Author Archives: Cindy Lusk

Cultivating the Garden of Your Life

Every year spring blows my mind, how it just happens. How everything seems brown and dead, then you begin to see the tendrils of green in the midst of the brown, and before you know it whole plants and flowers have come back to life. Somehow the elements of water and light have combined with the dormant seeds and plants to create just the right conditions for the new sprouts.

On a beautiful spring day I went out to survey my garden, considering which vegetables I’d plant this year. As I dreamed of my first greens and tomatoes, I realized there was already a lot growing, mostly weeds. A lot of weeds. These were the plants I had let go at the end of the last season, too harried trying to harvest the last of the tomatoes and basil as the first frost came. So I have a lot of work to do between eliminating those weeds, preparing the soil, and planting the seeds for my future garden. I tend to favor the cultivating and planting, and not the weeding. Yet those weeds will not be ignored, they just keep perpetuating themselves the more I ignore them.

I am so struck by how my thoughts about the workings of my garden coincide with the teachings of yoga, and how yoga works. Our lives are each a garden which we can consciously cultivate. A healthy garden requires constant tending: cultivating the soil, planning seeds, nurturing the plans, and…pulling those damn weeds. Each of our actions is a seed that we sow. Some of them grow into sturdy healthy plants that nourish us. Some of our actions are more like the weeds, they just get in the way and take nourishment and light away from the healthy plants. In the garden of our lives, we must choose: which do we cultivate? Which do we eliminate?

When I first moved into my house, the garden was full of huge weeds, and the first summer it was all I could do to remove the weeds from the hard-packed Colorado clay soil, and amend the soil for the next spring’s planting. This coincided with a time in my life after the crash of a romantic relationship, when I was preparing for a whole new life. I wasn’t really ready to plant new seeds, new ways of being, as I first had to clear out a lot of old stuff, and prepare the ground of my being for what was to come next.

Oftentimes we plant seeds that just don’t sprout. Perhaps the seeds are too old, like our old ways of being that no longer serve us. Sometimes the seeds sprout, but the results are sickly, not robust. This could be due to not properly tending the seedlings, or perhaps there is some condition in the soil that is not quite right. Perhaps the time is not right, it is too early or too late in the season.

So as I plan this year’s garden, I find myself looking at my life as a whole. And I remember, spring doesn’t just happen in my garden. Those seeds have been dormant, waiting for conducive conditions to sprout. The weeds are what I have allowed to persist in my garden, I haven’t gotten down to their roots, so they keep coming back. Primary to the whole process is the condition of the soil in which we plant the seeds, and how we nurture them once sown. If the conditions aren’t right, the seeds will not thrive.

The beautiful thing about the garden of our lives is that it is a garden, not a forest. We can consciously cultivate it. Granted there are forces that are beyond our control, as any gardener knows. Yet we can choose which seeds to sow, which weeds to pull….and we can prepare the soil for the best potential outcome.

I have been cultivating the soil in the garden of my life through my practices, so that any seeds I plant have the healthiest conditions possible in which to grow. I have been practicing, meditating, studying, contemplating, and journaling. I have been enriching the soil of my being with these practices. Looking at my life from a clearer place I can see the weeds, the habits I keep perpetuating that act to choke out any new seedlings, and little by little I am removing them. And I am considering which seeds to plant, what new ways of being and new projects I want to cultivate.

Consider the garden of your life through contemplation and journaling:

WEEDING
– What are the most persistent weeds in your life?
– What habitual patterns are getting in the way of cultivating a more healthy and productive way of being?
– How can you eliminate them? Do you need support? What are some practical actions you can take?
– Remember: weeds are really hard to get rid of, persistence is key.

PREPARING THE SOIL
– What do you do to take care of yourself?
– What creates health for you physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually?
– Amend the soil of your life by practicing what creates greater health and clarity.

PLANTING NEW SEEDS
– What would you like to cultivate most in your life right now?
– How can you do that? Do you need support? What are some practical actions you can take?

NURTURE THE SEEDS
– Remember that the success of any new planting depends on continuing to remove the weeds, and keep the soil and conditions around the plant healthy. How can you do this?

The power of words

“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me”. Oh really? I beg to differ. I understand this phrase may be good to remember in the short term when you are being verbally attacked. But we all know that the pain from words spoken, or not, can outlive physical injury.

