Trying to Make Sense of Another Mass Shooting

This morning I put on NPR an hour before I had to teach. The newscaster described two mass shootings in the last 24 hours, and then said something like “this is morning in America.”

Again, I try to make sense of it. Trying to make sense of what is truly senseless. And yet again I come back to disconnection. A lack of connection. A person who has become so disconnected from his own heart that he could perpetuate such violence on others. It isn’t an anomaly; it has been the human situation forever. (And I must point out: what IS an anomaly is the easy access to weapons of war).

I find I can make some sense of it from how the teachings of yoga explain the process of disconnection. As humans we all emerge from the great ocean of consciousness. We are created as finite beings from the infinite. As we become finite we forget the infinity from which we came. We take on bodies of a particular form, with particular proclivities. We separate from the ocean and become individual life waves.

And what we see from that perspective is separateness and differentiation.

And that can become our focus. Instead of seeking connection, we focus on our differences.

Difference is a natural consequence of our manifestation. It is tricky, because at the surface, differences do make a difference – in ways that are both delightful, and problematic. Delightful are those differences where we appreciate other perspectives, ways of being, cultures. Problematic are differences when we elevate some beings and oppress others. And of course, there are some “different” behaviors that we must work to protect ourselves against when they are truly harmful, like perpetrating violence against other beings unnecessarily.

But I came to the conclusion long ago that ultimately the means to address these problems is to penetrate into people’s hearts, so that they experience the connection. We must recognize we are all from the same source, that we are connected to all beings, not just our family, our race, or our nation.

This is exactly why I quit my trajectory of becoming a social psychologist studying prejudice, and became a teacher of yoga and meditation. I sensed the need to work on these deeper levels. But we MUST work on ALL levels simultaneously. We must be active socially and politically. And ultimately that will come easier to the extent we can each connect to the underlying heart, and help create a society in which that is a societal norm. This is my hope and prayer today.

THE OCEAN AND THE WAVE

Something that was quite confusing to me as I became more serious on the path of yoga was a pervasive message indicating that the spiritual path required renouncing all worldly desire. The images I had of being a yogi was of swamis in robes who lived apart from society so as not to be sullied by impurity.

As well, the practice and lineage I first landed in required harsh discipline of body and mind, and commitment to the method, further confirming the notion that to be a yogi required great effort and negation of any individuality. Together, all of this did not sit well, in my body and in my heart, and I kept searching until I found a path in the Tantric tradition that honored the journey of embodiment and living as a householder.

I learned there were different paths in the tradition. There was a renunciate path for those whose destiny was to withdraw from the world (and note that many of the early proponents of yoga in the west were in fact renunciates). But in addition, there is a path for those committed to living fully embodied in the world.

A wonderful teaching about these paths is that of the ocean and the wave, which is used in the tradition in different ways. For example, in the Classical Yoga of Patanjali, the definition of yoga is the calming of the fluctuations of the mind. From this perspective, our individual awareness can be thought of as an ocean or lake, and the waves are the vrittis, the fluctuations, all the thoughts and emotions that inhabit our awareness. Here the goal of yoga is to calm the waves of our thoughts and emotions so the lake is smooth and clear.

In my Tantric lineage, the ocean is often considered to symbolize Consciousness, the underlying ground of being, also called Shiva, or Shiva-Shakti. In this view, we as individuals are each a wave that emerges from that ocean of Consciousness. As our individual wave arises from that ocean, we look around and see the other waves of manifestation, and we tend to think that is all there is. This represents a forgetting, a lack of recognition of the source from which our individual life arises.

Here the path of yoga, especially meditation, is the means to remembering and recognizing that we are nothing but the ocean of consciousness, manifested as our particular individual life wave. Everything manifest is an expression of the absolute Consciousness, including each of us. But we have forgotten this.

Traditions that are renunciatory have as the goal to subside back into the ocean. The goal is to merge back into the ocean of consciousness. There is an associated withdrawal from society to help alleviate anything that creates waves in our individual consciousness.

From the Tantric perspective, instead, we want to resource the energy of the ocean to support the activities of our individual wave. We are successful to the degree we are able to clarify our awareness such that the ocean of consciousness is revealed to us. The means to this understanding is our practice of yoga, particularly meditation. In this way we recognize that we are nothing but the Consciousness ocean.

