Things I need to work on upon setting out to teach a beginning yoga class:
Actually, nevermind, it's basically variations on the same issue, pacing. For one, in the very-beginning context that that particular class had, I would have done well to do several more repititions of each flow or pose; where I was concerned they might become bored, they actually wanted more, so they would be able to build confidence with each try. Also, pausing to add footnotes and sidebars of medical concerns, bits of philosophy and such, can help in giving the class a physical break, in a sense without them realizing it. Which is basically what my teacher was doing with her interjections, thankfully. And slowing down, natch. Yay nervousness. But hey, it was okay, all in all, I think.
Interesting local metaphor: instead of the lotus being representative of the crown-chakra, the saguaro flower was used. Which I could see working in a different way, involving something about the saguaro's far-spreading roots, and it's slow growth...interesting to think about, anyway.
-the middle road, heh
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Hm.
I'm at something of a loss for one last bit of my application for yoga school. That is, basically, what do I see myself doing with that education? I have an idea of what I would like to do, I'm just not sure how to explain it.
My main interest in yoga is not actually the physical, asana aspect - as much as I'm a very physically inclined person - but rather, in the philosophy and tools for self-development and self-study that are contained within the other limbs of yoga. In that regard, I'd like to combine those limbs with a creative outlet - poetry, or possibly even photography - as a way for people to get into those less well known aspects of yoga, and also just as a kind of contemplative creative outlet, like, say, zen calligraphy. So, perhaps a class would consist of some light hatha or vinyasa yoga, and/or meditation (or even pranayama/breathwork?), and then some discussion of, say, a niyama or Ayurvedic concept, leading into a writing workshop, tying back into the earlier exercises and discussion.
Now, how to word that well and concisely for the application...
Between steps, between breaths,
I saw a hundred suns.
They were strung, sparkling pendants,
from the nascent leaves of a youngling plant
(succulent with verdant life)
each bright star floating in a drop of dew,
and in that pacific moment
the wind chimes still sang
from each point of light.
My main interest in yoga is not actually the physical, asana aspect - as much as I'm a very physically inclined person - but rather, in the philosophy and tools for self-development and self-study that are contained within the other limbs of yoga. In that regard, I'd like to combine those limbs with a creative outlet - poetry, or possibly even photography - as a way for people to get into those less well known aspects of yoga, and also just as a kind of contemplative creative outlet, like, say, zen calligraphy. So, perhaps a class would consist of some light hatha or vinyasa yoga, and/or meditation (or even pranayama/breathwork?), and then some discussion of, say, a niyama or Ayurvedic concept, leading into a writing workshop, tying back into the earlier exercises and discussion.
Now, how to word that well and concisely for the application...
Between steps, between breaths,
I saw a hundred suns.
They were strung, sparkling pendants,
from the nascent leaves of a youngling plant
(succulent with verdant life)
each bright star floating in a drop of dew,
and in that pacific moment
the wind chimes still sang
from each point of light.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
borrowed poem
Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.
Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer.
Death is speechless, so hear my speech.
This is Salty, who served his ka and his tete. Say true.
May the forgiving glance of Karuna heal his heart. Say please.
May the arms of God raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.
Surround him, God, with light.
Fill him, Threnody, with strength.
If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let everyone whose name he calls call his in return.
This is Salty, who lived well, loved his own, and died as he would have it.
Each dog owes a death. This is Salty. Give him peace.
Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer.
Death is speechless, so hear my speech.
This is Salty, who served his ka and his tete. Say true.
May the forgiving glance of Karuna heal his heart. Say please.
May the arms of God raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.
Surround him, God, with light.
Fill him, Threnody, with strength.
If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let everyone whose name he calls call his in return.
This is Salty, who lived well, loved his own, and died as he would have it.
Each dog owes a death. This is Salty. Give him peace.
Monday, April 9, 2007
notes on meditation
On the weekend I got a nice chance to sit and meditate under a tree like I used to, a good few years ago, I guess, in the promenade of olives and pines along the western side of the University of Arizona campus. The meditation went as mine usually does, though for blessedly longer than I've had the stamina or time for, of late, but it was really the moments after the practice that struck me.
