Friday, July 11, 2014

Does the so-called "yogic journey" necessitate an instagram account? a hashtag? a facebook page?

As i practice into the body of my yoga, does it need to be on display to be loved, to be true, and to be worthwhile? Why do I struggle with my ego each time I see a handstand photo online?

(How can I even write this? So many people who i love finding art in their asana. Do i betray them?)

Do i betray myself if i never shine as bright as them? If I never achieve asana-greatness will I never be a yogi? Am I not trying hard enough?

What does it mean to be a yogi?

Do I need to have long legs, supple hamstrings, and colourful eco-friendly tights?

Is that one rung on the ladder to G-d's golden treehouse? 

If I become a yogic body will i come closer to a yogic mind?

I can't find G-d in that.

But then these days I don't even want to try. I just want to practice being this.

This. Being.

How can I love it more?

I ask. I feel. I navigate emotions like captain ahab. From a pile of bones sitting on a floor. The rising and falling of waves.

I am the white whale.

This isn't even a yogic journey. Because, really, "yogic" doesn't mean anything. It's just a word. It's just the way I'm expressing coming back to myself. But it's nothing really. It's so simple, it's not even good or bad. It's just becoming more right where i am. 

I think on that journey everything becomes more and more like love. Each moment is of utmost importance. In each encounter i meet a soulmate. 

The journey is so vast it includes all of life, yet so simple it becomes narrowed to one task. The practice of peace. 

Asana robs me of peace when it stirs my ego. Asana draws me into peace when it shows me the ever-changing nature of feeling, breath, circumstances. 

When I practice with the intention of peace, Asana is just another way I love myself.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

coming inside

you beg and you beg and once you are finally granted access to the whole world, you find that the very best part was the part you had access to all along.

you start as a baby. you can't move but to cry and flail. you are confined to your own little body. 

as you grow bigger and more capable, your world expands.

now the perimeter of your crib. now the soft blanket where your mother places you and you begin to crawl. now the coffee table where you prop yourself up for the first time.

the whole room. the whole house. and finally you go outside and play. you walk to school by yourself. you get older and you borrow your mother's car. 

you are free. you fly away to the other side of the world. you go where your impulses take you.

you try everything.

you taste foods, drugs, flesh. you send your mind through the expanse of books, of knowledge and learning.

you go where your imagination will allow you.


then you sit. alone. in a room.

you become very still and quiet. 

you wait for that treasured glimpse of the whole universe inside you.

Monday, March 24, 2014

proximity is also an illusion

In quantum physics, Heisenberg's uncertainty principle tells us that when two particles collide they are put off their original trajectory and forever affected by their brief encounter. Furthermore, by gathering information (on location or momentum) of one of the particles, we automatically know related information about the other particle. The impact of the encounter, however brief, is such that each particle is changed and neither are ever the same again.

And so it is with human relationships. 

Sometimes over many years, a lifetime, we grow with and through another - lifelines entwined like twisted tree trunks. But more often we are drawn into proximity with one another for the briefest of collisions. Seemingly insignificant are these moments, but somehow they are shaping, not only our days, but our lives.

We sit and have a coffee and one will tell a story about her child, for example. How the child might be struggling in school, or maybe how the child did something of wonderful significance. An emotion will arise in the woman telling the story - worry, pride. There is a moment of unveiling. Through the emotion there is resonance with the truth of being and you, the one listening, can feel that emotion in your body as well (empathy). 

It is the same as when you see people embracing at the arrivals gate. You experience their emotion through your body. 

That moment of emotional resonance is a portal into oneness.

Then you will pick up your respective handbags, pay the cheque and leave on your separate ways. 

But what has just happened here? Something has been shared. A chemical reaction has taken place in each of your bodies and even as you go about the rest of your day, that experience is touching everything you are doing in the most delicate and imperceptible way. 

 What happens when we love? That powerful feeling of connection and profound respect, appreciation, and unmasked regard for another's well-being - it is readily available to those who can open themselves to vulnerability. We can fall in love many times each day, in each of our interactions, with a stranger across the street, if we can sense that space inside of us that is the same as that in them.

