The loss of our furry companions

Yoga teaches us, along with Buddhism, that death and life are interwoven.  That all things change and that, especially in Yogic philosophy, our atman, our eternal spirit will surpass all the impermanence of bodies and the world.

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve experienced a loss in a one-two punch fashion in the animal world.  My kittenish cat, Zane, passed away after 15 years of companionship.  Less than two weeks later, my matriarch cat, Persephone, breathed her last breath in my arms after being my devoted sidekick for 16 years. 

Though I knew with their old age and numerous vet visits, this was inevitable and both cats enjoyed long, fulfilled lives full of sunshine, treats, lots of love, and better health care than most people in the world get, it doesn’t make the grief any less severe.

Zane with Banjo, his sleeping buddy



With Zane, he came to a phase the last couple of days where his quality of life faded and I knew I was faced with the decision I didn’t want to make.  After watching my baby contort with seizures and meow in discomfort, I knew it was time.  As we got near the vet, his breathing slowed down to a minimum.  He became very calm and relaxed.  As the vet lay him on the table, he looked tired, but calm.  I kept saying, “Are we sure?”  But, I knew the answer.  Our Vet was 9 months pregnant, looking about to pop any second, and I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between her right hand, holding the small needle that would send Zane on to the next phase and her full, ripened belly, just on the brink of new birth and life.  Birth, life, death and rebirth – our cycle of samsara.

 

With Persy, the end was so different.  She was maintaining a good quality of life in the last few days despite her medical difficulties, but within just a few hours, her condition radically changed for the worse.  I had made a Vet appt to bring her in that morning, but she didn’t stay around that long.  And in some ways I was grateful for that.  A wise old gal, she went on her own terms, without a sterile room, flourescent lights or injections.   I had stayed up late into the night and spent the early hours of the morning with her, petting her, praying over her, holding her, telling her how much I loved her and what an amazing cat she had been.  She was fantastic, just the perfect cat, always so stoic, so calm, so behaved, so chill even right up until the end  She had always been a big girl her whole life (hence her nicknames of “tatanka” -  Lakota for buffalo, “fatty fatty two by four” and the simple, but fitting “Big Persy"). She was a survivor and a trooper.  But, now she was ready to go.

I held her in my arms and felt her breathing change to slow and intermitten gasps.  In her eyes, I could see whatever essence that was her was no longer there. Her eyes were glazed, cloudy and fixed.  Her lungs gasped in automatically, with no movement in the rest of her body.  I cried over her, praying and repeatedly asking, “Please take her in peace, don’t let her suffer.”  She exhaled another breath and a heavy quiet filled the room.  Everything became so quiet.  She was gone.

I immediately felt the tangible loss of her and the overwhelming grief flooded over me as I held her in arms.  Even though I knew it was coming, it still seemed to happen too fast.

For both cats, I had felt as long as they had quality of life and weren’t in pain, we would keep doing whatever we needed to do.  But, then that eventually ends and you’re either faced with a horrific decision or you watch them take their last breath.

Losing a pet as an adult is different than losing one as a child. Persy had been with me since the day I turned 18.   Zane since I was 19.  They’ve been through all facets of my adult life, witnesses to all the phases, boyfriends, moves, journeys, heartbreaks, celebrations, sorrows, life as I know it.  And now, they’re gone.

Is this why we have religion? To explain, “Where did they go?” Through the searing grief and loss and guilt, religion offers ritual and explanation in a time of irrational grief and overwhelming emotion.   Whether human or animal, loss is ripping, unexplained and mysterious.  I draw on my Buddhism – the impermanence of everything, the constant flux, the mindfulness and meaning of being in the moment.  I draw on my Yoga – that the atman, the spirit, will go on in some way, that energy is neither created nor destroyed.  I even tried not to feel completely cynical and dismissive when the vet offered a syrupy sugar promise of “cat heaven” where  Zane could “chase butterflies and mice.”  Something, as an indoor cat, he never did in life.

But, even through burying Zane under my favorite huge magic tree in the backyard and scattering Persy’s ashes throughout the flower garden, her favorite places to sit in the sunshine, I still do not feel satisfied with any answers. Nothing comforts.  Three years ago, when I lost my good (human) friend, Alex, I had felt the same way.  Where did she go?  Had I not just seen her a few days earlier when we watched The Color Purple together?  Where was that snarky, Sedaris-esque commentary now?  Was she in the wind, in the October nights when she died (what is it with October and death?), in the theatre where she had graced the stage continually?

And now, I wonder the same thing even about my precious kitties.  Where did these unique souls go?  The kitten who once pounced on patches of light, who “made biscuits” on each of the other animals, who let the dog pin him down in numerous wrestling moves as a fun game?  Where did the kitty with the softest belly in the world run to?   How about the matriarch who grunted instead of meowing, who took every new animal under her wing and bathed it mercilessly, who as a cat never once peed outside the litterbox (even until the end) yet had jumped up, squatted and peed square on a really, really bad guy (seeing even before I did how bad he was indeed), who lived with such dignity and died with it as well.

For both cats, as I held them during their last hours, I chanted repeatedly the chant I say everyday after my yoga practice:

Asato Mat Sam Gamaya

Tamaso Mat Jyotir Gamaya

Myritor Maamrhitab Gamaya

It translates as:

Lead us from the unreal (illusion) to the real (understanding)

Lead us from the darkness of ignorance to the light of wisdom

Lead us from our fear of death to ultimate knowledge of immortality and our infinite spirit.

Funny how you can say something repeatedly, without even thinking about it - as I had done many times throughout the years with this chant - it was just part of my practice.  Mostly I just liked the way it sounded - it's a beautiful chant.  Now, it took on a whole new meaning as I whispered it over my babies, whispered it with each breath they took in and out, whispered it for myself as much as for them.

Spirituality seems to come easy when things are well, when things feel balanced and right in the world.  But, death is a dirty bastard.  And no matter how much I practice, no matter how much I attempt to walk a spiritual path, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go of anyone I love, whether it be animal or human, peacefully and easily.   No matter how much explanation, spiritual counsel, Buddhist notions of impermanence, Christian promises of heaven, and condolences, it just f-ing hurts.  It's unfair.  It makes me feel angry and helpless.  Accepting death doesn’t change any of that for me.

The dance continues though as life goes on…and in every moment I spend with my loved ones, both furry and human, I will try to be mindful, to give as much love as I can, to not waste a single minute. The Dalai Lama says that the one thing that unites us as humans is our suffering, loss and grief. If this kind of appreciation of life and unity among people is what death reminds us of, maybe there is a purpose to it after all.    I sure hope so…

I will miss you every single day.