That is, oftentimes after I meditate (excluding some times where I'm untangling a tricky emotional issue, and I just crash and sleep afterwards) I feel I'm in a particular, peculiar state of mind. And the only way I can describe it is as, "poetic." Every color I see is just vibrant, almost singing with its tone, a hundred motes of dust dance and skirl through the air as if they were underwater, sound is pleasant in its existence...I could go on, obviously. If that's how an Awakened person lives their life, I'm glad to put the effort in, even if it's an effort that seems to ask more than it gives, as some have put it.
-
"We could say that meditation doesn’t have a reason or doesn’t have a purpose. In this respect it’s unlike almost all other things we do except perhaps music and dancing. When we make music we don’t do it in order to reach a certain point, such as the end of the composition. If that were the purpose of music then obviously the fastest players would be the best. Also, when we are dancing we are not aiming to reach a particular place on the floor as in taking a journey. When we dance, the journey itself is the point, as when we play music the journey itself is the point. And exactly the same thing is true in meditation. Meditation is the discovery that the point in life is always arrived at in the immediate moment." – Alan Watts
'There is a secret to making a little pond in your Japanese garden. If it is an open pond the koi or goldfish will tend to stay in the same area. But if you put a stone in the middle of the pond and create a circle "like a donut" or a course to move in, they will swim more and grow bigger and stronger. Just by the "form" of the pond alone, one can encourage the growth and development of the fish that live in it.' - from A Path With Heart
That is, oftentimes after I meditate (excluding some times where I'm untangling a tricky emotional issue, and I just crash and sleep afterwards) I feel I'm in a particular, peculiar state of mind. And the only way I can describe it is as, "poetic." Every color I see is just vibrant, almost singing with its tone, a hundred motes of dust dance and skirl through the air as if they were underwater, sound is pleasant in its existence...I could go on, obviously. If that's how an Awakened person lives their life, I'm glad to put the effort in, even if it's an effort that seems to ask more than it gives, as some have put it.
-
"We could say that meditation doesn’t have a reason or doesn’t have a purpose. In this respect it’s unlike almost all other things we do except perhaps music and dancing. When we make music we don’t do it in order to reach a certain point, such as the end of the composition. If that were the purpose of music then obviously the fastest players would be the best. Also, when we are dancing we are not aiming to reach a particular place on the floor as in taking a journey. When we dance, the journey itself is the point, as when we play music the journey itself is the point. And exactly the same thing is true in meditation. Meditation is the discovery that the point in life is always arrived at in the immediate moment." – Alan Watts
'There is a secret to making a little pond in your Japanese garden. If it is an open pond the koi or goldfish will tend to stay in the same area. But if you put a stone in the middle of the pond and create a circle "like a donut" or a course to move in, they will swim more and grow bigger and stronger. Just by the "form" of the pond alone, one can encourage the growth and development of the fish that live in it.' - from A Path With Heart
Thursday, April 5, 2007
and Lotus
There are probably a thousand layers to the significance of the lotus in terms of spiritual metaphor (just like that top chakra, which is another layer, natch), but I like one simple, common analogy in particular. That is, a lotus seed begins in muck and mire and darkness, at the bottom of the pond. Yet it finds nutrient in that, enough to grow up and up through clearer water, till finally it breaks the surface, and is illuminated by the sun, to blossom.
So, to follow up on the near enemies described in A Path With Heart, I'll continue drawing from the text using that metaphor. As Kornfield describes, one can fall into shadow by complacency and not being mindful in one's practice, but there is another path out of that besides avoiding it in the first place, and that is to fight fire with fire and rise out of that shadow in turn.
For example, in the muck and mire of confusion and feeling disconnected from the world, one might release the anxiety and fear of the confusion, and in that relaxing feel more open to dispell the suffering of disconnected separation. The lessons learned are the nutrients the lotus seed finds to grow its stalk into the clearer water. In that same vein, even if one somehow rose out of that muck with judgemental aversion to it, in that clearer space (even if it is clarity brought by anger), one might find discriminating wisdom - a "clarity that can help and heal."