I think that when we love we see and value each 'collision' with another (so to speak) as a sacred and monumental act. Sacred in its divinely encoded message, momentous in its power to expand [who we really are].

And this is why (coming back to specifics) I can't hate an ex-lover, for example. Those beautiful moments once shared are every bit a part of the now. Your light is part of the light that shines from me from now until forever. I can't thank you enough for that.

Our proximity will always be in relation to those with whom we've collided. We are never too far apart to erase love.

As if to confirm this principle to me in no uncertain terms, a man came and sat next to me in the cafe where I was writing this post today. We began to talk and the man told me a story about his days as a mathematician when he travelled to Germany and worked with Werner Heisenberg. I told him that it was crazy because I was just writing about Heisenberg and showed him the first lines of this blog. The man smiled and said, "see, this is what I'm trying to tell you. We may not understand the magic in life, but it is there for us to enjoy."

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

the life-giving power of corpse pose

Savasana is the time when we acknowledge the impermanence of our yoga practice. It is the transition between the end of the practice and the re-emergence into our worldly life. 

In Savasana we lay ourselves out like a corpse signifying the death of the practice. We keep the mind steady and the body still. We practice non-attachment. Non-attachment to our asana practice, non-attachment to our thoughts. We practice non-attachment to what has just happened and what is about to happen. We are still and centered and alert in this present moment. We let everything go, retaining only the breath.

The death of the practice.

We are not in mourning at this death. This death is energized with the power of our practice, the movements of the body, the intention of the breath. As we spread the mind and body onto the floor, that intention rises. It hums, it vibrates, the energy of that union with our higher selves.

And, like the corpse of an animal feeds the earth it lays on, in our false death we feed the earth with our energy.

When we send our intention outwards our Savasana becomes a powerful giver of life. It is, at one level, an important resting pose after a challenging practice, but on another level it is a powerful way to share the energy we've created within the room and beyond.

The subtle power of Savasana comes from the recognition that, like everything in existence, our power will fade, our bodies will pass away into the ground, we will receive energy, achieve goals, climb to the top. We will fall along the path, we will sometimes not get what we want, we will fail. 

There is a continuous sharing of energy that flows through us all and through the universe. We are always receiving energy or giving energy. 

In Savasana, we honor the recognition that there will be a time for us to shine, but there will also be a time for us to stand back, step down. When this time comes we give our strength and energy to others freely and openly. It is their turn to play, to acheive. It is our turn to wait in stillness.

My Savasana practice has taken on this significance. When I lie in Savasana I relax and gently fill the room with my energy, sending it to others in the room and in my life that may have use for it now. Then I begin again, fresh, with the acknowledgement of Namaste.

As I embrace the "death" that is crucial to giving life, at least symbolically/energetically in my yoga practice, I am reminded of the wise teaching of many who encourage us to live as though each moment could be our last. 

Wasn't it Robin Williams who said in Dead Poets Society "we are food for worms".

And Carlos Castenada who wrote, "Let each of your acts be your last battle on earth. Only under those conditions will your acts have their rightful power."

When we see the moments of our life through that lens we understand the precious precarious power in each drop of life. We don't fear death. We know all things pass away. It is all part of the cycle, giving life to the next and the next and the next.

I believe Leslie Kaminoff says it best:

“Every pose that you master you’re going to lose. Except one: Savasana.”


 

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

begone!: 3 ways to rid yourself of an energy vampire


An energy vampire is someone who feeds off other people's energy because they are feeling low and don't know how to bring themselves back up. In my experience, an energy vampire will not be able to drain you when you are at your highest, most happy, confident, and strong state. They will wait until you are weakened slightly by some negative event, or if you are just feeling a bit tired or lower than usual. 

You will know you've encountered an energy vampire when you find yourself left in a funk by someone who appears to have latched on to you and won't leave you alone until they've dumped all of their negativity and drama onto you.

You should never encourage this kind of conversation, but sometimes the energy vampire doesn't need to be encouraged to continue their tirade.

I should be clear here. I am not talking about a friend who has had a bad day and is coming to you for support. The energy vampire doesn't really have a purpose or particular problem in mind. They are just interested in spreading negativity.