Shiva Rea's Yoga Trance Dance - Part Four (Air)

"Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free." - Rumi (Sufi Poet)

Shiva had asked when we had lost our dance in our lives.  There have been plenty of times I've lost my dance or at least, forgot about it for a little while.  But, it has always come back, always pulsating back into my life.  Like yoga, it doesn't hold grudges when you've ignored or abandoned it.  It welcomes you back with open, vibrating, energetic arms.

Shiva asked who came for their "own joy" and who came to get teacher training.  Initially, I came purely just to experience trance dance in person.  However, once here, in this experience, it was all I could think about - teaching this kind of yoga.   This was the kind of yoga I wanted to teach. A fluid, flowing, dynamic yoga that calls women to let go, be at home in their bodies, connect with all of who they are, good and bad, pulsating and underlying - this is a powerful yoga indeed.  It just felt so natural, like it was coming into my life at the perfect time.

One of the complaints I've heard about Shiva's training is that you leave not really knowing what to teach because there's not a lot of structure.  The academic in me, who wants notes and detailed instructions understands this feeling, but I really believe Shiva does so much more for us as a teacher by giving us the experience of yoga.  She often says she doesn't "do" yoga, but "is" yoga.  It isn't something you do, it's something you are.  This weekend, by putting away the notebooks and workbooks and just dancing, just feeling, just moving, it connected me to so much about myself I had forgotten.  It connected me to emotions I had been pushing down deep inside (and boy, they erupted like a lovely, angry volcano).  More than anything, it connected me to a strength and empowerment I knew was underlying it all.

Trance Dance, as funny as it sounds, is more than meets the eye.  It's more than just yoga.  It's more than just dance.  It's energy work.  It's a mindset.  It's our daily groove.  It's a lifestyle.  It's our sadhana - our spiritual practice.

After our last morning's prana practice - a challenging, yet healing asana section in Shiva's distinctive vinyasa/prana style, I was absolutely exhausted.  I felt like a rag that had been rung out completely.  Physically, mentally, emotionally, I was just spent.  But, spiritually, I felt more energized and alive than I had ever felt.  I could barely put words together, I was so high on the way this weekend had transformed me.  Moreover, I was feeling more positive than ever about situations in my life that I had no control over, situations that had haunted me for a long time.  I had spent so much time feeling helpless, but now I was seeing it differently.

Hindus believe that chaos only exists in your perception of it, that everything is actually exactly as it's supposed to be, in order, in our divine world.  Everything else is just maya (illusion).  I can't control things in my life, others in my life, or their actions.  But, I can work each day to be the best person I can be and love unconditionally.  I can be mindful every single day to live my sadhana, to put out compassion, good works and love.  I'm not perfect and sometimes I may not be as good at this as others, but I will keep attempting it every single day.

Serendipitously, in reading some of Swami Kripalu's satsangs (talks), I came across the following gems:

"To love is to suffer.  One who cannot tolerate pain cannot travel the path of true love.  Love's practice is anything but sentimental."

"The first place to have compassion is not (on your yoga mat), but is with your family and loved ones."

"To remain open in love in difficult times is an experiment in love in and of itself."

"Spirituality is not merely within books or temples or churches, but is within our own homes."

"Those who want to plant the seed of love in their heart will have to nourish it with the water of patience.  Impatience can be the cause of the destruction of love.  If we are not patient with our loved ones, then how can they be patient with us?"

Thanks, yo. I am picking up what you're laying down, Swami Kripalu. You are one jive turkey. 

Shiva told us, "Don't ever lose your dance."  After this weekend, now, that it's a part of me again, I'm going to be mindful to keep dancing in all meanings of the word.  Every single day.

Question:  What does dance mean to you in your life?  What makes you dance?

Shiva Rea's Yoga Trance Dance - Part Three (Fire)

Kripalu Chapel

"Consider a day without dance as a day that has not been fully lived." - Nietzsche

Kripalu is a strange and interesting place.  I love the cloistered spiritual schedule, filled with classes, meditations and workshops throughout the day and being able to retreat to my tiny monk's quarters at night.  Though the downside of Kripalu is well...frankly, the attendees.  The average age here looks to be about early to mid 20s and the traditional "code of silence" that used to be in place during the early Ashram days at mealtimes and in between classes has obviously been lifted.  Trendy twenty somethings gab loudly on their cell phones, chat about their yoga gear and NY in the hallways, squealing and screaming upon greeting each other. On the outdoor patio, with a breathtaking view of the mountains and lake, I actually ended up moving my seat after 15 minutes straight of exclusive gossip from the girl next to me on her boyfriend's sex habits and pot growing "business" that he runs in his basement.    Yes, it is very different here than at the Integral Ashram.   But, I try not to let myself feel so ancient next to the younger generation in their fashionably expensive yoga clothes and shake off any annoyance to focus on what I'm here for.

One of the aspects I love about Kripalu is that its hallways are filled with decorative, giant plaques with inspirational sayings.  Several, as expected, are from the Yoga Sutras, "Yoga is seeing reality as it truly is" and the Bhagavad Gita, "Better to live your own dharma (path) imperfectly than live someone else's life perfectly" (one of my favorites).   But, I was pleased to see other sources of inspiration, including Emerson ("Life is a series of experiments") and one that really got me, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle," from none other than Plato.  So, if nothing else, no matter what you are confronted with inspiration every time you walk up and down the stairs.

When I woke up Saturday morning after the previous night's ecstastic experience, I felt like a truck had ran over me. Nauseus, exhausted, anxious and in an arresting state of melancholy, I forced myself to roll out of bed for the 6:30 a.m. wakeup session, which did turn out to be a lovely awakening of chanting, unjulations, hip openers, fluid movements and cleansings - a lot of prana style yoga.   After breakfast, Shiva gave a power point presentation, which seemed strangely out of place with the body flow of our workshop, but the academic in me was grateful, pulling up a mat, my notebook and glasses, ready to listen intently and take notes like the nerd I was.  She went over a brief synopsis of places in the world where dance is still illegal and how humans have a long ancestral history of dancing (firekeeping, ancient Greece, tribal traditions, etc.)  She spoke of the subjects I talk about in my 135 course, about all the bannings during the middle Ages, and how dance was even punishable by death.  Something I hadn't known, but wasn't surprised by was that Constantine himself banned dance as "the devil's work."  For the most part, dance was either banned altogether or only allowed during religious holidays (or one very interesting fact, that after the black plague, the dance macabre became acceptable only because it was seen as a way to exorcise the devil).  She spoke of the oppression of slave dance because of fear of uprising and how Indian devadasi temple dance was banned by the British.  The results of all this oppression was, according to Shiva, a "physical, spiritual, emotional constipation."

