Tranquility

Perhaps I'm still feeling the afterglow of a recent Restorative Intensive workshop, but I was inspired to talk about tranquility this week. As I shared the theme with different classes many people gave wry smiles and "ahhhs", so I guess I'm not alone in seeking more peace. Tranquility is a state of being which is calm; an inner sense of peacefulness. In reading about tranquility, I came across a study where city dwellers were taken to the countryside and lo and behold what happened? Well, to nobody's surprise they felt more tranquil. Simply by shifting their external environment, their stress levels lowered. All of that is lovely and not surprising, but what happened when they went back to the city?

One of the beautiful effects of getting onto our yoga mat or plopping ourselves down on our meditation cushion is that instead of simply shifting our physical and external environment, we begin to create changes in our internal environment. Yoga and meditation teach us to pay attention to the present moment, to sit with what is happening without feeling as though we need to push it away or change it. We learn to respond rather than to react to situations and in the process become more conscious in general.

Eckhart Tolle speaks about fully experiencing the state of stillness and in doing so, we transcend our identification with our egoic minds and life roles, as well as our belief that our thoughts are real. When we know stillness, we connect to the vast field of consciousness and the discovery of "I Am", our true selves. It's in this space of inner peacefulness that we recognize we are simply microcosms of the macro-cosmic universal energy.

When I sit quietly and ask myself, "Where in my body does peacefulness reside?" my answer comes to a space somewhere between my heart and throat. It's a pulse of energy that seems to be part physical and part of my external energetic or auric field. Over time, if we get to know where in our physical body tranquility can be found, it becomes easier and easier to access it when we find ourselves needing to down-regulate in challenging situations. 

Our practice gives us the opportunity to cultivate our connection to the embodiment of different emotions and feelings. If I think about where love lives in my body, I am drawn more deeply into my chest which is interesting as it's also a close neighbor to where anger likes to reside. Similar location but very different energy between them. And they don't show themselves simultaneously, that is, we can't be loving and angry all at the same moment. My point is, the more we find stillness, the deeper our understanding is to what's happening in each moment. We gain clarity and a more profound sense of self, the "I Am" aspect of our being. In regards to tranquility, when we are able to "bookmark" where it resides, we can go there whether we are hustling through a busy city or strolling along a mountain path in solitude. 

Peacefulness doesn't live outside of us but is inherently within us. Perhaps we step into a natural environment to facilitate the uncovering of inner tranquility and by doing so, we get to know it intimately. So try this practice to uncover your inner quiet. Make yourself as still as possible, either sitting or laying down and notice what happens. The key is to stay still and avoid fidgeting and witness where your attention goes. It may reveal itself slowly, but over time it reveals the essence of who you really are.

Wu Wei

Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. ~ Lao Tzu

This past weekend I had one of those most delightful experiences of running a Restorative Intensive workshop. Sometimes the energy of the group is a synergistic combination that results in a truly open learning environment and this group manifested such energy. They asked in-depth questions, began applying the principles by the end of the weekend, and showed a sense of creativity and compassion needed to offer this type of practice to others. It was a real gem. They were in the flow of the practice and the result was magical.

It made me think of the Taoist principle of Wu Wei, which is aligning our movement with the greater flow of life. It can be referred to as "natural action" and doesn't involve any sense of struggle or striving, but surrendering to the flow of life no matter what is happening. I was first introduced to this concept several years ago when I read the book "The Tao of Pooh" by Benjamin Hoffman. It explains Chinese Taoist philosophy using the characters of Winnie The Pooh and mentions Wu Wei in the process. Of course, for any Pooh fans, Pooh is the Zen master of all the characters, easily and without excessive effort, moving through life.

This relates to yoga as we allow our practice to unfold, inviting our body to move rather than striving or struggling in any part of the practice. Sometimes a forced practice can be seen as we try to "bind" a pose, gripping onto the opposite hand, or bouncing in order to get our hands to touch the floor. In doing so, we miss the point of the practice...one which is loving and compassionate, not forceful or competitive. In Loving Kindness meditation, this is known as equanimity, that state where no matter what's happening, we are able to view it from a place of stability rather than turmoil. In trying to keep things simple, we allow our practice to come to us, rather than setting a plan for where we want it to go, especially if the timing doesn't align with where we actually are.