I've been working with this quite a lot lately and have found a couple of things that really work to stop the drain of my own personal energy and restore it to it's higher level.

1. Sage. Sage burning has been used in many cultures as a method for purifying a space or a person. 

I was amazed just how completely this technique works in a space where the energy might be dark, negative or low, or where an energy vampire might have been hanging out. 

Simply light the sage and waft the smoke around the area in question. You can even do this to purify yourself after an attack. 

If you don't have sage, you can use incense also. It may not be as powerful, but the intention that you bring to the practice is the most important thing.

2. Water. Stand under a shower, dive into the ocean, make yourself a mineral bath. Close your eyes as you do and imagine the pure water glowing with healing light as it pours over you. 

Decide that when you emerge from the water you will be reborn, your energy restored.

3. Breath. This one you can do during the attack to protect yourself and even deter further attack. 

As you continue to look in the direction of the energy vampire, bring your awareness to your breathing. Feel the inhale and feel the exhale. Hear the breath and feel the breath and let the sound of the voice fade into the background. 

Let your vision turn inward and see the energy vampire as a child, crying out for help and attention. Continue to give no importance to what they are saying. 

Continue to feel the breath for as long as it takes for the energy vampire to go away. They may look at you for a response. Make sure you do not buy in. Smile lovingly or say something general like "is that so". Continue feeling the breath until you relax back into your own body.

These are just a few things that I have found work best for me. I hope you find them useful too and would love to hear your tips for things that you have found helpful.

Monday, January 27, 2014

The book that knew me: Reflections on Baron Baptiste’s 40 Days to Personal Revolution


As she looked into my eyes, a rush of memories came through my mind spontaneously. All of the lessons, the challenges, the failures and losses, and the happiness and peace of the past two years rose up within me in that one moment.

It was the last meeting for our ’40 Days’ group and we had been given an odd (and somewhat uncomfortable) group exercise. We were told to stand facing another person and to look into their eyes. As we did so we were instructed to tell them about our experiences of the last 40 days, in silence, using only our eyes.

As I passed through all the stages of awkwardness and discomfort that you can imagine an exercise like this would entail, I began to really look. What I saw, as I peered deep into the eyes of my fellow 40-dayer, surprised me. All of the struggle, the growth, and the joy that had often left me feeling alone in the world – I saw these in her also. What I saw in her eyes was, in fact, myself.

This is what the 40 Days program does. It brings people together to grow.

My first time participating in the program was two years ago. Everything involved with the program felt foreign then. The daily yoga practices and meditation, the concepts in the book, the suggestions about diet – everything was a new and challenging experience.

I remember some very significant “aha!” moments during that first time around.

One, for example, was when the group leader asked the question, “how much of what you are eating is food and how much is actually a food product?

Until that point I hadn’t put much thought into what I ate, but that single question changed everything. From that moment of clarity I changed my eating patterns entirely and haven’t looked back.

Another moment of realisation came during one of my daily meditation sessions.

I had never meditated before and often found my mind racing uncontrollably, but on that day, out of nowhere, I asked the question, “who would I be without thoughts?”

As I asked the question, a space seemed to open up somewhere inside me. For the most blissful moment I became separate from thought and just existed in being.

That experience taught me that the world won’t fall apart if I don’t constantly hold it together with thought. I realised that my identity doesn’t have to be defined by my thoughts and that I can choose whether or not I want to buy into them.

So much change took place during that first 40 Days and, looking back, I see it as the definitive point at which I started to steer my life in the right direction. It was the bridge between doing yoga and being yoga.

I became much healthier physically. I dropped toxic relationships and toxic patterns. I opened my eyes to what I wanted my life to be.

Doing the 40 Days Program for the second time this past year was like coming home. My thrashed and ink-marked book felt like an old and cherished friend as I pulled it off the shelf and tried to reinsert the first 26 pages in their proper order. The changes that took place this time around were less visible to the outside world but just as palpable within.

There is always something more we can learn about ourselves. We can always get to a deeper level. That is why this program (or any dedicated and continuous practice like this) works, regardless of where you are on your path.

