blog

A small gift with great meaning

Thu, 17 May 2012 01:27:01 +0100

Wandering on the seashore recently, I found myself picking up beach glass. That isn't unusual, but I don't really plan to do it. Over the years I have filled a few bowls and small crystal vases with the sand-blasted bits of green, brown, white, blue, and (the extra-special) lavender remnants. Their role in my house is to imbue small spaces with the essence of the ever-changing seaside.
My eyes scanned the areas where glass settles, always among pebbles of similar, pinky nail-size, and on the ocean-facing side of logs and rocks. A green speck. A white one.
The wind was cold and I buttoned my jacket up to the neck. I saw an elderly couple coming toward me. Their silhouettes revealed a relaxed aimlessness, a slow pace with stops to look at a tug pulling a log boom on the Salish Sea. Bending to pick up things. We drew alongside one another.
"I see you're gathering treasures, like me," the white-haired man smiled.
"Just a few glass bits," I said. I opened my hand to show three nuggets. "There's something about beach glass that I really like."
He put one of his hands under my wrist and opened the other one to drop several dozen sea gems from his hand into mine.
"Add these to your collection," he said. "I knew I was picking them up for something."
"But that's so much. There must be fifty pieces!" I said.
"Enjoy them," he smiled.
His wife smiled too, and off they went, meandering down the shoreline.
Now I have another dish filled with the sea's erosive work on a windowsill–a few pieces of shells, tiny black volcanic stones polished smooth with the ages, and time-etched glass in many shades. The bowl and its contents is like others in my house, but this one also is filled with the spirit of generosity. And a lesson in action not attached to acquisitiveness.

ईश्वर प्रणिधान Ishvara Pranidhana

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 01:08:43 +0100

A letter of condolence was written to Robert S. Marcus, the Political Director of the World Jewish Congress, in February 1950, not long after his son succumbed to polio. This is it in its entirety:
"A human being is part of the whole, called by us "Universe", a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. The striving to free oneself from this delusion is the one issue of true religion. Not to nourish the delusion but to try to overcome it is the way to reach the attainable measure of peace of mind."
It was signed, "sincerely yours, Albert Einstein."
To a yogini, this is a familiar theme. It is the message that Krishna imparts to Arjuna in the Bhavagad Gita, the ancient, sacred love song to the divine. When we are free of likes and dislikes, judgements and fears, delusion ceases and the state of samadhi, absorption, the eighth and final limb of Patanjali's system of yoga, emerges.
My now routine practice of yoga has made me keenly aware of the many times when my attention to the yamas and niyamas lapses. Of course, these setbacks are directly attributable to inner struggles with my well-formed ego. I remind myself, whenever it occurs to me, that the habits of rampant, uncontrolled thought lead me in a direction diametrically opposed to where I want to go.
The final niyama is ishvara pranidhana. This is commonly translated as surrender to the divine. For me, at this stage, this means recognizing the kleshas (obstructions to the truth – ignorance, egoism, attachment, aversion, and fear of death) as they arise. These things feed the delusion that Einstein wrote about.
One of the many things that my attention to the yamas and niyamas has made evident is that progress is non-linear. Each tiny step is part of a greater whole, like the petals of an unfurling thousand-petaled flower (there's that analogy again).
It is reassuring to me that the great Swiss scientist used the word "attainable".

Om Shanti.

PS: It has been many months since my last entry. In part this is because in October of last year my beloved mother passed away. Anita Andrés Sleeman (her life and work are on Wikipedia) was a true musical genius. Because of her I had an incredible education in jazz, classical, and contemporary music. (She even got me tickets for a Ravi Shankar concert when I was a teenager.) I am forever grateful for this and the many other gifts she brought to this world.