I have been pondering the power of speech for quite a while, ever since a Vedic astrologer cautioned me that though I speak the truth, I sometimes “hurt people with my words.” Those words he spoke to me held power as they struck a chord deep within me, and I knew I had to become more skillful in my speech. This has been a long-term practice for me ever since.

My first approach was to practice silence: just keep my mouth shut. Zip the lip potato chip. I learned a lot from this practice. Often the best way to use speech is to just keep quiet, for a number of reasons. Speech is energy, and sometimes we waste a lot of it in useless conversation, like talking about trivial things or trying to convince someone who disagrees with you who is simply not going to change their mind. Why waste your energy?

The most important thing the silence taught me was to pause. A lot happened in that pause. I was able to feel, think, and summon my higher self. It allowed me to look at the intent of my words. Am I trying to convey information to actually enhance the conversation or resolve an issue? Or was I trying to bring attention to myself, show how much I know, or who I know, prove I am right, put someone in their place, or inflict pain?

The pause allowed me to be more skillful when I did choose to speak. I saw how without the pause, my initial reaction was often based on old habitual reactions. And then the other person might react likewise. For example, speaking out of anger can escalate a situation rather than diffuse it. I learned to step back to reflect on what I want to create in that moment and consider how to speak in a more skillful way to accomplish that.

In that pause, in that moment of intention before the speech, many of the practices of yoga I was engaged in began to guide me, including:

ahimsa/non-harming

virya/courage

karuna/compassion

svadhyaya/self-study

upeksha/equanimity.

When I pause to tune into these aspects, the words then flow through me in a more skillful and effective way. Ultimately, my intention is to create more beauty and love in the world. This is especially true in potentially conflictful situation. In these instances I try to tune into a higher place in myself, remind myself of the qualities I want to manifest, and allow that to guide my words.

Our speech is so powerful, those words of the astrologer set off decades of practice for me, with very potent results. What effect do you want to have with your words? I invite you to consider how you work with your speech by considering the following.

When is it necessary to speak? Are there times when remaining silent is a good idea? When is it especially important for you to speak?

What is your intention when you speak?

Are there any particular qualities you would like to manifest through your speech?

How can you summon your highest self to guide you in your speech?

HOW YOGA WORKS, Part 1

In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali defines yoga as yogas-chitta-vritti-nirodhah, yoga is the calming of the whirling of the mind. As we are able to calm our minds, we can see more clearly who we truly are, as Patanjali says in his next aphorism, otherwise we remain identified with our thoughts and feelings.

These are profound teachings and summarize how we end up in lives full of suffering and angst, as well as point us to a trajectory that helps us return to our essence. We get so caught up in our everyday world that we often forget what is most important in life. It is like when we go to the movies, and we are captivated by the story, and forget ourselves. Likewise in our lives, we get caught up in our daily dramas, without recourse to a sense of centeredness. We get pulled and pushed around by the crisis du jour or the next item on our “to do” list without ever pausing to consider why we are here and what is most essentially important.

Our yoga practice involves a process by which we begin to cut through the surface layers of identification to discover or simply remember our essence. Though ultimately meditation is the primary way to do this, our yoga asana practice can help us move in that direction.

One of the most helpful techniques for calming the mind in our asana practice is working with our breath. The technique of ujjayi breathing is cultivated by closing the back of your throat and creating an aspirant sound at the back of your throat. This starts to balance the breath and gives a focus for your ears as you listen to the sound of the breath. We begin to draw our awareness away from the outer world, as well as from the inner turnings of our mind.

The breath is such a beautiful part of ourselves to honor with our attention. It is perhaps the most easily accessible and obvious manifestation of the divine pulsation present in each of us. It reflects the vibration of being that pulses through everything, all of the cycles of nature: day and night, the tides, the seasons, life and death, our heart’s beat, the inhale and exhale. Keeping our awareness on this fundamental pulsation begins to draw us in to the still point from which it emanates.

Consider how in a yoga class we try to maintain a focus on our breath while still attending to the class itself. We have the teacher’s instructions to listen to, all of the different parts of the body to be aware of and coordinate, not to mention the activities of all the students around us as well as other parts of the environment, along with all the thoughts and reactions that all of that is creating in our mind. These are all the whirlings of the mind, the chitta vrittis.

Trying to both stay centered in our breath, while maintaining an open awareness to all of that other stuff is not unlike what we have to do in our lives as householders. On the mat we try to stay connected to the breath while we listen to the teacher and attend to our bodies, and to some extent while we maintain an awareness of our environment, but often so many extraneous and unnecessary thoughts enter our awareness, and the next thing we know we’re going over our grocery list.