And, like I saw in that woman’s eyes that day, underneath our unique personal struggles we are all seeking the same healing. This healing is equally available to all of us.

So, if anyone asks me about the 40 Days to Personal Revolution program, there is very little I can say about it. You need to experience it to know.

For me it will always have a special place in my heart, like a first love. It is the book that knew me when I didn’t know myself. It reached inside me and pulled the real me out of the shell I was stuck in. I will forever be grateful to the 40 Days and to Baron Baptiste for opening my eyes to love.


Gratitude and love to the beautiful Yoga Loft in Newcastle NSW for sharing my story on their monthly newsletter! Love you guys!

Sunday, January 26, 2014

the "not-doing" of the self

From Journey to Ixtlan, this segment of Carlos Castenada's book had me jumping up and down in my seat. To separate the real you from your opinion of you is both difficult and necessary on the journey to an awakened state of being.

From now on and for the period of eight days I want you to lie to yourself. Instead of telling yourself the truth, that you are ugly and rotten and inadequate, you will tell yourself that you are the complete opposite, knowing that you are lying and that you are absolutely beyond hope.

But what would be the point of lying like that, don Juan?

It may hook you to another doing and then you may realise that both doings are lies, unreal, and that to hinge yourself to either one is a waste of time, because the only thing that is real is the being in you that is going to die. To arrive at that being is the not-doing of the self.



Monday, January 20, 2014

what do you do?

Lately this commonly-asked question has been raising other questions for me. 

When someone asks me what I do, I know what they mean. They want to know what profession I'm in, do I have an interest or a marketable skill which makes me unique and that we can use as a talking point to get to know one another. It's a perfectly reasonable question really. 

The issue with this question is that for me, if I answered it the way I know they want me to answer it, I would have very little to say about my job. That is because it does not represent who I am in the least. 

This contradiction has brought up within me a range of interesting, if not a little odd, responses to the question, "so, what do you do?" Some of these include:

"I do lots of things! I love to write, go to the beach, practice yoga, etc etc"

"You mean, what do I do for work? I run the office at a mining company."

"I publish a blog. I spend lots of time reading and studying about issues related to holistic wellness. As far as how I make money? I do administration work."

"My job is administration at a mining company, but my real work is writing about and studying mind-body wellness."

"Ha ha ha....lots of stuff."

Why is it that we feel we need to get to know somebody by finding out about their job? How much does our job actually say about us? 

I love meeting those people who are living the career of their dreams. They can't stop talking about what they 'do' because they love what they do.

However, I know a good number of people who, like me, are off 'doing' other things in their mind when they are at their jobs each day. 

I know it's just a habitual way of striking up conversation, however I think I'm going to make a point to change that question. Instead of 'what do you do', a better question might be, 'how do you like to spend your time?' 

That one would get me talking.................

Thursday, January 9, 2014

compassion, basic goodness and psychopaths

I recently read a great article in elephant journal about whether psychopaths also have the "basic goodness" that Buddhist perspective claims we all share.

I was really grateful for this article as it addressed a question I have had in my mind for some time. The whole idea of psychopathology seemed to challenge the spiritual tenets that I have been learning and adopting over the recent years. The idea that a person can be “hard-wired to be evil,” as some of the comments on this article alluded to, doesn't fit within the spiritual framework of a world where everything changes and everyone has equal access to enlightenment.

I struggled with this one for years but have had no opportunity to voice the question (or perhaps no desire to bring up such an uncomfortable topic), but when I read this article the pieces seemed to come together to show me the picture of how we might come to know a psychopath from the perspective of love.

As Rinzler’s article states, when we decide to practice compassion there is no half way. Compassion is absolute, just as love is. When we have true compassion for one, we must feel true compassion for all. Or as Rinzler puts it, “We cannot choose who we invite to our compassion party…We have to offer them all the guacamole dip and invite them to take a seat.”

How can this be? 

We can easily fathom “love thy neighbour”. In our better moments we can even fathom “love thy enemy”. But a deranged mass-murderer (or some other manifestation of psychopath)? Surely they don’t deserve it. They will never change and they are beyond help. Well…

Doesn't that just make you feel sorry for their suffering, right then and there?
To intellectualize this just a little bit, here is how my mind seems to have broken it down.