She also mentioned the interesting fact that the saying, "Let your hair down" comes from dance.  Because traditionally dancers always had long, loose hair during tribal dance. The tied back, prim buns were actually partially to prevent any spontaneous and uncontrollable dance moves from bursting out of the corsetted seams (because you wouldn't dance with your hair bunched up).  I actually really enjoyed this academic part of our workshop as it grounded what we were doing even more.  We weren't just jumping and leaping around a room like crazy people (were we?).  No...we were reigniting lost art, lost voices, dancing for all those that couldn't, can't or won't in the history of humanity.  We were tapping into the Rasa (juice of life) and connecting with that underlying pulse of life we call divine energy.  This kind of free form dance is called Sahaja, closely related, our sadhana or spiritual practice.

In the afternoon, Shiva took us up a short walking path to the woods.  She had us pick a spot to meditate on the woods themselves, the way the trees swayed, the natural movement in nature.  She seemed utterly delighted by this exercise and said, "We don't have this in Malibu."  She told us to write in our journals, to think about times in our life when we have "lost our dance."  She said were were there on the holiday, Guru Purnima (celebration of our teachers) and so, she said we could also write about our teachers.  At any other time, this would have been the absolute perfect combination for me (being out in the woods and writing - I mean, it's as if this was custom made just for me!). But, I didn't want to write or be out in the woods at all.  I didn't want to do anything. I felt irritated, angry and frustrated.  All morning, I had felt sick to my stomach, really sad and melancholy, just "off."  Now, this was transforming into a fiery ball of irritation, so tangible and much like a really intensified version of PMS, but on a more acute level.  I didn't understand.  Why was I feeling so much irritation right now?  I kept telling myself, "You're in a place of spiritual power.  You're doing a training on spiritual empowerment and healing.  You're with Shiva Rea!  Knock it off.  Stop being so angry."  But, nothing worked. The anger kept rolling over in me like a red, hot rotisserie and with each turn, grew more and more uncontrollable. 

Looking around at all the serene faces in my group sitting happily and blissfully in lotus under the swaying trees made me burn even more with irrational anger.  The searing frustration grew stronger and stronger and soon, I was so angry tears welled up in my eyes.  Here we go again, I thought.  Why was I crying so damn much here?  Soon, the anger came into focus and I felt an overwhelming flood of emotions towards a certain situation in my life that had been dominating my soul for months, feelings of absolute helplessness, betrayal, loss of trust, mental and emotional exhaustion, worry, anxiety, resentment, heaviness, depression, sadness...just overwhelming SAD-NESS, then numbness, and then searing fury as an inside voice screaming, "Why?  Why does it have to be like this?" Why did I feel as if I was constantly fighting for a cause but it never seemed to be enough?  Why did it feel like I was always fighting for a happiness and love that was just out of my reach, just within my fingertips, but never quite close enough?

This fiery funk lasted throughout the afternoon, through another "shaker" session where I'm sure I shook my eggs with the frowny look of a gradeschooler forced to sit in the corner.  I hated everyone and everything.  I felt powerless.  

After dinner (I had to admit, it was hard to stay angry with food this good), I felt a little better, a little more myself.  We met the musicians who would be performing that evening.  We listened to each demonstrate their beautiful instrument and it was an honor to have that experience in an intimate setting, before the doors opened to the entire Kripalu population.  Tonight, Shiva was hosting a Trance Dance open to all.  As crowds and crowds of people (I think the entire population of Kripalu) poured through the "OM" doors, the once quiet chapel took on the ambiance of a New York hot spot.  With no room for floor work, Shiva had the entire crowd stand together close, with palms of our hands on the person in front of us and chant "OM" for about ten minutes.  It was surprisingly moving.  So many people, literally hundreds, all connected, all chanting the same OM.  It was the largest collective OM I had ever participated in and felt my resistance and irritation give and melt away a bit.

After an interesting performance of tattooed men with staffs (a very ritualized, very phallic, very tribal dance), the lights turned low and the live music heated up as Shiva stirred us into the "fire" aspect of the dance pretty quickly.  Soon, we were jumping and dancing around like mad people (or Saturday regulars at a local trance club).  I moved to the rhythms and next to me, a small gay fellow covered in glitter danced like he was at Queer as Folks' Babylon - I had to love it.  It was definitely a different energy with so many people here tonight than it had been the night before, but I still let myself go, let my body move in every inch.  The live Indian music really had an affect and at one point in the night, even the musicians took turns jumping out and trance dancing it out.  

Then, when the musicians were really hitting it hard and everything was at a peak intensity, Shiva hopped up on the stage right in front of me, literally a few inches from me and in the "blue flame" of the fire, as she describes it, we danced and moved and grooved and I couldn't take my eyes off her, she was so shamanic and fluid and just...happy.  In the moment. I closed my eyes and smiled.  I couldn't stop smiling.  Then, I couldn't believe it, I opened my eyes and Shiva was looking right at me as she shot me the most serene, beatific smile I have ever seen on a human face.   Yeah, I thought.  There it is. Any anger or frustation seemed planets away now, as a I danced it out and let it all melt away through my fingertips, through the ends of my crazy, flying hair (not pulled back in a bun!), and through the soles of my feet.  There was nothing left but to smile.

Shiva soon wound us down (I was impressed with how she handled such a huge crowd.  It would have been easy for it to get out of hand, wild with spontaneity, but she always kept the flow structured and stayed in control) and seamlessly we were led into a traditional Kirtan (devotional singing) one of my favorite aspects of Indian spirituality.  As hundreds of people crowded around this chapel to chant Hare Krishna, Hare Rama and Om Namah Shivaya, my eyes fixated once again on the Shiva Nataraj statute, lit up with disco lights, his leg kicking up as he dances on the demons of ignorance, greed and ego, as he brings both destruction and creation.  This chapel had once housed devout, quiet, solemn Jesuits as they prayed towards the crucifix that once stood here.  I thought, Hinduism in America.  What a blessing.  What a clever absurdity.  What a riot.  God definitely has a sense of humor.

To be continued...