This connection then allows us to harness the energy of the ocean. We utilize that connection as householders to live to the fullest in a way that is aligned with our highest desires. Our work and our relationships are positively impacted. We become channels, if you will, for all the attributes of yoga we hear about: nonharming, truth, compassion, and so on. As well, it allows us to bring forth our own unique gifts. In this way we can be of greatest service, whether it is through something we bring into the world, or simply shifting the energy in our everyday realm through our demeanor and actions.

Reposing in the Heart

A beautiful Sanskrit phrase I learned from my teacher is “hridaya vishranti.” Some of you may remember that hridaya means heart. Vishranti means repose or rest. So hridaya vishranti is reposing in the heart, or perhaps taking refuge in the heart.

Heart here doesn’t mean our physical heart, or a romantic heart, or even the heart chakra. It is more like the center, like the heart of a tree. It is the essence, the core essence of everything. A poetic rendering of its meaning could be to repose into the arms of the Divine.

We each have an essence, core, innermost self. It is that part of us that is pure light and love, and unchanging. That part of our self that sits in the middle, silent and clear, as the rest of our chaotic world unfolds.

Vishranti, repose is such a beautiful concept. Could we relax into, allow ourselves to repose in our Self, our heart? Sometimes life feels exhausting, trying so hard to do all we want to do requires so much effort. Wouldn’t it be nice for it to feel more like a flow and less like a struggle?

For me, this is part of hridaya vishranti: to accept nourishment and support from a deeper source, to make it less about our individual will and more about channeling the Divine will.

What a wonderful idea! Drawing on our heart of hearts, not having to effort so much through our ego, or constantly try to manipulate our exterior world, but instead to feel authentically that we can rest assured that the heart will support and guide us. We can relax knowing this.

To authentically feel this, we need to make contact with that essence, and this is precisely what yoga, especially meditation, does. At the end of our yoga asana class, we physically repose in shavasana, and if you take a moment at the end you may palpably taste an increased centeredness and clarity. As we rest and repose in shavasana, our whole being integrates and assimilates the effects of our practice. We soak in the benefits of the practice which then colors our following activities, at least for a time.

And even so much more when we meditate. When we meditate, we align not only our body, but all of our being, our individuality becomes saturated with the qualities of fullness, love, and centeredness that is the essence of who we are. We have this place of refuge within us. As we meditate more and more, we become more steadfast in these qualities, reposing into the arms of the Divine.

SEED

Seeds are powerful things, as many traditions have noted: from a tiny seed the greatest of trees can grow.

In the yoga tradition, every one of our actions lays down a samskara, which can be thought of as a seed which is waiting for the right conditions to sprout. Just like physical seeds can be dormant until the conditions are ripe for sprouting, the seeds of each of our actions reside in our subtle body, awaiting fruition. They emerge as conditioned responses or habit patterns.

As you sow, so shall you reap.

So in every moment we have an opportunity to sow what we want to reap. A beautiful thing about our capacity as human beings is that we are free. The tradition calls it svatantrya – we have the freedom to choose which seeds we want to encourage, and of course which we want to discourage.

The external conditions of our life create the initial impulse for a seed to sprout. For example, the holidays bring up many old samskaras, both positive and negative. And this is super important to remember: samskaras can be positive, negative, or neutral.

So as conscious, mindful beings, we can exercise our freedom of choice to work with these samskaras, choosing to nurture those which are life enhancing and choosing not to enact those which degrade our lives and are not in alignment.

Our practices, especially meditation strengthen our ability to exercise our freedom. This works in a variety of interacting ways. Our daily practice lays down the seeds of connection to our deepest self, which allows an easier and more automatic access to that place at all times. Then this can allow us a moment of pause that is so important in reshaping our lives. There is a moment we have between an impulse arising, a seed beginning to sprout, and our conscious choice to allow it to unfurl into fruition, or instead choose to not lay down another one of those particular seeds.

In this way we slowly, slowly, transform our lives such that we are creating the potential for seeds that produce more positive impulses in our life to dominate.