So, we simply keep coming back to the breath. We come back to our ujjayi breathing without judgment, without making it a big deal, back to the breath, again and again. Inhale, exhale. Start again. Breathe, listen to the breath, feel our bodies, stay present, notice the person next to us, should I get a haircut like that….ooops! There I go again. That’s OK, start again: come back to the breath, inhale, exhale, feel my body, stay present….

And so it is when we step off the mat. We take whatever calm, peaceful awareness we cultivated in our practice as we step out the door and into the rest of our lives. Then when someone cuts us off in traffic, we get pulled into our reactions, and our mind whirls, we begin to lose that presence, that awareness. Yet there it is, as close as our breath. We can pause, collect ourselves, take a deep breath, reconnect to that peaceful awareness, and remember to respond from that place of greater connection.

Renounce or Live in the World?

There is a tension in the yoga world that creates a great deal of confusion, which I have struggled with during my 30 years of practice. As I’ve moved through different yoga schools and negotiated the challenges of teaching in our modern environment, I have been perplexed trying to honor lineage and tradition while making the teaching applicable to the reality of the modern world.

My confusion reflects a basic dichotomy that runs through the history of yoga that can be encapsulated with the contrast of the renunciate and householder paths of yoga. Renunciates are those who renounce of withdraw from the world (with their practices, but also physically, e.g, into ashrams), claiming that the material world can only bring bondage and suffering. Householders, on the other hand, are those who live in the world with careers, family, and homes.

My own path of yoga has wound through both these paths, and I’ve landed squarely on the middle ground, causing me to face the paradox of yoga each and every day.

I began my practice in a very rigorous Hatha yoga school that emphasized breath, bandha, a steady gaze, and a prescribed sequence of postures. It required immense discipline, focus and dedication, practicing asana (yoga postures) at least 2 hours a day, 6 days a week. I threw myself into the practice for many years, travelling to India to study directly with its founder. I developed a strong body and a disciplined demeanor. I also suffered a variety of physical injuries as my teachers and I worked to contort my body into the prescribed postures. It felt harsh and controlling.

Meanwhile I began to have larger questions about the path and started investigating the philosophy underlying the practice. I studied the Yoga Sutras which seemed to be THE text of yoga, or at least the one with several available English translations. This text clearly delineates a renunciate path, turning awareness inward and away from the world. I began to see how such a philosophy can lead to a strict and controlling approach toward the body and mind, which was what I was experiencing in my asana practice.

I was perplexed and found myself asking again and again: if the goal of yoga is to subjugate the body and withdraw the mind from the world, then why are we born into these bodies in this world with such active minds? The philosophical answers never sat right with me. I was clearly not interested in being a renunciate, even while I had an intense desire for a greater spiritual awareness.

So when I encountered a Hatha yoga school that honored the body, mind, and all of manifestation as part of a Divine pulsation, it drew me in. It resonated with what I sensed intuitively. It was such a relief to hear that life is a gift to be enjoyed and savored. It felt right to begin practice with a softening and opening. Play, beauty and delight were emphasized. I learned the underlying philosophy was Tantric, which acknowledges the householder path.

Though it was music to my ears, resonating deeply with my heart, I often felt uncomfortable in that school with its emphasis on play and delight and dancing on the surface of life. It felt ungrounded and undisciplined.

The first school taught me to turn in and connect with a deeper part of myself. The second school taught me to honor and delight in the gift of my embodied life. I felt lucky to have experienced both of them and that each had a piece of the truth, and I struggled to reconcile them.

Finally I realized what was missing from both these Hatha yoga schools was the practice of meditation. In both, there was a sense that one should be meditating, but the method was not clear. So when I saw the opportunity to begin studying a Tantric based meditation method, I dove right in.

Along with the meditation practice, I learned a new theory of the practice for householders which allowed me to integrate my previous experiences. I came full circle back to the teachings of the Yoga Sutra with its emphasis on disciplined practice. Meditation draws our awareness away from the outer world to connect with something deeper inside, and it requires the discipline I learned in my early years to make my way to my cushion daily.

The subsequent philosophical developments of Tantra teach that there is more, as I’d always intuited. The meditative state is not the end, but just the beginning. Through meditation we connect to the ground of being, which supports us as we then move into our everyday activities. This is how I currently live the paradox of yoga.