If when we practice compassion we have compassion for everyone, what is the trait or the hook in them that can call us to the feeling of compassion in our hearts? In order to have compassion we must be able to see a part of ourselves in them, relate, feel for their struggle and therefore wish them real peace.

In a psychopath we can find no empathy, no willingness to change and, some may say, no goodness. Yet we can still have a very real and meaningful compassion for them. (We have to find this compassion in order to work out our own salvation). How can we have compassion for someone seemingly so utterly removed from the "basic goodness" within all humans? 

The answer is that compassion doesn't look at a personality or a physical body. It doesn't say, “I don’t like this about you, but I do like this and this and therefore I find I can have compassion for you” (that would be judgement, not compassion). Compassion doesn't need to find ‘goodness’ in anybody for them to be worthy of our love. We don't need to be reassured that goodness is there or attempt to see it (whether evident or buried deeply under some layers of animosity, pain, psychological hardwiring, etc). That is because compassion isn't about a personality or a person's actions or even a person.

Compassion operates on the level of the soul. When, somehow, you can look into another's eyes and see that there is a soul ‘in there’ THAT is the hook. That is the part which is the same as you. 

When you see or sense the soul in another then you can understand that the suffering of this person, and the suffering of the people that this person has victimized by their actions, is not even as great as the suffering of the soul.

The soul knows. The soul remembers. But the soul cannot come through this body. In its physical expression something has occurred that has created a separation.

As it drops one incarnation and becomes one with all that is, the soul unites again with its higher purpose (which is to shatter illusion in this physical dimension) and it vows to do better next time.

And then, I guess, depending on your beliefs about the after-life and reincarnation, karma, sankharas, etc., the soul re-enters the physical dimension to grow again this awareness of reality through the birth canal of illusion.

You might say that someone who was a psychopath in one lifetime has some very deep sankharas as a result of very negative karma (doing ‘bad things’) in that lifetime. You could say that their next incarnation will provide them with circumstances that are particularly conducive to working off this karma. Like every other soul, it is moving through the process of purification towards enlightenment. In that way, we are the same.

You could interpret the process in many ways, but personally, I don’t think it matters much to this discussion. The reality is that the person in their physical manifestation as a psychopath is doing something their soul does not agree with. In their body and their mind they might not feel remorse or regret or empathy, but the soul always yearns for unity and it suffers as it exits the body, knowing it was fooled by separation once again.

The suffering of a psychopath may or may not be on a body-level, but it is certainly on a soul-level. And that is the place where we feel compassion.

This soul. My brother soul. It is so separate it has forgotten entirely. I wish this soul freedom. I wish this soul peace. May some part of this soul experience my peace, my happiness, my love. May it come to know itself again. May it break the cycle of suffering so that we can all come to know an even greater peace in the oneness that we are.

So yes, I think compassion is for everyone, even if “Basic Goodness” is only comprehensible on the level of the soul.


As one of the greatest Buddhas said, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” 


Saturday, January 4, 2014

ripples of words

Sometimes there is too much to say. The words rise up all at once and suffocate the message. Or there are too many messages and the words can’t come quick enough and there is fear that you will never get it said (what you need to say).

Sometimes there are no words. There is only the purity of experience, maybe an emotion. But no words come and you don’t try to summon them because they don’t matter.


In this moment the words are ripe with potential. There are hundreds of stories to sing and the words are flowing as the ripples in a pool that catches a waterfall. From all points where the waterfall contacts the pool outwards and outwards and outwards. Complex pattern of ripples; waves with many possible destinations.

I could start anywhere and get somewhere. I could start nowhere and bask in the hum of the infinite web of ripples.

I could pan out and see the whole pattern of interconnected waves. See them at their origin and at their destination simultaneously. Or I could hone in on one fragment and watch it flick in and out of existence, playing its predestined role in chaos.


I could and yet there's laundry to hang and dishes to wash and enemies to invent. So many possibilities for distraction.