Author Archives: Cindy Lusk

Trimming the Tree

Last year we didn’t have a Christmas tree.  I was really busy, time got away, and I just didn’t feel the spirit.  It was OK, I told myself. 

But honestly, I missed it.  I missed having the bright lights during this darkest season.  And I knew there was a part of myself I was ignoring. The truth is, that like most holidays once you’ve reached a certain age, Christmas is bittersweet. Lots of fond memories, and some sad ones, too.

So this year, Peter put the lights on, and I starting unwrapping the ornaments.  There are no round bulbs on my tree.  Over the years I have collected an odd assortment of ornaments on various themes.  Most of them have a memory attached.


The oldest are some eggs covered in felt and glitter with a vignette inside.  These are from my teenage years, and are what I have left from my family trees.  Then there are the Hindu deities: Ganesh, Sarasvati, Krishna, and some other unidentified God, that I brought back from one of my trips to India.  I have a rather battered portrait of Jesus I got at some yoga party, which I absolutely love, and always figures prominently on the tree.

Then there are those silly personalized ones my mom got at one of those kiosks at the mall in 2004 (I know that because they say so).  The one with my name has a bear sitting in lotus, dressed in leotard, with a water bottle and boom box (?). Weird.  Peter’s has a boy holding a bass guitar. There is an odd assortment of others I inherited from my mom and ones we bought together: enamelware from a factory tour we took in China and the gold spray painted rigatoni being holding a violin we got at a craft show. There’s the tabby cat I bought the year our Franz cat died. Then there’s an assortment that various friends have given me over the years.

It’s a kitschy blend, and I love it.

These ornaments bring to life the many memories of Christmas past, of people and pets that are long gone, which evokes a sweet ache in my heart.  At first it feels just plain sad. So many I have lost, so much time already gone. This feeling could overwhelm me and spin into melancholy, but instead I hold it in my heart and follow the feeling inside to its root…. I find love.  Love, and a happiness in having the memories of these holidays past, even the challenging ones. Remembering the love I shared with those that have passed makes me committed to making time to being with my family, which is not only those I’m connected to at birth, but those with whom I walk the path. 

In these darkest days, may we connect to the light and the love, and each other.

WHY DO I WRITE?

I hate to answer “why” questions. Because.  Because the answer seems either trite, deceptively simple, or exceedingly complex. And articulating the nuance and complexity is hard. Yet I find that in the process of answering such a question, I come back to the fundamental truths I tend to forget, again and again.

I have been struggling for some time with writing. I am yearning to make it part of my life, but I struggle so much with finding the time, doing it, and following through.  Sound familiar? Perhaps there is something in your life for which you have a yearning, but have a hard time manifesting. Sometimes it is important to ask why you want to do it. Remember why it is important.

So at the top of the page I write: Why do I write? The  answer sounds trite and simple: I write for myself and I write for others.  Did I mention that I hate these kind of questions?  For ultimately the question is: why does anyone do anything? As I allow the words to flow through me on to the page, I come to a place of deeper remembrance.

Writing helps me.  It helps me clarify my thoughts. In the process of articulation and its refinement, I deepen my understanding. This is true of many topics that I write about, but it is particularly true of yoga. I have some teaching I want to share, and in the process of taking that idea from its initial pulsation in my awareness  to  concrete words and sentences, something happens that brings it home to me in a way that nothing else does.

I write for the same reason I teach yoga:  because I want to make a positive difference in other people’s lives. I write with the hope that something in the writing touches someone in a way that will move them forward, help them see more clearly, articulate a nuance or open a crack for the light to come through.

I write as well for the practice and process of it.  It reminds me that when I can connect to some deeper place in myself,  I can let the writing flow, allow myself to be a conduit for the teachings. When I do this, I am sometimes surprised at what flows through me, which allows me to remember that it is not only me creating the writing, I am a vehicle for the great wisdom teachings. As such, it might be me who helps someone else make a connection to themselves, a shift in their lives that might not otherwise happen if I don’t write.  All of this motivates me to be an as clear a  conduit as possible by continuing my yoga and writing practices.

What I write about writing can be said for many activities. Why do we do ANYthing?  Everything can be done in service, as an offering, as an expression of a larger creative energy, which is why it is important to remind ourselves why…why?  Why write?  Why practice yoga?  Why study philosophy?  WHY? Why am I here?  Why am I here, if not to create more connection, more love, more light, more beauty, more sweetness, to connect more fully to myself and to others, to the world.  And that is why I write.