The connection cultivated in meditation is like a current that runs from deep within and energizes my activities. This optimizes my life as a householder, in part because my actions reflect this connection, which makes them more skillful. Further, the deep introversive practice allows me to more clearly see and experience the beauty in the world from a place that is grounded in Source. In these and other ways, I’m finding the practice of Tantric meditation allows me to integrate practices that create grounding and clarity with living my life as a householder fully.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR FREEDOM

As part of my transition from 2013 to 2014, I participated in an on-line women’s retreat, in which I wrote to my future self with “Instructions For Freedom.” Here’s what emerged.

– Highest first.
This is a teaching I’ve heard from my teachers. For me it means to remember to check in with my highest self. It means to choose the option that corresponds to my loftiest goals. It means to put my practices high on my everyday “to do” list.

– Love is all there is. Remember this.
I know this, but I forget. I get caught up in the day-to-day challenges, stress, hormonal fluctuations, weather, what have you. Then I might do something I regret, and when once more I get connected to my heart, I am so sad for words or actions that came from anger or frustration, rather than a place of love.

– Practice.
This pertains primarily to my twice a day meditation practice: just do it. I never regret having done it, but I do regret skipping it.

– Receive grace, in whatever form it comes.
By this I mean both positive or negative. Each presents its challenges, and I want to meet each with equanimity. I feel that sometimes I keep myself closed to receiving what the divine is offering by thinking it should take a particular form.

– Worrying is a waste of time. Stop it.
Sometimes I spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about the future. It robs me from being in the present moment. I lose sleep. I make bad decisions when I am in this place. I suspect that if I am able to do the instructions above, this one will happen automatically.

– Get out of the way and allow the divine to flow through you in all you do.
I’ve gotten a taste of this as I’ve moved closer to my heart with my practices. The more I can allow myself to be a conduit for the divine, rather than trying to do it with my individual self, the better the outcome.

– Serve.
I truly want my work to be of service to others. I continue to struggle to manifest this. So I put this out there as a sort of a prayer and reminder.

– Stop comparing.
Akin to worrying, I find constantly comparing myself to others to be a waste of time.

– Others can be a reflection for you, but ultimately you must let go of what other people think.
I acknowledge that it is important for us to give and receive feedback to/from our family, friends, and colleagues. Yet I must receive feedback about my actions from others in a discerning way, ultimately referencing back to many of the above points: Did my action come from the highest? Is it reflective of love and service?

– Believe in yourself.
A bit of a double entendre here. Many of the above instructions will lead to a greater connection to the essential Self. Believe in yourself when you move from that place.

I invite you to consider what instructions for freedom you would write to your future self. Please feel free to share them here.

How Much Is Enough?

Aparigraha is the last of the yamas (moral edicts) put forth by Patanjali. It comes from the Sanskrit verbal root, graha, which means to grasp, so it literally means “non-grasping,” non-covetousness, or greedlessness. As the last listed, it could be thought of as least important, and as a subset of asteya, not stealing. But as with the previous four yamas, the subtle aspects of this quality are manifold, and in some ways aparigraha encapsulates the path of householder yogis.

One of my teachers tells the following story: Once upon a time, there was a monk who lived a simple life in a cave, carrying out his practices. Nearby villagers brought him food, and they noticed he had only one dhoti (a traditional men’s garment worn around the waist) so they decided to gift him with a second. So then he had one dhoti to wear, and the other was stored. He discovered that mice started nibbling on the stored dhoti, so he acquired a cat to deal with the mice. The cat had to be fed, so he got a cow to provide milk for the cat. Then he needed a field for the cow to graze in, to provide milk for the cat, that dealt with the mice and kept the dhoti from being eaten. You can see where this story goes: eventually the man ended up with a house, wife and kids, no longer a monk able to do his practice.

Of course we as householders are not monks, so we require possessions to conduct our lives, and we may also enjoy creating and having beautiful belongings. For us the point of the story is not that we should have NO things, but instead: how much is enough? This story also reminds us that as we keep acquiring things, at some point in our lives we may stop and survey it all and inquire: at what price? How much time and money have I spent acquiring these things? Is it worth it?