स्वाध्याय Svadhyaya

Tue, 13 Sep 2011 15:37:55 +0100

The fourth niyama, Svadhyaya, is an aspect of yoga that has taken a hold of me in a way that feels truly holistic. I have begun to form a palpable link within between the body, mind, and spirit through daily study and development of a devotional routine - actions that lead to knowledge of the Self. And, strangely, these actions are not bound by goals or a narrow view of achievement.
Patanjali's Sutra 2.44 states: Svadhyayad ista-devata-samprayogah.
According to the interpretation of this sutra by Swami Vishnu-Devananda in his excellent volume Meditation and Mantras, this means: "Through study that leads to knowledge of the Self comes union with the desired [deity]." He further states, "However a person conceives of God, that is how he encounters him." This sutra also alludes to the use of mantra, he says. "Constant repetition of the name of Deity will bring grace." [1]
This wisdom explained so simply is like a homecoming for me. I see the value of reverence for the divine, but the monotheistic dogma that Western religions espouse has never rung true for me. Even so, the archetype of the Christ is powerful and carries lessons and truths that I relate to - primarily the sacredness of birth and life, forgiveness, death, and resurrection. The stories surrounding the Christ are embedded in my psyche from my very early years. However, I can't find peace for myself within religion.
In my own yoga practice I have taken on repetition of the Gayatri Mantra 108 times per sitting, almost every day. (It takes me about forty minutes.)

Gayatri Mantra

Om - the realm of the divine
Bhur - of the physical plane
Bhuvah - of the astral plane
Swah - of the celestial plane
Tat - that
Savitur - the creator
Varenyam - fit to be worshipped
Bhargo - remover of sins and ignorance
Devasya - resplendent; shining
Dheemahi - we meditate
Dhiyo - buddhis; intellects; understanding
Yo - which; who
Nah - our
Prachodayat - enlighten; guide; impel

Without planning it, the theme adopted in Christian liturgy - birth, forgiveness, death, and resurrection - has developed quite strongly for me in this chanting practice. As I move from one bead of my mala to the next, I am aware that as my mind chatters I can always return to the meaning and words of the mantra, I forgive myself for wandering, I allow myself to die to the previous second and renew my efforts in the space between that time and the next second. In that sequence, the whole of creation is available to me, over and over and over in little segments that are gradually joining to become one experience. I find that time passes more quickly with each session and that I am always eager for the next opportunity to chant and meditate in this way.
Reading and re-reading Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, as well as the stunningly beautiful sacred poem The Bhagavad Gita, steadily and incrementally deliver me more fully into the realm of svadhyaya. It is helpful to consider the gunas and kleshas as a means of understanding humanity and its obstacles; it is also beneficial to contemplate the deities (such as Krishna, Kali, Durga) as avenues of forming a relationship to the divine.

[1] Swami Vishnu-Devananda, Meditation and Mantras, OM Lotus Publishing Company, New York, 2000, p. 181

तपस् Tapas

Tue, 13 Sep 2011 15:32:53 +0100

The third niyama - tapas - is usually translated from Sanskrit to English as 'austerity'. Austerity is one of those words that comes with connotations of severity and withdrawal - along the lines of the yama, bramacharya, commonly translated as 'celibacy' (see previous post).
In the vernacular: quit, give up, diet, unplug.
Even the word 'practice' can make us twinge at the thought of hardship. I have endeavored to explore this reaction - the hankering that erupts when one supposes that full indulgence is not 'allowed'. This feeling of deprivation, the fight to fill the emptiness, may well be what causes our minds to struggle so when we are about to do something that's good for us - go for a run, pass on the cheesecake, get onto the yoga mat …. It's a hard one to go along with, isn't it? Who in their right mind would choose austerity as we understand it?
I like to consider the yamas and niyamas as wholly original concepts that stem from fresh, new words. That's why Sanskrit is becoming so valuable to me as I shed my old skin and don the new one that is yoga. Yes, I know it's an ancient language, but its words help me to access the 'beginner's mind' that is so essential to learning fully.
So, from this little place that is my theory and my practice, tapas has come to mean 'self-discipline'. Patanjali's Sutra 2.43 Kayedriya Siddhir Asuddhi Ksayat Tapasah (By austerity, impurities of body and senses are destroyed and occult powers gained), tells me that we can know the principles behind yoga inside and out, but the real reward - the breaking out of the habits that shackle us - comes when we knuckle down and do it.