PRACTICE:
Is there something in your life you are yearning  to manifest but not yet able to?  It could be in any aspect of your life: health, exercise, nutrition, practices, hobbies, vocation, etc.  Find a quiet time when you have 20-30 minutes. Have your journal at hand and ask yourself: why do I want to _________?  Sit with the question in your awareness for 5-10 minutes, then write about it. Allow yourself to write without planning it out or judging. Simply let whatever wants to flow onto the page do so.

Teachings of Hanuman: Using the Skillful Approach

In one of the many stories about Hanuman, the hungry young monkey spied what looked like a juicy red fruit and leapt into the sky to grab it. Since it was actually the sun, he had to be stopped, and in doing so Hanuman was injured. There are many teachings from this story, but one of the more subtle ones is that Hanuman learns that rash behavior has consequences and that one must exercise skillful means in pursuit of one’s desires.

Hanuman’s greatest desire is to be in service of the divine, particularly Rama, and as the story above exemplifies, in his childhood and youth he learns he must be skillful in applying  his substantial power.  He displays this ability on several occasions in the great Indian epic in which he figures prominently, the Ramayana, helping Rama recover his consort Sita, who has been abducted by the evil demon Ravana.

When Hanuman discovers where Sita has been held captive, he finds her distressed and considering suicide. He sits in a tree, observing.  He knows he must act quickly, yet he pauses to consider carefully how best to approach. “After deep deliberation, Hanuman decided on the safest and wisest course! Softly, sweetly, clearly and in cultured accents, he narrated the story of Rama.”* Sita, though initially fearful of the monkey, is delighted by his words, and they connect through further conversation.

You may know of occasions in your life when you were more or less skillful in different situations, even when your desire is pure. I had a desire to address racial tensions, and to do so I began graduate school at a Midwestern university.  I was 21 years of age, feeling a bit rebellious, and looked like the California Deadhead hippie I was. I found that both the faculty and other graduate students had trouble taking me seriously, so much so, that I ended up leaving after a year.  I transferred to a different graduate school and decided to take another approach, presenting myself more conservatively and as a serious student, and I found I was accepted much more readily and ranked at the top of my class. Eventually it didn’t matter if I wore my blazer or my tie-dyes, as I had made the connection successfully, and was able to publish several papers on group relations in prestigious scholarly journals.

This isn’t a teaching about changing yourself in order to please others. It is about finding your heart’s desire and being skillful about your pursuit of that desire.  If you follow your desire to its core, you may find that ultimately you want to be of service in some way, that you have your own unique gift for the world. And, in fact, each of us already changes into different ways of being in our lives as we approach the roles of employee, boss, teacher, student, spouse, brother or sister, child, parent, etc.  In each of these roles, to be of the most service, we must be skillful in finding a way to connect.

PRACTICE

–    As you practice yoga asana, pick some particular alignment principle to focus on, something the teacher is emphasizing or that you need to work on.  Notice what you do to skillfully apply that principle as you move through the variously shaped poses.
–    Write in your journal: “my heart’s desire is…..”.  Remember what is most important to you. Come back to that desire again and again.
–    Make a list of the different roles you have in your life.  How is your heart’s desire reflected in each? Is there nuance? Does remembering your heart’s desire help?  Can you think of more skillful ways to approach some of these relationships?
–    When Hanuman finds Sita, he pauses to watch and contemplate the right approach. Can you think of instances in your life when this could be useful? Try it out in some difficult situation.
–    Consider and journal about situations in your life when you were more or less skillful.  How could you have been more skillful when you weren’t? Allow yourself to learn from your mistakes.
–    If you have any particularly sticky relationships or situations in your life right now, contemplate and journal: a) what is your desire in this situation, and b) how might you most skillfully move in that direction.

*The quote is from Swami Venkatesananda’s version of the Ramayana of Valmiki.  Thanks to Douglas Brooks for his telling of these stories.

Sthira Sukham asanam

In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra, the definitive text of Classical Yoga, there are very few aphorisms devoted to asana, the postures of yoga.  One of these few states: sthira sukham asanam (2.46). The posture should be steady (sthira) and comfortable (sukha), or even sweet (as in sucrose).  Since Patanjali’s yoga is primarily directing us toward meditation, he is talking about a sitting posture.  Anyone who has tried to meditate knows how distracting it can be to feel unsteady or uncomfortable when sitting for meditation.  From this perspective, practicing yoga postures is intended to prepare the body for sitting meditation.