And if one finds themselves in that clearer space, even without being mired by confusion or heckled by aversion, one may find themselves grasping at pleasure, turning that natural impulse into unhealthy, excessive desire. But, even in that, one might truly blossom by turning their desire toward a healthier, more balanced path, bringing beauty into the world through energy channeled into creativeness, or sharing their desire for pleasure by compassionate action. And in that, one blooms like a lotus, in full, intense color under the sun, shining with a sun in their heart as well.
So, to follow up on the near enemies described in A Path With Heart, I'll continue drawing from the text using that metaphor. As Kornfield describes, one can fall into shadow by complacency and not being mindful in one's practice, but there is another path out of that besides avoiding it in the first place, and that is to fight fire with fire and rise out of that shadow in turn.
For example, in the muck and mire of confusion and feeling disconnected from the world, one might release the anxiety and fear of the confusion, and in that relaxing feel more open to dispell the suffering of disconnected separation. The lessons learned are the nutrients the lotus seed finds to grow its stalk into the clearer water. In that same vein, even if one somehow rose out of that muck with judgemental aversion to it, in that clearer space (even if it is clarity brought by anger), one might find discriminating wisdom - a "clarity that can help and heal."
And if one finds themselves in that clearer space, even without being mired by confusion or heckled by aversion, one may find themselves grasping at pleasure, turning that natural impulse into unhealthy, excessive desire. But, even in that, one might truly blossom by turning their desire toward a healthier, more balanced path, bringing beauty into the world through energy channeled into creativeness, or sharing their desire for pleasure by compassionate action. And in that, one blooms like a lotus, in full, intense color under the sun, shining with a sun in their heart as well.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Shadows
In Jack Kornfield's A Path With Heart he touches upon the concept of 'near enemies.' That is, along with every benefit that comes from a meditative or yogic or spiritual practice, there is a shadow that should be watched for - the more negative aspect that one might fall into out of laziness or un-mindfulness or even being misguided.
Paraphrasing for the most part here, an insight meditation or Buddhist practice might lead towards a withdrawal from the world, and similarly Zen or Vedantic practices might find one feeling disconnected or ungrounded in their every day life. In a more physical way, someone focused entirely on hatha yoga might find themselves developing a perfection of body, and forgetting to develop their heart and mind. Or in a slightly different vein, a devotee of Kundalini yoga may become addicted to the physical-mental experiences characteristic of the practice, forgetting their meaning and significance (or even, lack thereof). And in a more widespread manner (re: say, organized religion), an overly moralistic practice may lead to either a reinforcement of low self-esteem, or rigid self-righteousness.
Personally, off the top of my head I can think of two near-enemies I've been caught by; one started out as my girlfriend at the time being affected by delving into an idealistic, world-is-a-dream, life-is-an-illusion kind of practice (whose near enemy/shadow might be complacency, amorality, and indifference). I only realize all this in retrospect, of course, but I can look back and see my self falling into the same shadow she had after at first having an aversion to, and then a dark attraction to the same practice, and then our relationship mutually falling apart [not because of that, I have to note, but that as a symptom of larger issues]. More personally, I've noted myself at times dependent upon insight meditation or desperate for an intuition before acting, and that has led to its own kind of paralyzation and addiction, in a sense.
The solution to avoiding these shadows is both internal and external, though I hesitate to attempt to speak to any, myself. In general terms, internally, as the Buddha and many others have said, one's self and common sense should be both the final authority and first place to start looking when watching for near enemies, and at the same time, a good teacher, guide, or friend is the external watchguard in a similar manner.