This fall’s flooding in Boulder forced me to look at a whole lot of stuff, both literally and figuratively. My crawlspace flooded, and I excavated boxes and boxes of stuff, which had been hidden in my dark basement and now sat exposed. A lot of it was stuff I brought home after my mom’s death, which I hadn’t had the heart to deal with. I am still sorting through this mess now, and my reluctance to let go of these things points to something deeper inside myself that is grasping to hold on to old memories, times, and places, people, relationships long gone. Allowing the memories to reside in my heart, and letting go of my attachment to the stuff, is part of the practice of aparigraha for me. Yes, I will keep some of these mementos, but the question is, still: how much is enough?

The practice of aparigraha has come to the forefront for me lately as it intersects with my yoga asana (posture) practice. As I age, I find it more challenging to perform asana at the level I once did. I could do it, but it would require a lot of time and energy to maintain. So I find the question arising: how much is enough? I have let go of doing many of the advanced poses and along with it, the self-perception of myself as an advanced practitioner. It has been both challenging and rewarding to discover how much is enough in this domain.
Ultimately, a lot of our acquisitiveness is a reflection of a deeper lack, an emptiness that needs filled up-with stuff, experiences, sex, alcohol, drugs, and the other myriad ways we attempt to fill that void. We keep seeking fulfillment outside ourselves, when ultimately fulfillment is deep within ourselves. Aparigraha may be best practiced through carefully considering how much we really need and connecting to the source of our greatest fulfillment.

CONTEMPLATE and PRACTICE and JOURNAL

For at least one week, keep track of how much time you spend acquiring and maintaining your possessions.

What material goods are essential for you?

What makes you hold on to stuff that has no function? Is it necessary?

What non-material stuff do you grasp on to?

What are any emotional states or ideas about yourself that you continue to hold on to that need to be released?

Should we accept gifts we don’t need?

How might the concept of aparigraha impact your notion of holiday gift-giving?

If you practice yoga asana or do some other exercise or sport, notice whether you find yourself grasping to go harder or further. How much is enough?

What is most genuinely fulfilling to you?

If you would like to learn more about Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, check out my self-paced course here

Brahmacarya

In the renunciate path outlined in Patanjali’s Yoga sutra, the fourth yama, brahamacarya, is chastity. There is no way around it: this is clearly what Patanjali meant.

So how do we apply this to those of us that are householder practitioners? By householder I mean we participate in society. We have jobs, homes, families, etc. We don’t view sex as bad in and of itself, in fact may see it as one of the inherent joys of being human. So in our case a good definition of brahmacarya is: right sexual conduct.

Then, of course, the question becomes: what is right sexual conduct? There is no black and white answer to this. What is right is defined by the parties involved (assuming both are healthy functional adults). And it harkens back to the other yamas particularly ahimsa (non-harming) and satya (truthfulness). Any sexual conduct that is harmful or untruthful is not right, and therefore violates brahamacarya.

THIS IS ESPECIALLY TRUE IF YOU ARE IN A POSITION OF POWER, e.g., teacher, boss, therapist, etc.

The issue for ascetic yogis is that of conserving sexual energy that is then transformed into life force energy. This can also be applied to householders who should consider the difference between healthy sexual activity, and the obsessive need to for pleasure, which can lead to a depletion of energy or even sexual addiction. Thinking more broadly, we should explore whether all of our relationships improve our vitality, or deplete us.

Interestingly, the word brahamacarya is composed of two Sanskrit words. The first is Brahman, which a word for Absolute. And the second is the verbal root “car,” which means “to move.” So literally brahamacarya means “moving with the absolute.” This definition goes straight to the heart of yoga. Ultimately, yoga is intended to help us connect with Source. That connection, that Awareness, can then guide us in our practice as we move into the world. This is an alternative and additional interpretation of brahmacarya.

Contemplate and Practice and Journal
Consider the two different meanings: sexual restraint and moving with Brahman/the absolute.
What do they each mean to you, practically speaking?
Where/how do they intersect?
Which of your relationships increase your vitality and which deplete you?

Are you a thief?

“Thou shalt not steal:” we all know we should not take that which belongs to another. So as I approached the week of teaching this third of the yamas, asteya or non-stealing, I felt a bit of a yawn inside myself. I knew I was going to have to dig deep to bring it alive, and what helped was considering not only the ways I have participated in or avoided stealing myself, but ways I have felt stolen from.

Below I raise many questions. The answers are not always obvious, and what came up for me is a bit of a rant, so bear with me as I explain how I came to realize that in some ways we are all thieves.