Shiva Rea's Yoga Trance Dance - Part Two (Water)

"The energy that holds up the mountains is the energy I bow down to." - Sufi Master

As we walked in the same chapel I had taken the gentle yoga class in earlier, the atmosphere was completely transformed.  Dimly lit with flickering candles, a small altar cloth with a black, four headed Shiva Lingam (that looked identical to the ones I had seen in temples in Rishikesh) had been placed in the center of the room.  She was already sitting in front of it and as we gathered around her in a circle, I was thrilled to end up sitting just a couple of feet from her.  She passed around shaker eggs and had us sway our bodies as we got into a rhythm with the eggs.  The sounds of the "sshh...ssshhh...ssshhh" motion, the tribal music playing and her soothing voice filled the room with an intoxicating combination.  Soon, eyes were closed, bodies were swaying and everything just kind of melted away. 

Shiva spoke of being an infant, how as a child we are born to dance, born to move, born to tap into this primordial creative energy (Shakti).  Then she had us put our shakers up to our ears, they sounded crisp and loud that closely. Then she instructed us to change rhythms with the eggs, but even as we did, she noted that we were still all in sync, the chaos was still order.  This is a principle of Hindu philosophy that I have been teaching for over a decade in my Eastern class, but I loved this tangible way of explanation and noted to start utilizing this way of showing it in my classes.

Soon we were up off the floor, but still moving slowly, with the heavy, intense tribal drumming seeming louder and louder.  She instructed us to begin moving around the space, around each other, focusing just on our arms, our hips, our legs, letting different body parts emphasize the rhythm and movement.  Then, she had us do this interesting "bow and arrow" type movement that reminded me of the infamous Hulk Hogan pose in the 80s where he'd stretch one arm out and bend the other elbow to bring his hand to his ear.  This memory, of course, made me love this particular movement. Like most Trance Dance or Kundalini moves, she instructed to bring our arms back and out quickly, with more vigor.  Then, we did the pulled the energy out and down, quickly with a series of syncronized arm pulls...hard to describe, but extremely invigorating and exhilerating. The music got more intense and everyone just sort of let go.

From here on, everything got a bit blurry in structure.  The academic in me was forced to take a back seat to the experience at hand and I happily pushed my note taking self aside to make room on the dance floor.   After minutes, seconds, hours...I don't know if anyone was quite sure, we experienced the "collective flow" advertised with the Trance Dance experience. I don't know what any one else felt, but I couldn't believe what I was feeling.  The combined travel exhaustion, exhileration of being here and my pure, passionate love of movement and yoga had united to produce a quite altered mindstate.  I started feeling a tingling sensation throughout my extended arms, my leaping legs, my swaying hips...a natural energy high fueled by every one else's movements in that space, the tribal drums, the rhythmic Indian citar and all the energy work we had done to lead up to this.   Pretty soon we were all leaping around and lost in our own body/mind worlds.  Moving as a part of each other's space, but at the same time, in our own experience while Shiva uttered gems like, "Think of your ancestors moving across continents, dancing in the night." 

Then, completely unexpectedly, I was filled with this shudder.  Now, I have had plenty of great times dancing, feelings of release and ecstastic flow, whether it was in my living room, at clubs or at wedding receptions, I have felt that rush of dancing to amazing rhythms all night.  But, this rush was different.  Stronger.  My eyes didn't just fill with tears, but instantly started overflowing with them and I involuntarily started bawling like a little kid.  Like a dam breaking, something in me just lost it and I was overcome with intense emotion.  I tried to refocus, but no matter what, I couldn't stop crying.  Then, I was hit with another strong sensation of complete release, a feeling not unlike what I experienced when skydiving a few years ago.  Total spiritual surrender.  A feeling of "everything is going to be alright" came over me in a strong crashing ocean wave.

I kept dancing. I kept moving no matter what.  Moved through the waves, through the floodgates, through the surrender.  And then I opened my eyes and saw Shiva's slender, white clad figure moving in this almost Shamanic way right next to me (I know this sounds hippy dippy, but I don't know how else to describe it - her bending, forming, tribal curving, concocting, conjuring series of interwoven movements blended with the tribal drums). We danced in the same space and I had one of those moments you have in life, that moment of simple bliss of knowing you are exactly where you are supposed to be in that moment and then she smiled at me and I smiled back. 

The tears still wouldn't stop.  Even when Shiva instructed us to do the Tandava (cross over Nataraj kick) and even when everyone got in a big circle and pulled all the energy back down.  The tears just kept rolling.  She brought us down to the floor in Savasana and in 18 years of doing yoga, never has this pose felt more needed, appropriate or sacred to me than in that experience, in that moment right then.  I sprawled onto the floor in a heap the way my dog often just flops her body down in a pile in the sun as if her legs and arms gave out from under her suddenly. I lay there as the music continued, and couldn't take my eyes off the Nataraj (dancing Shiva) statue on the altar at the front of the chapel.  I had seen it all day, but now it caused a completely different feeling in me.  I was overwhelmed with feelings of empowerment, release, clarity, and ineffable spiritual connection with something pulsing beneath the surface of it all.

It was hard to come back to the surface itself, but slowly, Shiva's voice called us back.  And then she began quietly talking about yogic/dance principles and preparing us for the next day.  I was sort of half paying attention, my mind still sloshy from the ecstatic energy and my eyes still all full of tears, when I heard her say, just like any other word and not in any particularly defining way, "Fuck."  I perked up, then she added in her soft, velvety voice, "you know, sometimes you need to balance out your purity. I have Irish ancestors.  It's okay."  Smiling, this of course, made me love her even more.  A spiritual guru who says Fuck and credits the ancestors?  Couldn't love it more if I tried.   Then she told us to not eat too much so we don't "have a Kripalu fart baby."  Is it weird that even saying this, she still sounded like a wise spiritual sage?  It's true.  She totally did.  I can only dream of saying things like "fuck" and "fart" and still sounding wise and beatific - it's a new goal for me for sure, especially in my profession.

I went to bed ecstatic and unable to fall asleep because of how buzzed up and mojofied I was.  I figured the whole weekend would be full of this feeling of having my finger on the pulse of God and I couldn't wait to ride the wave.  But, of course, I would be naive to think that kind of experience would be so easy to hold on to.  Ecstasy doesn't ride alone.  Too many other emotions get brought up in that spiritual scoop.

To be continued...

Shiva Rea's Yoga Trance Dance - Part One (Earth)

"All the world's problems can be solved by dance." - James Brown

Talk about a transformative experience!  I've been doing Shiva Rea's DVDs for a couple of years now, first with her Shakti one, then Radiant Heart, then Flow, then Lunar, then Daily Energy, and then...well, a bunch more.  I came across a title, "Yoga Trance Dance."  Now this sounds interesting, I thought.  I ordered it, at first feeling a little silly dancing across my living room to a DVD of a group of dancing SoCal free spirits, but soon, the music and dance and Shiva herself just get you and you don't give a shit.  Like Shiva says in the video, her head moving with the rhythm and her beatific smile across her face, "Those who dance are seen to be crazy by those who do not hear the drums." 