-
An interesting article on the idea of an open-heart, mixed with commentary on aikido and social work
Paraphrasing for the most part here, an insight meditation or Buddhist practice might lead towards a withdrawal from the world, and similarly Zen or Vedantic practices might find one feeling disconnected or ungrounded in their every day life. In a more physical way, someone focused entirely on hatha yoga might find themselves developing a perfection of body, and forgetting to develop their heart and mind. Or in a slightly different vein, a devotee of Kundalini yoga may become addicted to the physical-mental experiences characteristic of the practice, forgetting their meaning and significance (or even, lack thereof). And in a more widespread manner (re: say, organized religion), an overly moralistic practice may lead to either a reinforcement of low self-esteem, or rigid self-righteousness.
Personally, off the top of my head I can think of two near-enemies I've been caught by; one started out as my girlfriend at the time being affected by delving into an idealistic, world-is-a-dream, life-is-an-illusion kind of practice (whose near enemy/shadow might be complacency, amorality, and indifference). I only realize all this in retrospect, of course, but I can look back and see my self falling into the same shadow she had after at first having an aversion to, and then a dark attraction to the same practice, and then our relationship mutually falling apart [not because of that, I have to note, but that as a symptom of larger issues]. More personally, I've noted myself at times dependent upon insight meditation or desperate for an intuition before acting, and that has led to its own kind of paralyzation and addiction, in a sense.
The solution to avoiding these shadows is both internal and external, though I hesitate to attempt to speak to any, myself. In general terms, internally, as the Buddha and many others have said, one's self and common sense should be both the final authority and first place to start looking when watching for near enemies, and at the same time, a good teacher, guide, or friend is the external watchguard in a similar manner.
-
An interesting article on the idea of an open-heart, mixed with commentary on aikido and social work
Monday, March 19, 2007
Ishvara Pranidhana
This last of the niyamas is usually translated as "surrender to God," or more generally, surrender to divinity. It's an important distinction to make that yoga isn't usually a religion, per se, but rather a practice and philosophy, so in this sense while this niyama might be similar at first glance to, say, the Muslim principle of surrender, rather it is a principle that could just as well be developed by an athiest.
In that sense, one doesn't have to believe in some specific credo or deity, but can work with the concept of their Self as a unique being, and that being divine in a more secular sense. It helps in that regard that this niyama points to the more general yogic concept of universal connection, and surrendering to that. To be perfectly honest, ishvara pranidhana is one niyama that's been very challenging for me to develop. For example, I think the easiest way into understanding it is through that idea of personal divinity and universal connection, in turn - it's just, I've had trouble trusting, for lack of a better word. It helps to remember that this niyama is also tied into the important concept of not being attached to the outcomes of one's desires and actions, but it also doesn't help that that's also one of the trickiest concepts.
When I was younger, I felt I had a faith that I think was something similar to this, that I could rely on, almost. But...now, I think I'm working to regain that, somehow. From that memory, and from the texts, I believe this is one of the most important niyamas to develop - the trick is, putting it into action. Which is where this interesting quote by Goethe comes into play, in my mind, but again - there's that issue of trust and surrender.
An introduction to basic yoga philosophy
Sweet Solitude - on loneliness
In that sense, one doesn't have to believe in some specific credo or deity, but can work with the concept of their Self as a unique being, and that being divine in a more secular sense. It helps in that regard that this niyama points to the more general yogic concept of universal connection, and surrendering to that. To be perfectly honest, ishvara pranidhana is one niyama that's been very challenging for me to develop. For example, I think the easiest way into understanding it is through that idea of personal divinity and universal connection, in turn - it's just, I've had trouble trusting, for lack of a better word. It helps to remember that this niyama is also tied into the important concept of not being attached to the outcomes of one's desires and actions, but it also doesn't help that that's also one of the trickiest concepts.
When I was younger, I felt I had a faith that I think was something similar to this, that I could rely on, almost. But...now, I think I'm working to regain that, somehow. From that memory, and from the texts, I believe this is one of the most important niyamas to develop - the trick is, putting it into action. Which is where this interesting quote by Goethe comes into play, in my mind, but again - there's that issue of trust and surrender.
An introduction to basic yoga philosophy
Sweet Solitude - on loneliness
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