Samdhana

I had the wonderful opportunity to study one of the foundational texts of Tantra, the Shiva Sutras, with my teacher Paul Muller-Ortega. He pointed to the theme of “samdhane” from the first chapter of the text, that I have found so useful. The word “samdhane” has the verbal root “dha” in it, which means “to place or put.” “Sam” means “with” or “together,” so samdhana means putting together, drawing something together, joining, uniting.

From what I learned from Paul, and contemplating the text, this concept of samdhana encapsulates so much of what our practice is about. My understanding of this concept of alignment is that it manifests in stages, and in all the different levels of our life.

When we take a step toward aligning with the highest through our practices, that intention accelerates an already set-in-motion movement toward alignment. It makes sense that a primary purpose and result of our meditation practice is to connect with the highest, the source of everything, and that from which everything manifests. But taking it back on step: there must have been some prior impulse within you, some seed that seeks the light, that encouraged or urged you to seek that connection in the first place.

And having heeded that impulse, that call to connect with your innermost self, the practice of meditation sets into motion the establishment of that connection. Through the practice of meditation, your awareness traverse the depths of consciousness to its source. This absolute source place is the root matrix from which everything comes into being in the relative world, which we see on the physical surface of our life.

Connecting with that source place of creating and manifesting energies sets in motion another aspect of samdhane. Our life at the surface begins to reflect and resonate with the source. On a practical level, we begin to experience that flow of creativity and manifestation rearranging our lives on its many levels. We find our desires, our thoughts and our actions, aligning with the highest such that aspects of our life that are more occluding, less supportive of the highest, begin to drop away, to be replaced by what is more affirming and supportive of the highest.

While this is an automatic result of our practice, it is a process, it is not instantaneous. It may take some time for the connection and alignment to come fully into fruition, as there are obstacles that must first be removed, all our old pain and patterns must be addressed in some way.

I see this process unfolding within myself in ways that are both delightful and painful. In my everyday life, I see more loving and compassionate responses arise naturally. I don’t have to force a kinder response, it is as if I am unable to do otherwise.

Yet because this process is still unfolding and evolving in me, at other times I see myself enacting old reactive patterns. But what happens now that I’ve been meditating a while, is that most times (sadly, not always…yet!) I immediately detect my misaligned pattern before I actually enact it. The pain of misalignment has become greater than any satisfaction from enacting old patterns that no longer serve.

So these teachings on samdhane indicate that initially our meditation practice allows us to align with the highest place from which all activity unfolds. So that unfolding of activity naturally begins to line up with the highest possible in any given moment. In this way, our entire life begins to be rearranged so that it is reflective and supportive of the highest.

 

LISTENING and RECEIVING

During my recent meditation retreat I received darshan* from the animals three times.

The first was a hummingbird that roused me from my meditation with its flutter buzz of wings I could feel on my face. I opened my eyes and it was so close I couldn’t focus on it. (I think it was attracted by my rose quartz earrings). I felt kissed and blessed by the merging of our auras.

The second was again when I was meditating by a fountain pool area. I heard a distinct rhythmic lapping sound and I opened my eyes to see a beautiful fox getting a drink just 4 feet from me. I was hidden in the shadows so I was able to enjoy its beauty for a few moments. I felt blessed by that beauty.

The third time I was out on a walk and sat down on a log to meditate. I looked up and in the clear desert sky I saw a hawk soaring, circling and circling. It came closer until it was right over me. I felt blessed by the grace and freedom of its movement.

I received many other blessings as well on this retreat, but these visitations from the natural world remind me of the blessings of beauty, connection, freedom, and grace.

When I recounted this experience on Facebook, I got a comment that perhaps I was exuding some special energy. Perhaps, but mostly I was simply quiet and listening. These beings are always there, it is simply a matter of sitting quietly, allowing them to come closer, and receiving their presence.

This is a lot of what meditation is: just getting quiet and being present for what shows up. “Listening” with our awareness, our senses turned in to receive the blessings of our innermost Self, the heart in the core of our being. Many things will appear, sometimes challenging, sometimes sweet, sometimes informative. All are blessings in their own way.

To receive these blessings, we must take the time to sit and be quiet, listening, then “look” at what is offered to us from the depths of our being. Life in its many forms is precious. May we slow down enough to receive its many blessings.