I knew I had to experience this mixture of yoga and dance movement first hand and luckily, Shiva Rea offers a teacher training in this very style.  So, last weekend, I drove the 15 hours through traffic, construction and rainstorms to Kripalu, near Lenox, Massachusettes.  I arrived weary and exhausted in the middle of a downpour not unlike the first monsoon ten years ago when I arrived to the Integral Yoga Ashram in Virginia for my teacher training.  This time, luckily, I did not have to put up a tent in the rain, but I did have to traverse uphill winding mountain roads that were gushing with flood waters.  About 20 anxiety ridden minutes later and several turn arounds, I finally found Kripalu (my one suggestion to them - a bigger sign!).

I had expected Kripalu to be somewhat like the Ashram in Virginia, but upon walking in, I realized quickly this was a much larger operation.  Greeters, secretaries and yogis running about, pamphlets, sign ins, and  SO many people.  Crowds and crowds of people, many more than I expected.  I signed in, unpacked my car and settled into my tiny little room that reminded me of a monk's quarters (fitting since I found out later that Kripalu used to be a Jesuit monastary).

There was just enough time to attend one of Kripalu's many daily yoga classes before dinner.  I slipped into the Gentle Yoga class, feeling too exhausted after the travel for anything more demanding.  It was a great choice, housed in an enormous room with tall cathedral ceilings.  In fact, this used to be the Jesuit chapel.  Now it had stained glass "OM's" on the doors and the dancing Nataraj Shiva at the altar where Christ used to be, which as a Religion teacher, made me smile a bit.  There must have been over fifty people in this class and I barely had enough room to roll my mat out at the back.  Aside from Bikram yoga, it was the largest class I had ever attended.  Soon, my body released into the restorative poses and I noted the loose movement and instructional emphasis Kripalu classes had.  After many slow leg stretches, side stretches and child's poses, we ended with a surprisingly nice movement of planting our feet and hopping up and down as a cleansing.  I could feel all the stress, anxiety and exhaustion from travel just melting away through my feet and was so thankful that I arrived early enough for this transition to the weekend training. 

Expecting the usual Ashram vegetarian fare of tofu and rice, I was blown away by Kripalu's food offerings.  I walked in to a huge hall that had two buffets spread out.  Everything is grown organically and locally and so I piled my plate with salads, tomatoes, curry drizzled salmon, fruits and drank this organic, hormone free milk from Jersey that was indeed the best milk I have ever tasted in my life.  So good, I wanted to give a little Jersey fist pump right there for its splendid existence.

And now, transitioned and fed, it was time to do what we came here for.  Around 7:30, those of us in the training program gathered around the "OM" doors to wait for our first session.  The excitement and buzz was tangible. Several girls were covering themselves in glitter.  Oh boy...I wondered how many were going to be ga ga for Shiva Rea (she has quite the fan base and some fans are fantatic for her in a Guru/Grateful Dead sort of way).  I tried to stay detached and calm, but I had to admit after using her DVDs for so long, I was a little giddy to meet her too.  However, after my Rodney Yee experience, I tried not to get my expectations up too high.  It's far too easy for your idols to fall.

Then, I felt this pull to my left.  My eyes looked in that direction and coming towards me was a tall woman dressed in all white with a white, embroidered sash around her waist.  Her blonde, platinum hair was cut in bangs - very surfer girl - and she was pointing and talking with one of her assistants.  She turned and looked right into my eyes and I think she must have seen my bag (a local artist's creation - "Om land Security") because she looked down, then looked back at me and smiled, patting her heart with her left hand.  I wasn't sure what that meant or if it was even me she was looking at for sure, but damned if my neutrality went right out the window.  In that one moment, I immediately felt myself beam and become all googly eyed.  I was "Shiva-fied."  I immediately realized she was someone whose simple presence in a room makes heads turn and I couldn't wait to see what she had in store for us tonight. I had a feeling it would be intense, whatever it was and I was right.

To be continued...

Yoga at 40,000 feet

Arno River, Florence, Italy

It's been a tough quarter, writing and any other creative indulgences have taken a backburner to all the other projects, committments and classes.  But yoga doesn't hold grudges and Buddha teaches nonattachment, so here we go. 

There is too much to write about regarding the experince of Italy- the kindness of the Italians, the beauty of the art and architecture, the decadence of the culinary delights, the nuns (still wearing habits), hearing Italian Rolling Stones cover bands, watching light filter through the clouds over the Arno river while the orange and red blended harmoniously into shades of burgundy and blue, the powerful church bells ringing in the evening...the Catholic Church's "OM."

There's too much to begin to capture...that hasn't already been captured...about Italy.  So instead, I'll just focus on one moment.  On the long plane ride home, I was stretching in the back, doing a few adapted poses in the cramped space while waiting for the tiny airplane bathroom to open up.  One of the flight attendants, a very tall man who I instantly figured as one of Kathy Griffin's gays, rolled his beverage cart back behind me.  His face lit up and he smiled a huge grin, "Hey, I'll do yoga with you!"  And the next thing I knew, we were standing together in tree pose, nearly 40,000 feet in the air, mirroring each other in balance, our hands in namaste.  Taken out of our roles, his as distributor of packaged pretzels, carefully poured beverages and tiny, compact dinners (how do they get them so tiny?), and mine as a needy, exhausted passenger, we were now nothing but two yogis, balancing together, smiling at each other, with a backdrop of billowing clouds passing through the small window through the triangle of his left leg. 

"Yoga has changed my life," he said to me.  I nodded.  There were so many ways I could say, "Indeed my friend" - experiences I could give, stories I could tell, but I nodded with a smile to convey all of it, and kept balancing without saying a word.   The definition of yoga is "union" or "to yoke" - a system to connect our minds and bodies, or on a more spiritual level, our spirit to God (Atman to Brahman in Hindu Sanskrit).  Here, it connected an Air France attendant and myself, grounded by our tree in the clouds, each of us mirroring not only a pose, but our convinction and connection. 

Arrividerci!

After much saving, planning and research, I am excited to say that my cousin and I will be leaving on a plane for Italy this week!  I am beyond excited and can't wait to take my journal and camera and just be a sponge, soaking in and marveling the sights, smells, sounds and tastes around me.  