सन्तोष Santosha

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:06:06 +0100

This entry is about the second niyama, Santosha – contentment.
In my exploration of Santosha as an observance, my thoughts returned time and again to the words of my grandfather.
When Alejandro Andres was in the latter phase of his of his life of 96 years, he would often tell me (with his still-thick Spanish accent): "I have lived through many challenges in my life, but now, in my old age, I can finally say that I am contented."
Yes, he had survived considerable challenges. He emigrated from Spain in his teen years and lived in Panama, Honduras, and Cuba before making his way alone to New York. He worked as a scenic artist in the silent film era in Hollywood, and later he supported my grandmother and two daughters as a graphic artist and lithographer through the difficulties of the depression. He lived thirty years beyond his initial diagnosis with cancer – a disease that did not spare the lives of his brother and two sisters. He even managed to survive his wife of over six decades by several years.
It's inevitable that I would think about Grandpa Alex's words as I consider the meaning of Santosha; I have thought about his message many, many times since his death in 1999. He told me that he was contented because he had no more expectations about how his life should be. He accepted it as it was, not as he had hoped or thought it should have turned out.
"Contentment is a kind of freedom," he told me. "I don't want anything anymore."
When contentment registers within me, and it does happen more often as I get on in years, it's almost always because I feel relatively unattached to the outcome of my actions. I'm experiencing the moment I'm in solely for what it is. Some describe this as dispassion, but it isn't really that at all. Contentment as I know it is imbued with love and spirit, with devotion and full-heartedness. And, most importantly, freedom from want, which is what my grandfather alluded to.
I recently read the Bhagavad Gita, a sacred yogic text written about 2,300 years ago. The 'Song of God' is presented in a simple question and answer format. The archer and warrior Arjuna feels torment at having to fight in face-to-face combat against his cousins in a tribal war. With poetic simplicity, Lord Krishna advises him that the paths of knowledge of reality, and skillful, detached action are the only things that can bring him peace.
Through the practice of meditation we train ourselves to notice and relinquish the mindless pursuit of achievement and acquisition, and when that takes place the soul is freed. Santosha is realized.
At the end of his life my grandfather saw the impermanence of all things. Through this - and quite unexpectedly, I suspect, because by then he was beyond expectations - he found the quiet peace of contentment.

शौच Saucha

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:06:17 +0100

One of twenty-five blueberry bushes, recently planted.

Recently my friend Sue and I attended a local Earth Day celebration at the beach in Roberts Creek. It was a wonderful gathering of community-minded souls who displayed everything from tender lettuce seedlings to draft copies of the latest revision of the Official Community Plan.
An all-female marimba band (the Knotty Daughters) played heart-lifting music while children danced, dogs wagged, and the breeze lifted kites into the clear blue sky. We found a vendor who offered black bean soup with wild greens and homemade breadsticks. It was not only delicious, it was clearly highly nourishing in a way that most of the food we consume is not. The cook even gave us bowls and spoons that we returned to a tub that she took home for washing. No disposables – Sue and I both liked that a lot.
That's part of the story. Another part took place almost two weeks later.
But first back to Earth Day. After lunch I visited a table where the Roberts Creek Community Association was recruiting volunteer roadside cleaning personnel. A garbage bag and a sticker for pickup by the regional disposal service were exchanged for commitments to removing refuse from specific routes, systematically selected from the area street map on display. I chose my street. (Should be fairly easy, I thought. I hadn't noticed too much stuff on the roads on my walks.)
A fortnight later, when the weather was reasonably dry, my 10-year-old grandson and I headed off to do the work. It was a real eye-opener. We filled not one, but two garbage bags. The main contents: coffee cups and lids, beer cans, fast food containers, chip bags and candy wrappers, cigarillo tips, and cigarette butts. There were other things as well (an Ikea-type shelf, paper and plastic bags, a windshield wiper) but 90 percent was related to junk food, alcohol and nicotine.
No wonder, I said to my grandson, who became quite tired after two-and-a-half hours of climbing up and down the ditch banks. No wonder this stuff has been left on the roadside; the people who do it don't care about their own bodies, let alone the rest of the world. It's a clear case of garbage in, garbage out.
The first niyama, saucha, is commonly translated as internal and external purity. External purity, bahir saucha, means keeping the body clean. Water is the primary substance that provides us with the ability to maintain external cleanliness. Internal cleanliness, antah saucha, is built on developing an inner purity, which includes truthfulness. Many of us, once committed to the practice of saucha, begin the process of purification through attention to our diets. When we care about our own bodies and our health, and the bodies and health of those around us, we treat the earth well as a result.
These things are a choice. Changing habits is possible, no matter what. Patience, awareness, discipline … eliminating one thing at a time that doesn't serve ourselves or the planet in a positive manner … that's how we make a difference.
While I was surprised at the quantity of trash littering our roadway, I wasn't surprised at what it consisted of. I would have been surprised if we'd found glass jars that had contained raw food smoothies or the packages of sprouted flax seed crackers. I would have been surprised if we found cloth bags with vegetable and fruit trimmings or organic whole grain cereal boxes. My guess is that those packages and boxes are somewhere in the recycling system instead.