There is the obvious, of course: blatantly stealing someone’s physical possession, be it from an individual, company, store, etc. I was once held up at knife point. This is a clear violation of this not stealing, and also of non-harming.

Then there’s the blurry distinctions: taking office supplies from the office, not reporting items left in your cart at the grocery store or drinks left off a bar tab, not trying to return something you found that clearly belongs to someone else.

As I dug deeper to contemplate the ways we steal from each other, several of my pet peeves surfaced, and identifying them as ways we steal made me understand why I found them so annoying. These are challenging as well, because often it is not clear or agreed what the “possession” is that is being stolen.

Ideas are commonly stolen property. I often witness others make statements verbally or written that have been directly taken from someone else’s work, without given the appropriate credit. This, of course, is known as plagiarism. When I was at university, on several occasions I had to educate tearful undergraduates about this thievery. It is an obvious theft when someone directly uses someone else’s words. Most of the time, however, the boundaries are not as clear. Sometimes someone takes an idea you’ve expressed, or copies something you’re doing. Is this stealing?

For many years I spoke often about my teachers, because when I taught, I used language and ideas I learned from them. I wanted to credit and honor them and make it clear I did not invent what I was teaching. Yet I wondered if students thought 1) I was trying to brag about my teachers or “sell” my teachers to them, or 2) I didn’t feel confident in my own grasp of the teachings. And, I came to understand that my teachers were using what they learned from their teachers, and so on. So I stopped speaking about my own teachers as much. Does this make me a thief?

One of my biggest pet peeves is stealing time, from ourselves and from others. We waste so much time, I can feel it when I watch one more episode of Madmen when I had planned to clean off my desk, or when I cruise Facebook instead of working on this essay. I have some friends who are chronically late, and I feel they are stealing time from me. I’ve also had friends who consider appointments we’ve made to be optional and when the day arrives, decide they don’t feel up to it, or have other more important things to do. I may have rearranged my schedule or turned down other opportunities in order to be with them, so I feel I’ve been robbed.

What about paying for and showing up to a class, workshop, retreat etc to find that the teacher and/or organizer has not bothered to prepare? Is this stealing your time and money? Or how about thoroughly preparing to teach something, or prepare for a meeting and have the attendees not show up or come unprepared? Have they stolen your time? Have they stolen their own time and money?

Have you ever had the experience of someone using you to access someone else? Stealing a friend, contact, student, or lover? I include this here because I have been accused of doing this, and have felt others have done it to me. Are these “possessions”? Is this really stealing?

Many of these above instances come under the category of “broken promises.” Someone has agreed to or promised something, but has not followed through. For me, in these situations, I feel my trust and faith have been stolen. When I was held up at knifepoint, there was money stolen, but worse was that my inherent trust in human nature was stolen from me. And when people repeatedly take their commitments to me lightly, or repeatedly show up late, I find I can’t trust their words, which is a great loss to me.

Last, but by no means least, what about natural resources? I thought a lot about this during our Thanksgiving holiday. How much do we take what is not ours for the taking, or take more than our share? How do we share the earth’s resources such that all its creatures get their fair share?

Consideration of the more subtle levels and aspects of asteya made me consider more deeply how we all can be considered thieves to some degree. I’ve raised more questions than I’ve answered, as how and where we draw the line between taking what we need and stealing is not always clear, but hopefully we can be more conscious with how we prevent stealing from ourselves and others.

CONTEMPLATE and PRACTICE and JOURNAL

Give your definition of asteya, non-stealing.

Commit to practicing it for a week, or some other period of time, in light of the obvious meaning, but also the more subtle interpretations mentioned in this essay.

Consider the following questions raised in this essay. For each consider it not only intellectually but how it feels in your heart and your body. Contemplate how your feelings have changed as you’ve gone further down your spiritual path?

– Do you ever take things in the “blurry” situations: office supplies, items overlooked in a grocery cart of restaurant bill.?

– Do you credit others when you use their ideas? Why or why not?

– Have you experienced other using your ideas without crediting you?

– In what ways do you steal time from yourself?

– In what ways do you steal time from others?

– What are other ways you steal from yourself?

– What are other ways you feel you’ve been stolen from?

– Consider relationships. Have you stolen a relationship? Has one been stolen from you? Does this question even make sense?

– In what ways has your trust or faith been stolen from you? Did someone else steal it or did you steal it from yourself?

