develop a stronger sense of self. I begin picking up subtle cues I used to miss. My distractions and ego-fueled fears burn away, and I gain clarity. I am closer to the true essence of life, of myself.

Now when I see birds swarm in their beautiful dance, I am even more enthralled.

The Holiday Season

This time of year can be challenging. There were times I could not raise my “happy” level to match the festivities. Relationship issues, financial struggles and pressures from work have distracted me from the joyous feelings I’m “supposed to have.” Christmas carols and festive lights felt more intrusive than welcoming.

In general, this season radiates a warm glow for me.  I love watching the children overflowing with excitement. I feel peaceful hearing holy music. I am blessed with many happy memories of Christmas, visiting relatives and honoring traditions from our families. 

And yet… this season has also brought disappointment and heartbreak. Family members missing from the table, the first Christmas without someone we have lost, and witnessing the erosion of innocence. The pain we carry seems to amplify when we’re being encouraged to deny its existence.

There are very real issues that we manage from day to day, and the holidays ask that we put these aside to celebrate, to refocus on the bigger picture. We are all connected through Love. Whatever religion or holiday you align with, this is the basic idea. Unfortunately, this tends to get lost when we try to keep up with the expectations.

One thing I have learned through my experiences of difficult holidays is to let go of the meaningless traditions and simplify. I have let go of a lot. I don’t decorate anymore, because it was more work than enjoyment. I don’t try to find the perfect gift, because I never really understood what that meant. I don’t cook elaborate meals, because I don’t eat elaborate meals. I don’t send cards, though I do enjoy receiving this new trend of photo cards. Maybe one year I’ll send pictures of my husband on his bike with me in a yoga pose.  

This is how I am choosing to celebrate the spirit of the season. When I simplify my participation in the holidays, I have more freedom to be fully present. I can see if someone feels lonely or frustrated, and I can respond with love. I can see if the holiday traditions are so meaningful to someone because it connects them to their past, and I can respond with love. I look into the beautiful eyes of my loved ones, and my heart responds with Love.

To you and yours, however you celebrate this season, I wish you all the blessings of Love.

My Nightmare

Last night I had a dream that I was attacked by a vicious large black dog. The teeth and the growling was terrifying and real. Like the movie "Cujo," I was trapped in a car watching it's head crashing against the window. A woman outside the car was beating it down away from me. At one point it was down on the ground, and I thought it was over. It leapt up even angrier, charging at my window, which was now rolled down. I pressed back as far as I could, it's face and teeth were inside the car and coming at me quickly. I knew there was no escape. I woke up.

I looked up dream interpretations on the internet, which there are many sites and conflicting information. What I took was that a black dog means a disloyal friend or the shadow side of a friend. The barking was gossip and the biting was fear. Trying to figure out who that could be, and finding no conclusion, I let it drop. It may have been a memory from some other time, something I watched, or just me imagining a fear come to life.

After my typical morning ritual, I went downtown to teach a class. Walking back to my car, thinking about what needs to be done for the rest of the day, I saw a black dog. It's leash was tied to the door of a bagel shop. It was small, probably under 10 pounds. It didn't bark, it just held eye contact with me. As I continued walking, I felt my awareness shift.

I haven't "decided" what all this means. I do feel comforted, that I'm not completely on my own. For now, that may be enough.

Adventure

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt

After two years of training and initial teaching of yoga, it was time for a break. My husband did a bicycle tour with his dad earlier this year and wanted to share with me some of his favorite sites along the Oregon coast. As I begin my intensive training into yoga instruction and yoga therapy this week, it was the right time to break away from routine and familiarity into the unknown. This was my adventure.

I have been challenging myself to face what scares me, until I run out of things that scare me. Though I haven’t run out of fear-triggers yet, the line of resistance has relaxed quite a bit. My fear of flying did not result in a panic attack, and I was able to breathe through lift off. On our first full day, we walked through the busy city of Portland. I crossed over the pedestrian bridge with cautious ease. I felt confident for our hike the next day.

We set out to hike Multnomah Falls Trail, wearing our hiking boots and feeling excited. At the base of the waterfall, we looked up to the pedestrian bridge, and I felt intimidated to climb that high.  We giggled when we saw the path was paved and some people were coming down wearing flip-flops. When we reached the bridge, I felt empowered. 

The trail continued around the mountain, unpaved. As we gazed out to the Columbia River below, I noticed the steep drops had no barriers built. I also saw the trail got very thin and uneven. By the time we reached the second switchback, I was done. Pete encouraged me to continue, to conquer my fears, but I felt the panic rising. I waited at the landing of this switchback as he continued his climb. I sat in my fear, meditated and prayed. I watched a variety of ages and body types climb up and down without the obstacle of fear. By the time Pete came back, I had some greetings with the passers-by and even did a few yoga poses. 

Our adventures continued with a very loose itinerary, not always sure where we would sleep that night (we had our camping gear). I continued challenging my fear levels throughout our many adventures along the Pacific Coast. When we stopped at vista points to take in the views, the mountain at our back and the ocean below, fear dissipated. I was fully absorbed in the wild landscape.

On our last flight home, I took the window seat. Pete slept as I watched our ascent (yes, he can sleep through take-off). I watched the ground fall away, heard the engines escalate in power and felt the shuddering of the aircraft. I also observed my thoughts, my physical responses, and my breath. As I slowed my breath, my thoughts slowed and my body calmed. This too, I observed.

We arrived at the airport an hour before our luggage. In this moment I saw very clearly that I could choose to allow this to affect my memories of the adventure, or to accept it as part of the experience. As we waited in baggage claim, we observed the people around us, the shift of the crowd as flights arrived and people departed. We remembered the highlights of our travels; the majestic redwood trees, the ocean sprays on rocky beaches. We were too tired to be hungry or need anything. It was an interesting place to be.

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” ― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Ahimsa (Part II)

As this first yama (personal restraint) keeps returning into my perspective, I would like to offer some clarifications and expansions of my viewpoint. I encourage my yoga students to listen to their own inner voice, and I extend this to you. Take what resonates, leave the rest.

1.       Ahimsa to yourself first. When I am unkind to myself, it is difficult to be authentically kind to others. It may be tainted with resentment or, to the opposite extreme, superiority. When I care for myself with compassion, I begin to recognize my inner light. Then I can more easily recognize the light in others so that compassion follows naturally. Compassion for myself first also protects me. Some people are in such pain or disconnect, their actions and behaviors are harmful to themselves and those around them. Some people are simply moving in a different direction than me. Distance and boundaries may be created with compassion and non-judgment.

2.       Ahimsa is an attitude, a behavior. It doesn’t matter if I like a person or what they do. It doesn’t matter if we are “on the same page” with our values and beliefs. I don’t even need to feel happy in their presence. I only need act in kindness, to trust that their inner light is as brilliant as mine, whether I see it or not.

3.      Ahimsa is the foundation. In my previous post, I mentioned it is the first of the five yamas (compassion, truth, non-stealing, energy management and non-attachment). The yamas are the first limb in Patanjali’s Eightfold Limbs of Yoga, before postures and meditation. If we have any of these practices without ahimsa (compassion, non-harming) it will not be worthwhile.

1 Corinthians 13 New International Version (NIV)

1 If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

4.       Ahimsa is love in action. We don’t need to like everyone or feel good about everything all the time. My practice is to be present in each moment, not judging what is present, just observe with a compassionate and open heart. When action is appropriate, than I have better discernment to bring forward what is most loving and beneficial.