*darshan: the beholding of a deity (especially in image form), revered person, or sacred object. The experience is considered to be reciprocal and results in the human viewer’s receiving a blessing. (Britanica.com)

EXPLORATION in LETTING GO #1

For a while now, I’ve been thinking of an idea that is popular in spirituality and health circles, but is as well grounded in yoga philosophy. It appears in various guises, names, and nuances: letting go, releasing, vairagya/dispassion, allowing. We’ve heard “just let it go,” which is so easy to say, and so hard to do. And that, exactly, is the problem. Letting go is un-doing, which seems impossible.

I’ve been thinking about it because it feels very important to me in my practice right now. With many years of practicing yoga, I seem to have embodied well the idea of practice and discipline. I know the efficacy of doing, of getting on my yoga mat, my meditation cushion, sitting down with a book or recording of my teachers to do studies, contemplating and writing. This I can do. But what about undoing?

To some extent, what has been done cannot be undone. I ate that chocolate cake, I took a nap instead of going for a walk, the injury happened, be it physical and/or emotional. This relates to karma, and the idea that every action has a consequence. My strategy has generally been to try to make better choices, and this is critical on the path of yoga. For example, redirecting my desire for cake to a healthier choice. My practice has definitely aided in making better choices overall.

Yet I can’t help but sense there’s more to it. Through my practice, I have noticed many attachments fall by the wayside when they no longer fit into my life. The letting go happened naturally like when a kid no longer cares for particular toys. Often it seems this happens because something else becomes more attractive. Again this is the result of replacing one attachment with another hopefully more adaptive one.

Still there are some persistent deep rooted patterns that continue to lurk, even after decades of practice. And as I’ve introspected, my conclusion is that in general they are all a fundamental disconnectedness with _____ . You fill in the blank: source, God, Self, heart, etc. It is a contraction that makes me feel smaller, and Tantric yoga philosophy calls it the “anava mala,” the fundamental separation of the individual being from divine source. It is a necessary contraction for the individual soul to become embodied, to take on the limitations of a body-mind.

How does one meet these deep-seated contractive patterns? I sense this is a place for actively letting go. But it feels extremely paradoxical. How does one undo? How does one actually release some deep seated pattern that has been reinforced for years, perhaps lifetimes? Can it be done, more precisely “undone,” or is it more of a process of replacing bad patterns with good patterns?

As a good yogi who started practicing on the level of the body, that’s where I am beginning my experimentation with letting go. I’ve begun to watch how much I hold in my body. I watched it first in shavasana, the relaxation and integration pose we do at the end of yoga class. There I can feel my body actively release. I put my attention to a contracted area and ask it to let go. For me this begins with my shoulders, as I am one of those people that carries the weight of the world there. So as I am in shavasana, I allow the muscles of my shoulders to release. Then I notice where else feels contracted, usually my jaw or my face, and again, send the message to relax.

I’ve also noticed it on the massage table, in the dentist’s chair, when I’m on a walk. I notice it as I sit here typing. I take a deep breath and release unnecessarily contracted muscles.

So I’m making some progress on the physical level. And I suspect this is teaching me something about letting go the deeper layers of psychological and emotional patterns that keep popping up. How do I let those go?

I have a lot of ideas, but I really don’t know. And for me, saying “I don’t know” is a form of letting go. That’s a start.

Stay tuned, I hope to have more to add as I continue my explorations. For now, you are invited to practice noticing and releasing bodily contractive patterns, shavasana is a great place to start. As well, I invite your contemplations on this subject.

For the Love of Chidambaram

This morning I stood to watch the crystal linga and then ruby Nataraja abhishekam, up front with a gaggle of little Indian ladies, one of whom chanted/sang beautiful mantra the whole time. I watched as the murtis were drenched in water, milk, honey, fruit, sandalwood, rice. I watched as the crowd gasped when the lamp alighted the ruby Nataraja from behind.

I sat in the hall afterward and tried to take it all in. There is something so rare and true and real and accessible here, it is so precious.

Priests chanting the vedas (one using his cellphone for reference). People sitting meditating, or chatting. Dikshitars doing their business. Westerners walking around dazed and confused.

I cried to know this is my last day here. I sat for quite a while soaking. Soaking in the grace of it all. Indescribable.

Then I made my rounds.

Each corner of the temple holds something. The plethora of deities too numerous to keep track of them all. The hunched old people who can barely walk. The dikshitars striding to do their business. The making of garlands.