Yoga as a Link to Improving ANS Function

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:06:50 +0100

(A diversion from the Eight Limbs of Yoga)

The autonomic nervous system is the part of the peripheral nervous system that acts to control a variety of functions within the trunk area of the body. As I learned from the brilliant anatomy teacher, Dr. David Li Lam, “The autonomic nervous system regulates the activity of smooth muscle, cardiac muscle, and certain glands. It usually operates without conscious control but [is] regulated by the hypothalamus and brain stem. The main input to the ANS comes from the internal organs (interoceptors).” [1]
The parasympathetic branch of the ANS regulates conservation and restoration of energy so that the body is ever-ready for oxygen intake, digestion, absorption, elimination, and lacrimation – unceasing jobs that must be performed from birth to death. Due to the involuntary nature of these activities they are sometimes referred to as the ‘rest and digest’ functions.
The sympathetic branch of the ANS readies the body for emergency responses that may require high levels of energy. Normally, the parasympathetic system is counteracted by the sympathetic system only to the degree that normal functioning can occur, the two aspects working as complements of each other. When necessary, during times of physical or emotional stress, the sympathetic system, or ‘fight or flight’ response, takes over and the ‘rest and digest’ functions can be impeded. This imbalance of the ANS can impair overall adaptation to stress.
Malfunction of the ANS is called autonomic failure, which can lead to conditions where many other functions beyond those within the immediate purview of the ANS are compromised. In extreme situations, when the body has been taxed to exhaustion and cortisol (often referred to as the stress hormone) levels elevate, “ … all physiological systems are affected and slowly but inexorably collapse. Very high cortisol levels degrade protein, cause the immune system to shut down, thicken the blood and alter pain reception.” [2]
Signs of ANS impairment can include a drop in blood pressure upon standing quickly (orthostatic hypotension) or a drop in blood pressure within one hour of eating a meal (postprandial hypotension). These conditions occur more often in people with high blood pressure, even though it may be regulated by blood pressure medication. [3]
Although breathing is primarily autonomic, it can be performed in tandem with the conscious mind, as is evident during the practice of yogic breathing exercises called pranayama (life force practice). During pranayama, asana (yoga ‘poses’), and meditation, students are often asked to ‘notice the breath’ or to consciously inhale or exhale.
Savasana (corpse pose) is practiced after pranayama and asana and is often referred to by yoga teachers as ‘total relaxation’. In this asana, we ask our students to bring their attention to the breath as they completely relax. The purpose of savasana is to integrate the pranayama and asana into not only the gross body, but into the energetic systems known as the nadis, or pranic channels. Savasana is known to create a feeling of calm and well-being in practitioners; a few minutes in this pose is said to create the same results in the body as several hours of sleep.
If practiced on an ongoing basis, savasana has been scientifically proven to lower blood pressure. “The British medical journal The Lancet compared the effects of savasana with simply lying on a couch. After three months, savasana was associated with a 26-point drop in systolic blood pressure and a 15-point drop in diastolic blood pressure – and the higher the initial blood pressure, the bigger the drop." [4] The Yoga Journal Web site entry for savasana also lists calming the brain, relieving stress, relaxing the body and reducing headache, fatigue, and insomnia as benefits to this pose. All of these effects will bring a higher level of equilibrium to the pranic channels and, as a result, to the parasympathetic and sympathetic branches of the autonomic nervous system.
As a yoga teacher I endeavour to stress the importance of pranayama and savasana as well as the more physically challenging asanas in the classes that I teach. In this way students will experience an increased ability to consciously manage some of the stressors that can disable optimal ANS function.