In addition to my journal and camera, I'll need to pack a few other things, which led me to one of my first thoughts while packing, "Will I do yoga in Italy?"  I immediately thought to Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love, who while an avid yoga, said the whole time she was in Rome (four months), she never even rolled out her mat.  She said Rome and yoga just didn't go together.   In reading her experiences of pure pleasure and guilt-free gluttony, I could see her point.  Maybe they just didn't mix.

I'm packing very light, just one carry-on, so I debated quite a bit over whether or not to pack a travel mat for doing yoga.  I had to ask myself, would I really do yoga every day like I do here when I'm traveling all over Italy, tired and worn out?  At first, I thought no, it's a vacation, leave the mat at home, you'll get enough exercise with walking.

But, then, yoga isn't just exercise.  It's my center, my grounding.  And I've come to look forward to my practice each day, I've worked hard to maintain this consistent practice over the last couple of years, no matter what.  Perhaps I shouldn't stop just because I'm in another country and on a "vacation."

Will I do yoga on a hotel room floor in Florence, on a balcony in Rome, outside the monastery of Assisi?  The last one may be a stretch and get me some weird looks from the Franciscan monks, but the other two I can picture. Though it's something extra to carry, I think the mat is worth packing, even if it's just 5-10 minutes a day to stretch, center and unwind after jetlag, travel, walking miles and miles every day, the general exhaustion of travel and let's face it - all that divine pasta!

So, the decision is made.  My new trusty travel mat is in my backpack along with my other necessities and I'm ready to experience Italy in all its glory and nature.  Taking yoga out of the norm and into different settings while traveling has always been an interesting endeavor in opening up my perspective (and has resulted in some of my favorite yoga experiences I've ever had), so I hope this will be no exception and that I will be able to bring back some good Italian yoga stories to share in two weeks.   Until then, ciao!

A Day Away

A Day Away, Jaco Beach, Costa Rica

Maya Angelou wrote that we all need A Day Away, especially women, since we so often put others' needs before our own.  The Jewish tradition celebrates shabbis, one day of the week that is a temple in time, a time when everything outside is let go and your attention is brought to the center of your life, or the holy "f" trinity - family, friends and FOOD! :)   From sunset Friday to sunset Saturday, you focus your attention away from outside distractions and celebrate a family dinner, say prayers, sing songs, and give thanks to God.   Orthodox Jews take the rules of shabbis very strictly and won't cook, turn on lights or drive on this day, truly following the "no labor" laws.

Most of us don't have the need or determination to take it as old school as the Orthodox, but there's something about this day away that is a great idea for everyone, no matter what belief or religious affiliation.  But, for some reason, most of us have a hard time with this, even though it is a commandment in the biblical tradition.  We are "too busy" and have too many committments.  We have to work on Sundays, keep engagements, catch up with things that we didn't have time to during the week, etc.

Several years ago, during graduate school, I decided to make Saturdays my "free day."  For this one day, from morning until night, I turned off the phone, put away my school books and work responsibilities and didn't check my email at all.  I did things I wanted to do, like yoga, going out to eat, taking a hike or walk, watching a good movie, etc. Basically, I allowed myself to get "out of my head" and into the world, which is an easy thing to forget about when you're in grad school.  I've kept this tradition for the most part ever since.

Each weekend, I try to allow at least a few hours of "alone" time, either on a Saturday or Sunday, in which I do a longer session of yoga (45 minutes to an hour) than I usually have time for during the week.  I put on some chill music, like Stan Getz or Stacey Kent, read a magazine or book, watch a great film that only I have been wanting to see, take a nap, etc.  I don't answer the phone (and put it on mute).  I don't check facebook or email.  I don't grade or do schoolwork, though several years later, I still fight the guilt not to "get a head start" on things for the week or "catch up" on things.   Instead, I tell myself, "those things will get done during the work week.  Right now is quiet time."   An entire day is ideal.  But even if it's only for a couple of hours, take this day away.

Let go of the guilt.  Because the fact is, without some alone time, some quiet time to ourselves each week to recharge our batteries, we will end up overworked, stressed out and resentful, and not giving 100% of what we could if we were rested and recharged.  Think of it as quality vs quantity.

And just remember, according to biblical tradition, even the divine herself took a day to rest after her busy week!

Here is an excerpt of Maya Angelou's "A Day Away" to meditate on this week.  Picture Maya's beautiful face and deep voice telling you, "Child, take a break already."  How can you say no to Maya? :)

"On the eve of my day of absence, I begin to unwrap the bonds which hold me in harness. I inform housemates, my family and close friends that I will not be reachable for twenty-four hours; then I disengage the telephone. I turn the radio dial to an all-music station, preferably one which plays the soothing golden oldies. I sit for at least an hour in a very hot tub; then I lay out my clothes in preparation for my morning escape, and knowing that nothing will disturb me, I sleep the sleep of the just.

On the morning I wake naturally, for I will have set no clock, nor informed my body timepiece when it should alarm. I dress in comfortable shoes and casual clothes and leave my house going no place. If I am living in a city, I wander streets, window-shop, or gaze at buildings. I enter and leave public parks, libraries, the lobbies of skyscrapers, and movie houses. I stay in no place for very long.

On the getaway day I try for amnesia. I do not want to know my name, where I live, or how many dire responsibilities rest on my shoulders. I detest encountering even the closest friend, for then I am reminded of who I am, and the circumstances of my life, which I want to forget for a while.

Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future. Jobs, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence.

Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for.

Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us. We need hours of aimless wandering or spaces of time sitting on park benches, observing the mysterious world of ants and the canopy of treetops.

If we step away for a time, we are not, as many may think and some will accuse, being irresponsible, but rather we are preparing ourselves to more ably perform our duties and discharge our obligations."

Question for the week:  What is something you do (or not do) during your "day away"?

Stress

This just about sums it up

I get stressed.  I get overwhelmed.  I commit to too many things.  I have a neurotic tendency to not just want, but need to do everything at 150%.   I find myself carrying the weight of others' burdens.  Not because they ask, but because as an emotional inclined person, I find myself affected when loved ones are suffering.

At the same time, I try to be a Yogi every single day.  Even with practicing yoga, I get angry.  I get emotional.  I get aggravated.  And mostly it is due to stress.   How do we manage our stress?  How do we maintain the calmness and tranquility we feel in our practice?  Each day, I try to find anywhere from 20-45 minutes to roll out my mat, breathe, stretch and have a feeling of peace and calmness during my practice.  But, then how do we maintain this and bring it into the world?   How do we remain Stoic ("calm under all circumstances") when life overwhelmes us and gives us a great burden?