And everywhere: worship. Palms raised overhead like a little temple or pressed together in front of the heart. Light offered, ghee lamps. Pranams. Mantras.

So alive!

A hidden corner with nagas (snake deities) and the Goddess in one of her many forms.

A dikshitar chanting into a cellphone, then handing it to a younger diskshitar who begins to listen to it.

Endless small shrines in the pillars, anointed with kumkum and lighted with clay lamps filled with ghee.

Inevitably my steps take me to the Dakshinamurti shrine. I have been sitting here in the early mornings when it is not too stinky. Today it is too stinky.

Around past the saints all labeled (in Tamil, which unfortunately I don’t read) and lined up. Respect, honoring lineage.

Pausing at the mula lingam, the oldest part of the temple.

Looking at the natural light as it plays in the long hallways and imagining what it looked like when the temple was lighted with the oil lamps lining the ceiling rather than electricity.

Moving on to Kamasundari, who has her own temple and it is fabulous. A little hike and at 11:30 the stones are quite hot on bare feet. Sticking to stones in the shade, or hurrying.

Walking down the steps inside…the beauty of the ceiling! Different vintages of paintings tell stories of the Goddess and of the temple. A lone dikshitar chanting, struggling a little I can tell. Yesterday he was there with two others, one named Shiva who is the son of Sundaramurti Dikshitar, who has been our host. Yesterday, Shiva seemed to be guiding the others, and I sat and listened to them chant for quite a while.

Inside it is dark, yet the beautiful saris on the sapta Matrikas are shining-alternating purple and gold.

It is too hot for proper pradakshina around the outside of the Goddess temple, so I take a quick sidetrip to sit in the shade before the Shri Yantra shrine.

The heat sends me “home” to my hotel, knowing I will return tonight for the chaos of the arathi, gazing back and forth at the reclining Vishnu, Nataraja dancing, bells clanging, singing, clapping, and happy chaos, again trying to soak it all in, holding it in my heart of hearts.

CHURNING OF THE OCEAN

shivapoison

One of the most pervasive myths in the Hindu lore is the long and intricate story of the “churning of the ocean.” I have been considering this myth as I have been processing and practicing this last post-election week. Here is a shortened version with the salient details applicable to my current consideration.

The devas (gods) and asuras (demons) were both seeking the nectar of immortality (amrta or soma). To get it, they worked together to churn the ocean. They upended a great mountain, and wrapped a huge snake around it and churned and churned for a very long time.

Eventually a variety of different things emerged, like a cow, an elephant, the goddess Laksmi, and jewels, happily claimed by the churners.

Then as they continued churning, a dark viscous noxious substance started to emerge. It was quite toxic and threatening to the world. They had to call upon the god Shiva to handle it. He held it in his throat, which is why one of his names is Lord Blue Throat (nilakantha). He transmuted the poison in this way and the churning resumed until the amrta emerged.

I have heard this story interpreted in many ways, a favorite is as a metaphor for our practice of yoga, particularly meditation. As we practice, we are churning our own consciousness, from which emerges gifts like centeredness, clarity, and creativity, and eventually more blissful states. But as well, along the way, we must deal with and transmute any poison that resides in our own individual consciousness.

We experience this in our yoga asana practice as discomfort arises physically due to tightness in our bodies or old injuries. We transmute these through conscious breathing and correct and therapeutic alignment such that eventually there is healing. But it may be unpleasant for a while.

And as well in yoga asana and especially meditation, frustration, residue of old patterns, and all kinds of psychic gunk can be churned up. The practice gives a context and methodology within which to transmute these challenges.

As I’ve thought about the story of the churning of the ocean in light of our current political climate, I’ve been thinking of the ocean in this myth representing our collective consciousness, and how we’ve stirred up and unleashed the poison. And the question becomes, who will transmute it? In the story it is Shiva, who is the consummate yogi. Shiva was called upon to handle it, he held and transmuted it.

Many of us have had the privilege and blessing of many years of yoga practice. As yogis we have many tools at our disposal to shift energy and transform our beings. We practice asana, pranayama, meditation, and chanting. We study the scriptures for guidance. And as we deepen our studies and practice, we have the power of transmutation.