[1] Dr. David Li Lam, Langara College Yoga Teacher Training, Anatomy and Physiology, p. 56

[2] Stephen J. Kiraly, MD, FRCPC, Your Healthy Brain, p. 205

[3] American Heart Association, americanheart.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=4463 (http://www.heart.org)

[4] Yoga Journal Beginner’s Guide, March 2011, p. 14

नियम The Niyamas

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:07:02 +0100

The yamas are universal tenets, the first of yoga's eight limbs. When practiced mindfully, they weave a moral fabric that forms a base from which we live. These encompass principles that most of us learn right from the beginning - don't lie, cheat, steal, hurt ... but it goes much deeper than that.
My previous postings have focused on the yamas, exploring them in a brief manner. Volumes could be written about each one (and have been); my intention is to ignite a spirit of inquiry in myself, and maybe in others as well.
My musings on the yamas has shown me that they are, indeed, like the fibres of a weaving - together they create a whole that fills and envelops us with the capacity for right mindfulness and right action. In my examination of the yamas, I found a common theme to be the ways that we have conditioned our minds to allow some measure of transgression - great or small - in each area. Our work in practicing yoga is to change our habits and curb our destructive self-permissions. That's where mindfulness comes in. Once we can see how we behave by paying attention to our thoughts we can consciously work to make improvements in our actions.
I continue my writings with sketches of the second of yoga's eight limbs as outlined in Patanjali's Yoga Sutras - the niyamas - personal observances. In our practice of the niyamas we form our unique relationship with yoga. This can be done with focus as we develop our daily sadhana, particularly through mantra and meditation. I find that setting the intention each morning to learn about and practice the yamas and niyamas to be profound and quantifiable. My thoughts, responses and actions are shifting over time. Being patient with myself feels like it is paying off.
The five niyamas are saucha (purity), sahtosha (contentment), tapas (austerity), svadyaya (spiritual studies), and ishvara pranidhana (constant devotion to the Divine). My next blog entry will be about saucha.

"It's not likely that we will master each of these precepts right from the start, especially given the underlying imbalances around us. But contemplating and doing our best to embrace and live them raises our consciousness and helps to make us better citizens of the world."

Bhava Ram, The 8 Limbs of Yoga - Pathway to Liberation, 2009; Deep Yoga, Coronado, CA

अपरिग्रह Aparigraha

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:07:28 +0100

The fifth yama is aparigraha, non-grasping.

The impermanence of all things is a fact of life. Even so, we occupy ourselves – almost incessantly – with thoughts and actions that reflect our goals to acquire things and create conditions that we want to claim as ours. We want to have and to hold, forever and ever. Amen. So be it.
Buddhist teachings tell us that suffering – dukkha – is caused by this very human trait: clinging to the idea, the hope, of love (or whatever you want to call it) everlasting. As life carries us through its inevitable changes we grieve the loss of what was or what could have been. We create identities, as defined by our appearance, our jobs, our relationships, our places in society. But try as we may, the eternal bliss that we seek is not to be found in these outer trappings. My life so far has shown me that the things I cling to most fervently are the ones that bring the most pain.
Since I began to study yoga, I have found the ancient wisdom of the yamas (explored in these journal entries) and niyamas (yet to be explored on these pages), as well as the remaining Eight Limbs of Yoga*, to have a strong correlation to what I learned earlier in Buddhist studies. The Buddha taught that the end to suffering – the cessation of dukkha – is to be found in magga – The Eightfold Path: Right Understanding, Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration.
Back to yoga.
Pantajali’s Yoga Sutra 1.2 states: Yogas chitta vritti narodah – translated as ‘yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind’. Listening to my mental chatter, the most prevalent ‘fluctuations’ clearly relate to grasping. Self-aggrandizing, self-annihilating, planning, regretting, wanting … For me, and most others, too, I suspect, the practice of aparigraha first involves paying close attention to the nature of one’s thoughts.
Hey. That’s the same thing that’s come to mind when contemplating all of the yamas.
The daily sitting is becoming a recognition of the familiar. Letting it go takes such effort. But practice makes perfect, so I have learned.
A friend recently asked why people on the ferries often look back to where they had been rather than ahead to where they are going. My thought was that looking behind or ahead are the same: acts of searching for certainty. I sent him this poem, which I wrote in 1995.

