hospitality

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all! - Rumi

When I came across this poem by Rumi which seems to be speaking to equanimity, I thought about the "how"s of that, like stepping back from a feeling to become the witness of it, rather than identifying with it, but then I also thought of the Middle Eastern practice of hospitality.

Whether enemy or friend (or both - ah, family), the practice is to accept them all into the home equally, which in Arab terms, basically equates to effusively. While I kind of got the logic for a practice like that in terms of nomads relying on that principle for survival in a harsh environment, with each party knowing that the kindness would be repayed because of the universial nature of it in that region, and thus being obligated to sustain it, I didn't quite get why that practice might be maintained out of a harsh environment.

But, here we go. It's like equanimity; straining and wishing the bad feeling (visitor) wasn't there isn't going to make the visit go any better, so one might as well accept it and make the best of it.

Interview

I finally had my interview for yoga school the other day, which, in truth, didn't actually turn out to be that much of an interview in the usual sense. I hadn't really mentally prepped for it in any way, since my intention was basically to just be myself and speak from my heart. In any case, after glancing over my transcripts, letters of recommendation, and health statement to review them, she looked over my idea for what I would do with the education would be, and then told me a couple stories about her teacher in South India.

Basically, he is in charge of a yoga clinic, like any health clinic, but with remedies based in Ayurveda and yogic practices. One day a judge came in, complaining of a sharp, chronic pain in his wrist. The teacher asked him, do you like your job? The judge replied, well, of course, I'm a very important man, I help many people. The teacher then queried, but, did you always want to be a judge? The judge reflected, and said, when I was young I wanted to be a poet; but both my parents and I recognized that poetry is no way to make a livelihood, so I followed my duty and went to law school. Instead of giving him poses or breathing exercises to do, the teacher asked him to go home, and write creatively for half an hour each evening. In short order, the pain in the judge's wrist disappeared.

In the other story, a German man arrived at the clinic after much discontented travelling. He'd left Germany, not getting along with family, finding the people too serious, the weather too cold. Italy was better in that the food and weather were great, but the people weren't serious enough. Ireland's food was fine, and so were the people, but the weather was once again too cold. Long and short, the teacher handed the man a camera, explaining that the clinic needed photos that exemplified "harmony" for a project. Months later, they assumed the man had just taken the camera, and left. Eventually, however, he returned, with a portfolio of beautiful pictures of harmony - between people, in nature, in many ways. The clinic staff asked whether he would like to remain as a student, but he respectfully declined - he suddenly felt he should go reconcile with his estranged brother.

Basically, one point she was making was to emphasize that the part that most people think of as yoga, the physical, pose-oriented part, is actually a small part of what yoga is all about. The other point she tangentially made was that by her (and her teacher's measurement), the way one can tell if their yoga practice is "working" is to look at the quality of one's relationships - with people, nature, work, etc - whether they are happy and healthy.