The form this takes can vary. On a very practical level, for me it involves staying steadfast in my yoga practices, stabilizing myself in a place of connection to my heart. As a yoga teacher I will continue to aid others in this process, teaching the tools for transformation. As a citizen of this planet, I intend to do whatever I can to acknowledge the poison when I see it, and seek to transmute it by whatever means I have at my disposal.

I hope we can each remember and seriously consider utilizing the gifts we have received through the practice. We begin by acknowledging the poison is there, it has been unleased. Acknowledge as well that the gift of yoga has led to some degree of awareness, that you are awake at this critical time. Are you willing to engage, to work to transmute it in whatever way you have the power to do so?

Feel free to leave a comment regarding how you would like to transmute the toxic energy.

Choosing to Go Left

cindy5

I received a suggestion/challenge from a student in one of my yoga classes recently: can we sometimes go to the left side first? She felt she was tighter on the left and that it seemed we spent more time on that first side.

I found this an interesting challenge because it would require me to practice what I teach on several levels.

On the physical level I often have students switch up how they clasp their hands behind their back, in order to balance things out. This is a little different, but the same principle operates: not giving preference to one way of doing it. I often use the hand clasping as an example of a certain mindlessness and habitual patterning we allow in our practice, and in our lives as a whole, and the same thing applies to switching up which side we move to first.

In our yoga practice, most times we just automatically do it. When the teacher says clasp your hands behind your back, my tendency is to put my right index finger on top of my left. Over time, this is going to have a subtle imbalancing effect on my shoulders. But as interesting is that choice moment when I act seemingly without thinking. I just do it automatically, as if there is no other choice. This happens in our yoga practice, and in many other domains of our life.

This is an example of a habit pattern. Notice how we don’t think about it, we reach with certain hands, turn certain directions. We have a repeated way we travel from point A to point B. We have “our” way of doing things, perhaps honed from our own trial and error to discover the “best” way of doing things.

Maybe, maybe not.

Or perhaps a teacher told us to do it that way. In the tradition in which I began doing yoga, we always moved to the right side first. Some might argue there is a physical or more esoteric advantage to this.

Maybe, maybe not.

I realized I had established a pattern that I was perpetuating, and chose to see what it was like to start shifting that pattern.

It was challenging. I was constantly flummoxed as I taught because after 25 years of teaching it one way I had grown lazy with my instructions. I didn’t have to think about it, I just did it. And now I had to be mindful.

I persevered. I announced to my students we were going to start moving left first in some classes. It became a bit of a game as they noticed and reminded me when I slipped into my old patterns. And they got to see their own patterns as I switched it up, and they were challenged to shift their own patterning. We giggled at ourselves together, and together we began to shift the pattern.

In summary, here’s the steps of how I worked with it:

– Notice the pattern. This is often the hardest part because it is so automatic. In this case, I was open to feedback. Someone sweetly mentioned a pattern that might not be altogether positive, and I listened. At first I was resistant, and I had to look at that and evaluate whether or not I wanted to shift.

– Set an intention. I made it public. I asked for help and accountability. I announced it to my classes so they could remind me. This allowed them as well to look at their own habits and resistance.

– Make a plan. I committed to starting on the left side first on the first and third weeks of the month. I made it concrete.

– Do it. Again. And again.

– Flounder. I allowed myself to flounder. I made mistakes. I allowed myself to not be perfect.

– Stop in your tracks when you are enacting the old pattern. Choose again the new pattern. When I became aware I was caught in the old pattern, I stopped and switched, right there in the moment. I didn’t wait to shift it until later. So my students have had to endure starting on one side, only to have me shift, but as I said, they were in on the game, and they’ve played along very sweetly.

– Understand it is a process. It is challenging. Allow it to be challenging

– Acknowledge success. I noticed how it became easier as I established the new pattern. With the switching the hands behind the back, it is hard now for me to discern that the new pattern feels weird.

Of course this is a somewhat trivial example in the larger scheme of habits in our lives we could benefit from shifting. But it makes the point. We all have patterns, some of which serve us, but others that may not. As we refine our lives we need to be mindful that we are making choices, and whether we are choosing the optimal choice. Our ability to pause and make conscious choices is one of the greatest gifts of our humanity. May we enact it.