– In what ways do you contribute to stealing from the natural environment? How can you change that?

STAND IN TRUTH

What is truthfulness? What is YOUR truth? How do we bend the truth to our advantage? What lies do you tell yourself? These questions spring from a conscious consideration of satya, truthfulness, the second in the ethical practices outlined in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra. On the surface, we all know: Thou shalt not lie. As prerequisites to living your yoga, maintaining these edicts simplifies your life, and helps keep your mind and heart clear, allowing the other practices to unfold more easily. If you lie, not only will you likely find that lie bouncing around your brain as you try to practice, but you have to remember who you told what, and life can quickly become very complicated, like some sort of bad situation comedy.

BENDING THE TRUTH
Yet how many times do we bend the truth? I know a teacher that loved to use good stories in his teaching. Often I knew he was exaggerating, adding, or deleting details, or otherwise “bending” the truth to make his point. I grew to distrust his words because of this, and he therefore became less effective. Politicians are notorious for bending of the truth, sometimes then spending a lot of energy explaining themselves. In both cases, we as consumers of information must then decide whether to perpetuate the untruth, ignore it, or call out the perpetrator.
I’ve also had teachers responsible for giving me feedback on my work who didn’t give me anything but positive praise, and in doing so failed to tell the whole truth, which in the end didn’t allow me to grow. The examples of how we bend the truth are many, and I’ve included several such examples for you to contemplate below.

BALANCING TRUTH WITH NON-HARMING
On the other hand, satya must be balanced with the first listed (and therefore most important) yama, ahimsa or non-harming, so perhaps those teachers who only give positive feedback simply didn’t want to create harm. I know for myself, I have at times been too quick to speak the truth, or have done so unskillfully, and indeed people have been hurt. And there are certainly times when lying is the best course of action (e.g., those helping Jews during the Holocaust). So although the aspiration to tell the truth is obvious, there are many situations in which we must consider more carefully our responsibility to uphold both non-harming and truthfulness.

STANDING IN YOUR TRUTH
Examining subtler layers of truth makes the practice of satya even more compelling. Consider nuances of the word that relate to being “authentic” and “genuine.” You may have seen the sanskrit word “Sat” in different chants and it means “Truth” with a capital “T.” In this context, translations of Sat include Truth, Reality, Being. So one way to think about practicing satya is to become aware of your Truth. Before reading any further, you may want to take a moment right now and consider: What is YOUR Truth? What is the truth about who you REALLY are? Stop to sit with this question, then write what comes to mind.
On one level, my answer to this question relates to the values I hold dear: e.g, integrity, love, and respect for nature, among others. Penetrating deeper, I see myself as a manifestation of the Divine, and thus as a being of love and light. So then the practice of satya becomes one of aligning my thoughts and actions with this definition of my Truth.
Sometimes our practice or other life circumstances challenge this Truth, e.g., when we find ourselves thinking: I can’t/I’ll never be able to ______ (do this posture, teach others, understand….). Or I am ________ (stupid, fat, old…). Each of us has habitual ways of thinking about ourselves that are more or less true. Often we perpetuate telling these lies to ourselves, and they could fulfill themselves to become true if we allow them to.
There are many other ways we may fail to stand in our truth. I recently overheard a conversation in which one guy said something to another about a nearby woman that was blatantly sexist. I saw the second guy flinch, but he did not say anything. How often to we tacitly participate in or perpetuate such lies instead of standing in our own truth and speaking out?
Ultimately our ability to be truthful on all these levels is in direct correspondence to how well we have established a strong connection to our innermost “True” Self. Once this connection is clearly established, we are compelled from inside out to stand in our truth, and our ability to navigate the nuances of truthfulness comes naturally.

CONTEMPLATE and PRACTICE and JOURNAL
What is truthfulness?
What is your truth? What is the truth about who you are?
Watch what you say: are you always truthful? If not, why? How does it feel?
Do you ever say things because you think it is what another wants to hear? Is that appropriate?
Watch what you think: are your thoughts always truthful? If not, why? How does it feel?
What lies do you consistently tell yourself?
Watch your actions: do you always act in a way that is true to yourself? If not, why? How does it feel?
What is required for you to be truthful about who you are?
In what ways are you not totally truthful? What is the effect of this?
What other ways do we bend the truth?
How does truthfulness fit in with non-harming?