Many athletes, musicians, and writers know the state called "flow" where everything simply comes together with ease. When musicians play and sync up, it's called "being in the pocket", for athletes, they find "peak performance", and writers lose all sense of time and tap into the channel of inspiration that seems beyond intellect. Yet, if you ask these people how to make it happen each and every time, the answer may be elusive. It's as though the stars have aligned and everything was just "going my way."

Many years ago, I traveled extensively and it included six months, often hitchhiking, through Africa. I flew from London to Harare, Zimbabwe on a one-way ticket, with a backpack, and no itinerary. I had heard from other travelers that to truly experience Africa, heading there without an agenda was ideal. I began to understand what "Africa-Time" really meant...buses left when they were full, you may or may not get a lift that day, and nobody seemed to be in a particular hurry or pay attention to timetables. Let's just say it was the antithesis to being in a place where punctuality and precision matter, such as Germany, Switzerland, or Japan. 

As I found my way in Africa, I was joined by a friend that I had traveled with in Greece. Annie and I had a blast exploring Crete and a couple of other Greek islands, yet when she arrived in Africa, she had only three weeks to explore. Needless to say, our energies no longer complemented each other as she had a hurried agenda and I was finding my Wu Wei. I have always felt that the rare opportunity of traveling without an itinerary or need to be any place at any particular time was the freest I have felt in my entire life. 

Currently, my life is completely timetabled as it is with so many of us. We have a schedule that needs to be adhered to in order to be productive and professional. So how do we find the natural flow day-to-day? We don't need to be elite athletes or professional musicians to find it, but we can uncover moments in our day when we simply open ourselves to being completely present and deeply mindful of our even most mundane experiences. Four suggestions to help us find our Wu Wei are:

1. Spending time in nature
2. Giving without condition
3. Letting go of how we think something is supposed to look
4. Staying open to spontaneous emergence

So my thought of the week is to trust the spaciousness of your life and to unschedule yourself from a few things. Connect to the above suggestions to get started on a deeper path of flow and enjoying doing Wu Wei, your way!

Reminders-Do Your Work

Just as the gentle winter rains have tapped me on the shoulder recently, so have some gentle reminders falling from the Universe. These subtle signs and messages are always present, so the question isn't whether or not they are showing up in our lives, but rather are we paying attention to them when they do. I was fortunate to notice one of my subtle messages this past week and heard it as I was walking and listening to a podcast with Eckhart Tolle. Someone had posed a concern to Tolle about an addicted sister and their desire to help her with their addiction, yet the person seemed somewhat unresponsive to the many supportive attempts the sibling was offering.

To this, Eckhart replied that ultimately, despite good intentions, only she is responsible for her own consciousness and that the well-intentioned sibling was only responsible for her own consciousness. "Ahhhh", I thought, "that's just the reminder that I needed". I know I'm not alone when I say this, but I have this way of trying to "fix" things for other people. It can be seen in the work that I do in supporting people in expanding their own consciousness and connecting to their holistic selves. It's a reflection of being a "pitta" dosha, having the constitution of "knowingness" and getting things right. And this particular reminder came at a time when I was chewing on some behaviors my Mother, who has dementia, has been experiencing. My reaction was trying to "make it better" for her, to find a "fix" for the problem.

However, the reality is that I can't make it better for her as I have no control over her dementia and the roller-coaster of confusion and emotions that go along with it. Whether I like it or not, ultimately it's her journey and the path that she's been walking along for some 86 years. As her daughter, I can do things to support her along this journey such as ensuring she's safe, feels loved, and receives comfort and non-judgment when she's confused and can't remember why she's living where she's living. But I can't change her experience of what's happening to her and my reminder was to acknowledge that what I do have control over is my reaction to bearing witness to someone I love. And the way to "hold the space" for such discomfort is to do my own work which focuses on my own consciousness and compassion.

In holding the illusion that we have control over things when we actually don't, eventually leads to our own suffering. It's cloaked in the costume of wanting to help others yet reveals that our own suffering deepens when it's not ours to control. The support begins by supporting our own selves so that when we are face-to-face with suffering, particularly with those close to us, we see them with an open-hearted acceptance of where they are in that very moment. I can't change it...only my reaction to it. Yep, it was a powerful reminder indeed.