However, for practitioners of modern postural yoga, this aphorism has wisdom as well.  In an aphoristic text, such as the yoga sutras, the word order is important, and here the first word is sthira, steady.  It makes sense that this is the prerequisite, as one is not going to be comfortable in any pose in which you are not first steady. In our asana practice, steadiness in the posture is cultivated first through the foundation, whatever it is that is on the floor.  Once the foundation is steady, a clear and judicious engagement of the muscles will contribute to more steadiness.

But Patanjali suggests there is more than simply being steady in the posture: it must be comfortable, even joyful or sweet.  What creates sweetness in the pose is proper alignment. If the pose hurts, clearly one must back off and find another approach.

I often say that your yoga practice provides a context for watching your mind.  In the context of your asana practice, what brings steadiness and sweetness to your mind and your overall state of being?  Are you perpetually thinking about the past or future, approaching poses aggressively, watching others, making judgments? Drishti (gazing at a particular point) is a wonderful technique to cultivate steadiness.  When the eyes are wandering, inevitably the mind is wandering.  Ujjayi breathing will help to both steady the mind, and bring a sweetness to your practice. By listening to the breath, you will notice discomfort and adjust your posture accordingly. Moving the prana through your body with the breath will create a sweetness.  Noticing your thoughts, then returning to the breath as a focus can attenuate repetitive, perhaps destructive, thought patterns .

What unfolds on that 2 by 5 foot rectangle of a mat is likely to be representative of how you approach many aspects of your life. As suggested above, watching and working with  your mind on the mat, will show you how you can do the same in the larger context of your life. Considering a deeper meaning of this sutra, asana can be thought of as your overall stance or posture not only in your practice, but in any situation, a relationship, even your life as a whole. In these situations, too, you want to be steady and sweet.  I have known many physically accomplished yogis, whose presence is far from sweet. Below are some practice and contemplation suggestions to help you live these yogic principles.

PRACTICE:
–          For one entire yoga practice, or for a week, focus primarily on your foundation.  Notice those parts of your body that meet the earth.  With your feet, notice the 4 corners, notice whether you favor the inner or outer edges, whether your weight is toward the front or back of your feet.  For your hands, notice if you are evenly rooting through the perimeter of the palm, or whether you tend to hang back toward the wrist or outer edge of the palm.  Notice as well when neither of these are part of the foundation, and how your body meets the earth.
–          For one entire practice, or for a week, focus primarily on your breath.  Notice when your mind wanders from the breath, and gently return to it.  After practicing in this way, journal on what types of thought patterns tend to emerge during your practice.  Are these useful to you?  What was the effect of returning again and again to the breath?
–          Begin to notice your stance in the world and journal on any of the following.  What is your general outlook on life? Are you steady? Do you generally feel comfortable? Are you sweet? Are you balanced between being stable and sweet?
–          Using two pieces of paper, or pages your journal, title one “steadiness” and one “sweetness,” Under each of these, make two columns labeled “+” and “-“ (or some other label that makes sense to you).  Then in the “+” column, write down aspects of your life that enhance steadiness, and in the “-“ column, those that detract from your steadiness, and likewise those that enhance your sweetness, and detract from your sweetness.  Journal on how you can encourage more of those aspects that enhance rather than detract. Try implementing one or two.
–          Journal on other ways you see these two qualities manifesting in your life.

 

Yoga Can Change Your World

When you practice yoga regularly, and you pay attention, you will notice its effect on you.  Sometimes it is hard to see because we are so close to it. It is like my garden after I was gone for two weeks.  Prior to being gone, I didn’t notice how much it had grown, but when I returned it seemed to have exploded.  Sometimes we have to step back and/or look more closely to see the change. And with your life, the changes may be both subtle and gross.

On the gross level, you may notice that when you practice yoga postures (asana) your body simply feels better: you can breathe more deeply, some ache has abated, or you have more energy.  Or more subtly, maybe your mood is lifted.  Or subtler yet, you may change your habitual thought patterns, or perhaps you may even change the world!

Those of you who attend my classes regularly know that in addition to teaching you good physical alignment, I also invite you to use the practice as an opportunity to explore other dimensions of our being by providing a contemplation or suggestion of focus (which you are welcome to embrace or ignore as you wish).   Often these come from yoga philosophy, like Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, the root text of Classical Yoga.  In that text, Patanjali offers many suggestions of qualities to bring into our lives and our practice. For example, ahimsa, translated as non-harming or respect for life, is one we have recently worked with in class.