Respect for Life

I love yoga philosophy! I love it because it has so many rich applications for how to live our lives. In my local classes, we are currently exploring the yamas (moral restraints), the first limb of the aṣṭanga (8-limbs) yoga laid out by Patanjali in his Yoga Sutras. In coming weeks we will explore each of the five yamas, then maybe move on to the second limb, the niyamas (observances). It seems like a sweet exploration as we head into the holiday season.

So this week we’ve been considering the first of the yamas, ahiṃsā. Literally, ahiṃsā means non-harming. As the first yama listed in the first limb of aṣṭanga yoga, it is of foremost importance. This was one of Mahatma Gandhi’s primary practices, leading to a non-violent independence movement in India, and was later adopted by Martin Luther King as an approach to civil rights activism in the United States.

It is a huge topic, worthy of extensive reflection and practice. For now, let’s consider a few approaches to its practice, and I’ll leave you with some considerations to contemplate and further your practice.

First of all, what does non-harming mean to you? Is it the same as pacifism? Is it possible to be completely non-harming? Where do you draw the line? For example, what if someone attacked an innocent child? Is it OK to kill another being to sustain your own life? These are challenging questions to consider, because sometimes it does seem to be necessary to do one being harm in order to not bring harm to another being. That’s one reason I prefer “respect for life” as a definition for ahiṃsā. It adds a nuance that I feel is important to my decision making.

It is important to remember that all of these qualities we seek to cultivate on the path of yoga come more naturally when they arise from our connection to a greater or higher or more essential part of our self, rather than some moral edict. We have all heard the command, “thou shalt not kill.” Yet killing other beings is rampant. One reason I think this is so is because we are disconnected from our hearts, our essence, from who we really are. When we have cultivated a strong connection to our hearts through our practices, we begin to understand that essence that flows through others as well, and we are less likely to hurt others as it would be like hurting ourselves.

As we start to delve into this practice of ahiṃsā, we will uncover layers of our actions, how our actions (or inaction) affect different layers of our being, and of other beings. Speech is one such consideration. Words have energy behind them, and what and how you say something to another can be more or less respectful or harmful. Have you ever been talking about someone when they walked into the room? Given the content of your words, how did it feel? If it was disrespectful, likely it felt icky. And it wasn’t icky just to get caught gossiping, but when confronted with the actual humanness of the person, you realize more clearly your essential connection, and you feel less compelled to talk negatively about them.

What about our thoughts, including those toward ourselves? Often we have habitual thought patterns about ourselves that are harmful. For example, I sometimes think I am not expert or skilled enough to present these philosophical teachings to others. That thought squelches some part of myself that sincerely wants to help others with these teachings. So if I allow those thoughts to dominate, it creates harm not only to myself, but to those who might benefit.

Likewise, we can create a lot of harm in relationships by the way we think about them. There have been instances in my life with particular individuals who rub me the wrong way. I find myself obsessively thinking about how to win an argument with them or get back at them in some way, which can escalate conflict. When I started shift the way I think about them, and even purposefully creating a more loving thought pattern, the whole conflict dissolved.

Obviously there is much to reflect on, so much that it can be quite overwhelming. The most important point is to consider for yourself how you think about ahiṃsā, and to start practicing it in a mindful way. It is facilitated by creating that connection with your innermost self, then allowing that connection to guide you in refining your thoughts, words, and deeds. Like any practice, you begin where you are, and then start shifting your life to align with the value of ahiṃsā.

I leave you with a long list of considerations, as this is quite a deep practice. Pick any of them that stir your interest, and please leave a comment here, or on my Cindy Lusk Live Your Yoga Facebook page post of this article, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

CONTEMPLATE and PRACTICE and JOURNAL

Contemplate ahiṃsā, and write down a definition for yourself, and keep that definition in mind as you complete any of the following.

Commit to a mindful practice of ahiṃsā for some period of time, like a week or a month. Consider whether each of your thoughts, what you say, and how you act is in line with your definition. Journal about your experience each day.

What helps or hinders the practice of ahiṃsā?

What is the effect of practicing or not practicing the ahiṃsā?

What do you do when know someone is behaving out of line with the ahiṃsā?

How does gossip relate?

Why is ahiṃsā listed as the first yama?

Is anyone exempt from the practice of ahiṃsā?

How is your practice of ahiṃsā reflected in actions that affect the planet?

How does your practice of ahiṃsā relate to actions done on your behalf? For example, killing an animal for you to eat or drone strikes by our government.