My thought of the week is to notice what it is that's reminding you to come back to your own practice. Maybe it is letting go of the things you can't control or perhaps slowing down or saying "no" to something. It might be your desire to declutter your closet or connect to a friend you haven't seen lately. Whatever it may be, the important thing is to notice when it's grabbing your attention and to return to it...that IS your practice...remembering what supports you to be the best version of yourself and to stick with whatever it takes to make that happen.

The saying above "Not my circus, not my monkey" is relevant as we turn to our own process. It's a gentle reminder to stay open to how our practice guides us and to take care of our own personal monkey.

Solitude

With the hectic pace of the past month, it seemed appropriate to gravitate toward the yin side of life and talk about solitude. As I mentioned in my last post, over this past couple of weeks I have been inundated with people. We had roughly 650 tennis players in this year's tennis event, many of whom I see at the tournament desk and many who I have come to know over the past 14-years. I'd go to set up the tennis desk in the morning,  then head to the studio where we're in peak season, meaning many people in and out of classes. In addition, on my birthday, I received a barrage of birthday wishes mainly on Facebook. Needless to say, it felt like a tsunami of incoming energy, loaded with gratitude, good wishes, and much love. It reminded me of how important outward connection to community can be, the forming of relationships that reflect our best qualities back to ourselves.

And it helped to remind me that the balance to that is time alone. It has been said that one of the most powerful things we can learn is to sit alone in a room and to be comfortable with that...no distractions, with nothing to do, teetering on the edge of boredom. Yet, it isn't something that we're taught. Our culture recognizes the extrovert, those who face outward, engage and get stuff done more so than us introverted types whose energy is replenished in solitude and quiet.

When we have time by ourselves is the time we get to know ourselves. Without distraction to tear our attention away from us, we begin to sit face-to-face with what's happening within us. And the more we sit with ourselves, the more we peel away the layers of all the stuff we hold in our unconscious selves.

As part of my morning meditation practice, I often chant a Tibetan Buddhist mantra to the white Tara along with the Gyuto Monks, Deva Premal, and Miten. Deva and Miten were initiated into this mantra by the head monk named, Sona, who spent time in isolation for three years, three months, three weeks, three days, and three hours...twice. They say how they have never met someone so deeply at peace with themselves as Sona. Obviously, renouncing the world and focusing on compassion is deeply profound and resonates a sensibility of ease that we often don't see or meet. And as far as I know, nobody reading this blog post is a renunciate, sitting deeply in practice for extended periods of time.

As Swami Kripalu has said, the spiritual path of the householder is a difficult journey. All of us are engaged in our lives through our community, family, schools, careers, and attempting to make it all flow along as smoothly as possible. To find time to deepen our spiritual seeking takes great discipline and effort as we are naturally drawn away from turning inward.

So my thought of the week is a simple one. When you do find yourself in a time of solitude, notice what you do with it. Do you reach for your phone or tablet? Turn on the TV? Listen to a podcast? Head for the fridge? Do the laundry? Clean the kitchen? You get the picture. By simply noticing where your attention is drawn gives us an opportunity to pause and do nothing. The more frequently we interrupt our pattern, the more moments of solitude and connection we have. To deepen this self-inquiry, meditation and yoga offer us the perfect sacred space in which to truly get to know our deepest and most authentic selves.

I recently had a doctor's appointment and as I sat in the waiting room, I noticed everything that could act as a distraction-a TV was on, magazines were scattered on a table, waiting patients were on their devices, and the reception staff was handling people checking in. It wasn't a peaceful or relaxing environment. When I got taken to the exam room, they were running behind schedule, so I took the opportunity to simply sit and wait. I closed my eyes and relaxed my forehead. I gave these 20 minutes to myself as solitude time. When the energetic physician came into the room, I said to him, "It's really busy in here". He replied, "Yes, it certainly is" and then he did something that resonated with me. He pulled up his stool, sat down lifting his arms, and slowly exhaled as his hands came to his lap. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me, "Now that's better...how can I help?"

The opportunity to release our connection to outward stimuli is present more than we might think. Try it...look for small spaces in your day where you put down your device and become radically present to the moment. Perhaps take a deep breath, close your eyes, and when you open them you might think..."Now that's better!"