Over the months and years of a yoga practice, we slowly cultivate a centered place in of awareness. Into that field of awareness, we can place whatever quality we wish to cultivate. We just allow it to be there.  We don’t need to manipulate it, we simply keep some part of our awareness with it and slowly nurture it. As we move through the yoga postures, our attention inevitably goes to the details of our practice, noticing our bodies as we must. Then we pause, soften, listen, and remember that quality.  How are we feeling?  What is coming up? Is there some insight, resistance, or other information about how we might work with that quality?

In our example of ahimsa, we might first notice on a physical level that we are pushing in an aggressive way that might be injurious to our body.  On a subtle level, we might notice that we start having negative thoughts about our bodies, or our lack of focus, or someone else in the class.  Then we have the opportunity to pause, back off, drop those thoughts and come back to our breath. We allow the breath to remind us of this quality of ahimsa.  In this way, we choose which thought patterns to reinforce and start shifting the internal dynamics of our being.

Then we take it off the mat., which requires practice, just like our asana practice. In our everyday lives, we can begin to cultivate this quality  and that moment of pause to watch our habits. We begin to see the many unconscious patterns that automatically reel off in our lives.  We pause and observe, then choose.  What quality do we want to cultivate?  What quality do you want to bring into the world?

Here is where it gets really interesting. Patanjali indicates that cultivating these qualities can not only affect our own awareness to a profound degree, and  thereby shifts in our lives, but beyond that it can begin to shift the field around us. There are several aphorisms in the Yoga Sutras suggesting such effects. For example, he says that in the presence of one established in ahimsa, hostility vanishes.  Thus your practice of yoga can change your world.

Don’t take my word (or Patanjali’s) on any of this.  Observe for yourself whether or how the energetic qualities that you and others cultivate on a regular basis manifest in those lives and the surrounding environment.  You may have already experienced how particular people, places, or art have distinct vibrational fields around them. I invite you to try it out for yourself:  choose some quality to explore for a week or more and observe the results of placing it in your awareness, pausing periodically to remember, watch your thoughts, emotions, behavior around it, and see what effect it has on your life.

I think of cultivating such qualities  like planting seeds in my garden.  It requires intention, awareness, nurturing and perseverance. And the effectiveness of these seeds we place depends on the quality of the field into which they are placed. The more we practice and clarify that field, the more effective this work will be. And the effects may not be immediately obvious.  The roots have to grow first before the plant can grow.  But ultimately the fruits borne of this work have the potential to change your world.

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

After being on a ten day meditation retreat, I returned home to find many changes, both gross and subtle.  Walking out into my garden the evening I arrived, the roses and lilies (much to my delight and surprise) were still blooming, the tomato plants were almost as tall as me, and the squash were producing countless fruits.  More subtly, I noticed that as we had moved further from the summer solstice in my 12 days gone, the light was slightly different, mellower and more golden.

Stepping into my studio practice space, I found that dust had settled on the floor and as I swept it, I felt renewed gratitude for the trajectory of my life and for the great good fortune to have found the path of yoga, to have the resources to pursue studies of its most profound esoteric teachings, and to have this beautiful home space in which to live, practice, and teach.

I sat down on my cushion curious to see what would unfold inside this first meditation after my intense period of sadhana and studies. Nataraja was still dancing on my altar, but as the day was slightly shorter now I had to light a candle.  I chanted to Daksinamurti, the primordial guru teacher, in honor of my teacher, this space of teaching, my path of teaching I return to, and the teachings themselves.

I closed my eyes to begin my meditation.  I heard the familiar sounds of my home: traffic and dogs barking outside, my partner moving about quietly below, my sweet cat Pearl singing….and the usual thoughts of all that faced me “to do.”  I noticed some bodily discomfort from the many hours of sitting practice and my travels home.

And underneath that, a sweet pulsating throb drew me closer, deeper into a new place I had discovered by leaving to go on retreat. Much as I had just swept the floor of my studio, the retreat had allowed me to remove some of the dust that we all accumulate inside ourselves.  As I settled into that new place, I truly felt home. By leaving my physical home to immerse myself in deep practice, I had uncovered a new home in my heart. It has always been there, awaiting my attention, and now it feels like home, a place to return to daily wherever my physical body is.