This week has got me thinking about this. The past few weeks have been stressful for a number of reasons and this week, serendipitously, I'm teaching about the subjects of Buddhism and Stoicism in different classes, both which advocate a certain amount of detachment to the ebbs and flows of life.

This has always appealed to me - a certain amount of detachment, or the "it won't really matter" philosophy when unpleasant things happen or unexpected stresses come my way.   Yet, as a very emotionally based, intuitive, open, "feel things" kind of person, I find it an interesting balance to achieve.  How do you stay detached and calm without becoming apathetic or numb?  How do you stay connected and empathetic without becoming emotionally spent all the time?

Buddhists say to follow the Eightfold Path.  Yogis say to practice the Eight Limbs.  Christians, Hindus, Muslims all have other advice (which come to think of it, usually involve some number - the 10 commandments, the 5 Pillars, etc.)    This week, I realized that at its most simple foundation, having an authentic connection and conversation with someone is one way to walk this line, a way to reconnect with ourselves in times of stress and feeling like we can't handle any more.    To have an authentic exchange, to share and to have someone say, "I know exactly how you feel" and mean it was enough to let my shoulders down this week.  It was a reminder that I can live through these stresses and burdens, and that I can hopefully learn something and grow through them which will make me a stronger, calmer yogi.

Yoga is not just about stretching, balancing or looking tranquil.  It is about living life, the good and bad, the storms and the calm, encountering the quiet peaceful people and the aggressive hostile ones in our lives, but all the while remaining who we are, remaining authentically grounded.   But we are humans after all, and sometimes it is harder than others.    :)

5 Suggestions for Alleving Stress

1)Make yourself some "me" time.  After you get a certain amount of work and necessary obligations filled, take an hour to spend with yourself, doing what YOU want to do, whether that's taking a bath, watching a film, reading a book, taking a nap or stretching out onto your yoga mat.

2)Get and try to stay organized.  This is preventative medicine and can save a lot of time and hassle in your daily life.  Make lists for things.  Check them off as you do them.  This eliminates anxiety over what needs to be done and if you're forgetting anything and also gives a sense of satisfaction as you check each item off.

3) Turn off your phone for a few hours.  Or at least don't feel like you have to answer every time the phone rings.  You can call them back later.  Do the same with email, facebook, etc.  The world will be okay if you don't check your facebook today.

4)  Learn to say "no."  Say a "healthy no" to committments when you have too much on your plate or need some recharge time.   Let go of the guilt.  The world will be okay if you take a break.

5)  Get frisky with your partner.  Aside from feeling fantastic and being a great way to connect with your other half, it's a stress reliever.  I'm just sayin...

Question:  What is one thing that helps you relieve stress in your life?  What is something that you can suggest to help others who easily get overwhelmed?

Take a breather and lay down in the sun for a few..



Stillness

The ice storm has forced us to be quiet and still.

I am grateful for the solitude.

Let's Talk About Sex

Penis graffiti, Vienna, Austria



Does yoga, a practice associated with celibates and monks and yogis, have anything to do with sex?    One only needs to look at Sting, a devout yoga practitioner (and certified yoga teacher), and his alleged decade-long Tantric practice to sense an answer to this - YES!

Yoga has approached the sensual in a variety of ways.  Some yogis simply don't do it.  They would rather focus their spiritual energy elsewhere.  Luckily, many of us are both yogis and sensual beings and are able to balance this in an authentic way.

What made me think of this topic was a DVD I did this week, a "Kama Sutra" session, a kind of "dancing-and-getting-your-groove-on-with-your-sensual-yogi-self" kind of program.  A Christmas present given to me a few weeks ago, at first I wasn't sure what to expect or if it would be nothing but cheesy.  But, I was impressed to see that by the end of the 45 minute or so session, I felt the way the teacher had promised, invigorated, energized and...very sensual.  

The slow shifting of the hips, the movement of the body, the curving of the back, gliding your open palms up and down your waist and legs, it was all quite...stirring.  (The fact that the teacher was a breathtakingly beautiful and exotic woman obviously and proudly in touch with her sensual self didn't hurt much either).    What I found interesting though was that not one move - not one - was overtly sexual at all.  Each individual move and instruction was innocent enough and were just variations of any number of yoga positions or belly dancing moves I had experienced in class before.  But perhaps it was the intention, the energy in which they were done...the mojo of the moves, so to speak?

Whatever it was, it made me think about being a yogi who yearns for the spiritual and who is equally a sensual human being who cherishes being in the body and enjoying love's beauties with my loving (and very sexy) partner. There is no contradiction, for yogis for centuries have declared "Tantric Yoga" to be a vehicle for spiritual enlightenment, the union of the bodies symbolizing the union of our soul with God.  Tantra goes beyond physical pleasure or lust to a genuine oneness (at-one-ment) that connects you with the divine through the love and connection you share with your partner.  Divine union through sensual connection allows us to realize our complements in each other.

Ultimately, it's about interconnectedness, trust, and love.  In most Eastern religious traditions, spirituality and sensuality do not have to be mutually exclusive.  The story of Krishna is one such example.  A playful, trickster God, he flirts with the cowgirls, but his heart belongs to his beloved, Radha.  They have a passionate, sensual love.  Yet, he is deity.  When my students' jaws drop at the idea of God having sex, I tell them the the general idea from the Hindu perspective is...why wouldn't God, if God takes human form, experience one of life's most incredible, powerful, divine gifts of love?  A gift from God her/himself...

So, take some time this week, in a place of safety and love and respect, play some Mazzy Star or Nora Jones (or Al Green, maybe? Whatever, ahem, no pun intended...turns you on) and get in touch with yo' sensual self!

Questions of the week:  Why do you think spirituality and sensuality are so often separated?  What are the sacrifices of this?  What are the benefits of recognizing the connections between the two?

Is Yoga a Religion?

Shadow of Tibetan Buddhist Wheel on marble floor, Bodh Gaya, India



The entire appeal of yoga, to me at least, is that it is much more than just physical exercise.  It is true that the discipline or school of yogic philosophy originated within the context of rich religious traditions like Hinduism, Buddhism and Sufism.  However, by and large, most yoga practitioners, both ancient and modern, agree that while very spiritually infused and influenced, yoga, in and of itself, does not fit the traditional definition of a "religion."