Over All

before you
the glow of sunset intoxicates
your eyes drink the light,
the colours, the day’s beauty
the unfolding blossoms of promise

behind you
the beast is getting closer
hungry, angry
there's a fight
between a white cat
and a black dog
both bleeding on the earth

you have drunk
and are drunk
on what is before you
and behind there are threats
and regrets

over all
there is no before
no behind
only now

* Yamas, Niyamas, Asana, Pranayama, Pratyahara, Dharana, Dhyana, Samadhi

ब्रह्मचर्य Brahmacharya

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:07:42 +0100

When the fourth yama, brahmacharya, was discussed in yoga teacher training it was presented as practicing "sexual celibacy". This, of course, brought up the following questions: "What's wrong with having sex with someone you love?" And, "Sex is a natural human function, like eating - why should it be repressed?"
Looking into the tenet in more depth, it seems it isn't that simple. While there are yogi saints who live and have lived in renouncement of sensual pleasures and physical possessions, many other devoted yogis and yoginis have committed to love relationships that include sexual activity. In other words, for the majority of us, it isn't what we do, but how we do it.
Brahma can be translated from Sanskrit as 'supreme spirit'; charya as 'concern for' or 'observation of'.
The plot thickens.
As yoga expert Donna Farhi puts it: "It doesn't take a genius to recognize that manipulating and using others sexually creates a host of bad feelings, with the top contenders being pain, jealousy, attachment, resentment, and blinding hatred. This is one realm of human experience that is guaranteed to bring out the best and worst in people, so the ancient Yogis went to great lengths to observe and experiment with this particular form of energy. It may be easier to understand brahmacharya if we remove the sexual designation and look at it purely as energy. Brahmacharya means merging one's energy with God." Another way Farhi puts it is "merging with the one".*
Sexualization for profit is rampant within contemporary yoga culture. The strong, supple body gained through rigourous asana practice is frequently exploited as a means of erotic arousal, which is the strongest possible tool for selling products; yoga is often taught by teachers who focus on physical appearance and strive to fill their classes with like-minded students; mainstream media channels are used to present yoga primarily as a means to become more sexually attractive. Again, it sells more. (See Yoga Journal and other yoga publications, available at most newsstands, for examples.)
Religious texts from around the world have been telling of the spiritual cost of unthinking sexual activity since ancient times, and these truths remain intact. We all need to remind ourselves of the positive and negative aspects of even the most ordinary of our thoughts and actions. Humanness is humanness, after all. That is what the first of yoga's eight limbs, the yamas, or characteristics of the wise, are all about.
Again, from Donna Farhi: 'As you progress in your yoga practice, take the time to pause frequently and ask, "Who am I becomming through this practice? Am I ecoming the kind of person I would like to have as a friend?"'**
The choice to observe brahmacharya could lead to cessation of sexual activity. It could also lead to sexuality within a spiritual practice that points us toward discovering our higher natures - in the context of our relationships with others and ourselves.

*Donna Farhi, Yoga Mind, Body and Spirit: A Return to Wholeness, Holt, Henry and Company, 2000, page 11.
** Ibid. p. 9.