As I write this, an immense gratitude fills me once again.  Any of us that have been touched by yoga know that we are extremely lucky to have the opportunity to penetrate beyond a superficial level in our lives.   May we seize the opportunity daily to remind ourselves of, and refresh our connection to, that home in our heart.

INTENTION

The Wheel turns and once again we find ourselves having passed the spring equinox spoke, moving us into the lightest half of the year. As the wheel turns, each of the spokes has a different rasa: taste or essence. Spring at essence is potential, a time of new growth. We plan and begin the planting of this year’s garden. In our lives, this spoke in the wheel is an opportunity to check in with our lives as we re-emerge from the darkness: what has manifested in these past months?

And, what do we want to begin creating in the next few months?  Spring equinox can be a time of renewed or revised intention, or sankalpa. As a practice, we may time take to contemplate a particular sankalpa for the next period of the wheel’s turning.

Sit with these questions:
What do I want?
What is my heart’s desire?
What do I long to create in my life?
What is the greatest thing I could offer to myself and/or to others in these coming months?

Sitting with these questions, allow any “should” or “ought” to bubble up and pop, then go deeper into your heart’s true longing. Sit with that desire and allow it to crystallize into sankalpa. When you feel ready, write about what came up in your contemplation. Finally, try to encapsulate your intention in a word, phrase, or sentence that is easy to repeat to guide you as the wheel moves forward.

Is there something you can do today to begin manifesting your intention? What seeds can you start planning? What do you need to do to prepare the soil for the seed to take hold?

As we proceed toward manifestation of our intention, we of course must work with what is. Those of us who live in Colorado know that one hailstorm can decimate even the most cared-for garden. We are not in control. This is the flipside of sankalpa: what is the universe offering you?  This question also invites deep contemplation.

Sometimes what we think we want on the surface is not aligned with the deepest layers of being and we find ourselves pushing against forces that move us in a different direction than we intended.  So we must keep remembering, re-examining, and revising our intentions so they align us with our deepest sense of self. Inevitably, intentions that reflect our heart’s truest desire WILL manifest.

Darkest Days

The winter solstice marks the shortest day of the year, the longest night, and the official beginning of winter. We are in the darkest and likely coldest days of the year. Sometimes it can feel depressing, but it can also be an opportunity for deep reflection.

Since the summer solstice, the earth has been in the long exhale: first the beginnings of the harvest, then ripening of the bounty, then the dropping and beginning of decay and nurturing what will become new growth in the spring. The winter solstice is the turning point, the beginning of the inhale, and therefore a time for inspiration.

We often think of the darkness in a negative way, in contrast to the light. But the solstices are both just flip sides of the same coin, extremes of the same pulsation.  The darkness represents the stillness, like a snow covered forest in the winter. That quiet place is sometimes viewed as empty, sometimes as full, and truly it is the paradox of both. It is potentiality. Deep in that darkness is a sparkle, the beginnings of a vibration that brings everything into manifestation.

In the darkness we cannot see clearly, and we must develop and rely on other senses like feeling and listening. So in the darkness we can sit quietly, move into the cave of our hearts and simply be, feel, listen to what arises.

During these dark days, we have the opportunity for reflection. We can review the unfolding of our lives.  What are our blessings? What have we accomplished? Where have we gone astray?

As we feel our way into the darkest cave of our hearts, we begin to sense that glimmer of light that is our guide in the darkness, our inspiration.  What wants to be created? What seeds will we want to consider planting for our future?  Where shall we direct our energy? By creating a quiet space for reflection, we begin to connect with a larger pulsation and receive its guidance for how we can more gracefully dance back into the light, as manifestation occurs during the long slow inhale that moves us toward the summer solstice.

PRACTICE:
Find a quiet place and time for contemplation. Sunrise or sunset can be especially powerful. You may want to light some candles. Have your journal at hand.

Take a comfortable seat. Ask yourself: what have I created this year? What has worked for me? Are there situations in which you could have been more graceful?

Sit and breath, holding these questions in your heart, and when you feel ready, begin to write whatever arises.

You can continue with this next part immediately, or wait for another day.

Closing your eyes, tune into the pulsation of your breath. Hold an appropriate question in your awareness: What’s next? What shall I manifest? How can I serve? What is my heart’s desire?

Allow your awareness to drop into the darkness behind your eyes, feel and listen for what is there. You may notice some glimmer, spark, or pulsation of light.  Allow your awareness to rest on this, or come back to the breath. After a while, allow the glimmer or the breath to speak to you. Let it inspire you. When you feel ready, write down whatever has emerged from the darkness.