Even so, this does not negate the strongly infused spiritual components of yoga practice.  Many of these are directly from Hindu thought, such as karma (cause and effect), ahimsa (nonviolence), the use of mantra (prayer), yamas and niyamas (ethical principles) and much more.

There are several different paths of yoga as well as 8 limbs to Patanjali's system in the Yoga Sutras.  This "Father of Yoga" outlined a system of practice several hundred years (some argue a couple of thousand) after it began in which only one of these are physical postures (asana).  The rest are committed to meditation, ethical practice, with the last four all dedicated to our evolution of spiritual enlightenment or samadhi, our ultimate peace/oneness.  Early on, yoga claimed a rich history of development among forest rishis and spiritual seekers in India in which these spiritual principles were practiced and taught.

But these topics all deserve their own blog (and shall receive it) to explore these important aspects in more detail.  Meanwhile, let's simply contemplate the definition of yoga to find its spiritual nature.

What is Yoga?  Usually, it is defined as "union" or "to yoke" in the sanskrit.  It is a uniting, but of what?  Modern yogis tell us it's a union between body and mind.  Others say it's a union of ourselves with our true nature.  In more religious contexts, specifically Hinduism, we are uniting Atman (the inner divinity/soul) with the greater Brahman (Absolute/Ultimate Force/God).  Yoga is a vehicle to connect us, not only with ourselves, but with the Divine (God) within ourselves.  Through yoga, we remember that we are not alone, that we are part of something greater - the Divine.

The Bhagavad Gita (Gandhi's favorite text) defines yoga as "a path of freedom from bondage" while the ultimate guidebook, the Yoga Sutras, begins by defining yoga as yoga chitta vritti nirodahah, or roughly, "Yoga is the Stoppings of the Turnings of the Mind."  We must settle the choppy waters of our mind if we are to see things clearly and attain true peace.

Possibly because yoga is not a religion per se is what makes its intuitive philosophy able to blend so harmoniously with virtually any religious tradition or belief.  My "JewBu" friend always says, "Being a Buddhist makes me a better Jew."  Likewise, for many others, practicing yoga can complement and enhance their Buddhism, Christianity, Sikhism, etc.

Can you practice yoga without adhering to any of the spiritual aspects?  Well, sure.  And you could still have a fantastic class or session and feel wonderful and energized aftewards.  Compared to classical era Indian rishis, we Westerners have the luxury to practice the postures without any of the rest.  But, my goodness, is it such a luxury after all when there is so much more offered within yoga's layers than a good workout?

It is often said that you don't have to be spiritual to do yoga, but chances are if you do yoga on any regular basis, you will probably wind up a little more spiritually minded or at least curious of how to take those principles "off the mat."  And that is the ultimate goal in yoga, to achieve peace and bring it into the world.
Take some time this week to devote to your spiritual self, however you may do that.

Question:  What is something that nourishes you spiritually?

Naps nourish kitties and ourselves...



Silence

Under the Bodhi Tree, Bodh Gaya, India

Last week, I went to a local Buddhist temple for a yoga class being taught there.  When I showed up, not a single person was there.  The doors were unlocked, so I went inside, slipped off my shoes and entered the quiet sanctuary.  I sat down on a zafu (zen pillow) and faced the Buddha and let my breath quiet and deepen.  After about 15 minutes, I realized no one was showing up for the yoga class and wondered if I had gotten the time wrong or if just, with the holidays, the class had been canceled. 

I thought about leaving, but then realized I had an entire Buddhist sanctuary to myself and decided to utilize it.  The sign on the door for their daily meditation instructed you to quietly light the incense, ring the bell and begin your practice.  And so I did.   I lit the incense and candle in front of the serene, wooden Buddha, sitting in meditation with a joyful smile across his face.  I rang the bell and then rolled out my yoga mat across the wooden floors.

As I moved through my practice, I became pleasantly aware of that all I could hear was my ujaayi breathing (deep breathing through the nose).  I realized that it's very rare, if ever, that I practice yoga in complete silence.  I usually have music, or a guided DVD, or the sounds of the lake and birds if I'm outside at my dock, or even if I attempt silence consciously during my indoor practice, it is always interrupted by the barks and chaos of a puppy chasing some very vocal cats across my mat.

Here, the muffled quiet of the sanctuary reminded me of a field covered by a thick blanket of snow, that beautiful silence that we are so unaccustomed to.

In this silence, I could hear the tick tick ping of the heaters coming on and off, the creaks of the old pipes and the occasional whoosh of a car in the distance.  But mostly, I just heard my breath, in and out, like ocean waves, in this warm room, full of sunlight.   Each time I came up into a pose, I saw the Buddha and couldn't help but smile back at his own contagious grin.

There is a reason why silent retreats are so popular at centers and ashrams.  In an overly verbally stimulted world, we are constantly assaulted with sound and stimulation.  Gandhi used to take a day a week to be in silence.  I often think of doing this (how incredible would that be?) but is this even possible in our day to day world?

In the film (and book), Eat, Pray, Love, Liz Gilbert attempts to take a vow of silence at her ashram, but is thwarted by an appointment to be "Miss Suzie Creamcheese" and help other guests acclimate to the ashram environment.  Sometimes, even with the good intention to quiet ourselves and listen more, life takes precedence.

At the end of my practice, I felt a powerful sensation of strength and quietness.  I sat on a zafu in front of the Buddha, a tiny transplant branch of the Bodhi tree from India to my left. (Buddha became enlightened under this Bodhi tree 2500 years ago).  I had to smile because it was under the massive, outstretched Bodhi Tree, on the other side of the world in India, in a sea of chanting Tibetan monks that I had an overwhelming experience of intense gratitude and sheer wonder of life and God and well...everything.  Now, 8 years later and only 12 minutes from my house, I was having a similar feeling, under this little bodhi tree branch, in the silence of this sanctuary, by myself.

The Tao Te Ching says that there's no need to travel all over the world seeking, that we can find God without every stepping outside of our door, that God is within us all the time.  Very Wizard of Oz.   

This week, if you can, take a half hour, or even just a few minutes, to be in silence.  Unplug, disconnect, close the door and just be.  See how you feel.

I'll leave you with this great clip sent to me by a wonderful student this week that fits perfectly with our topic.  John Cage, in a very Zen like philosophy, said that he wanted the audience to appreciate the music and sounds that came out of silence.  So, he created this piece so that each time it was "played," the experience (what the audience heard) would be different and unique and this would be the music, the creation.   What do you think?

Question of the week:   Have you ever had an positive experience because of taking time for silence?  When has silence benefitted you in your daily or spiritual life?

Banjo enjoys the beauty of silence