1000 Arms

 

We know that it will happen but usually, we never know when. Death comes to us all one day and yet so many of us, at some level, live thinking otherwise. In recent years, I have confronted the idea of death by listening to Ram Dass talking about “conscious aging”, reading the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, studying Shamanism, offering my own course to others on Conscious Aging, and speaking with my Mom about the subject. I asked her if she was scared of dying to which she replied, “No. I just wonder where I’ll go.”

With all the intellectual pursuit, I’ve had an opportunity to feel it in my bones and heart, as last weekend, my 88-year old mother died from complications of Covid.

To give context to this, my Father died in 1982 at the age of 46 from cancer. People, including myself, were stunned by his rapid decline and death…he was meant to live forever in my thinking. At the time, none of us had any skills around making sense of his death and my reaction was one where I simply tried to cope. He died in California during my first semester of university and I flew back to Australia to continue my studies. I would find myself crumbling as I sat in classes and don’t truly remember much about the six month period that followed. I’m thankful that I had a wise friend who took me by the hand to student health and introduced me to a counselor who, at the very least, allowed me to find some way to keep my head above my emotional tsunami.

I tamped much of the grief deeply within my body. I didn’t know how to grieve, I didn’t know who to turn to, and instead of allowing myself to fully feel, I numbed out and stuffed the emotions into dark corners of my being. It took 34 years for me to fully process the grief of my Dad’s passing with a cathartic release during my yoga therapy studies.

I am grateful for my daily practice and courage I’ve had to muster to talk about death. Someone asked me in the past few days how I was doing with my grief and I replied that it felt familiar, unlike what I experienced with my Dad, but more like what I experienced with one of my dogs. It comes in waves and I have allowed the waves to come, without stuffing down or ignoring, but feeling deeply into the present moment. And the remarkable thing is that I’m okay surfing all of it.

Part of my practice this past week since Mom’s passing is to chant, meditate, cry ugly, reflect, talk to others, and head out in nature. I took the week off from work in order to feel the passage of my Mom’s soul from her physical body into the next realm. I feel truly content that she is finally free of her dementia, her physical challenges, and her own limitations of this earthly existence.

As I have shared the news of canceled classes due to Mom’s death, the other thing that has been incredibly powerful is the feeling of being held by 1000 arms of love and compassion. Hundreds of people have sent condolences to me and my family.

I was reminded of the energy of Avalokiteśvara the bodhisattva who embodies the compassion of all Buddhas. Like Avalokitesvara, Guan Yin is also depicted with a thousand arms and varying numbers of eyes, hands, and heads, sometimes with an eye in the palm of each hand, and is commonly called "the thousand arms, thousand eyes" Bodhisattva. In this form, she represents the omnipresent mother, looking in all directions simultaneously, sensing the afflictions of humanity and extending her many arms to alleviate them with infinite expressions of her mercy, while the thousand eyes help her see anyone who may be in need. (Nationsonline.com). I have chanted to Guan Yin countless times and have become the recipient of this energy.

I feel my own Mother wrapped in the arms of the omnipresent Mother, and knowing the infinite source of compassion, I feel enfolded within the same vibration. Thank you to everyone who has reached out to me and my family. We feel you.

The Chrysalis

 

I can’t specifically recall when I learned about caterpillars morphing into butterflies but I do have images in my mind of a schoolroom with a waterless aquarium and a stick. The stick was literally the sticking point of transformation, but I never truly thought that much about it until I heard the process lyrically described by Heather Plett, author of “The Art of Holding Space”. When the caterpillar enfolds itself into the chrysalis and before it becomes a butterfly, it turns into a gel-like substance. In this state, it can no longer be identified as a caterpillar and it most certainly is not yet a butterfly.

This metaphor describes the in-between space of releasing one identity and becoming the next identity, often called Liminal Space. Heather Plett describes it as such:

“The Liminal Space is the space that lies between the known and the unknown. It is a transitional space of heightened intensity that we experience when we traverse the threshold of the creative unknown.”

As I became aware of liminal space, I couldn’t help but think that this past year of the Covid pandemic has left us all feeling a bit gel-like. What we used to know as “normal” is no longer. Perhaps we took for granted many aspects of our lives like hugging people, seeing smiling faces, travel, and the ease to move about our day uninhibited. With new boundaries being imposed, many people have been heard to say, “I can’t wait until we get back to normal…” Yet, as weeks extended into months, the “end in sight” has felt incomprehensible and elusive. We’ve virtually been in a liminal space of not knowing, and the question this week is how do we handle it and what does it have to do with our yoga practice?

In contemplation, this is actually at the heart of our practice…making peace with what is. Finding a sense of equanimity in the present moment and not wishing so deeply that things could be different. Our practice challenges us to find ease with the present moment…no matter what the moment looks like.

Liminal space is the mud of life offering us an opportunity to evolve beyond our current karmic situation. As John Welwood said, “we have a tendency to spiritually bypass” unresolved issues. Heather Plett describes it as, “trying to rise above the raw and messy side of our humanness before we have fully faced and made peace with it.” And Thich Nhat Hanh said, “No mud, No lotus.” Getting on our mats, feeling into the pain and what blocks us from evolving, the confusions that arise in our physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual selves is the art of doing our own work. It teaches us how to get better at being with what is, rather than wishing it were different.

To practice this, we’ve been spending time connecting into being fully present throughout classes this week. Being with what is, means to be with what is happening right now. And how do we do that? We feel into it using our senses.

Try the following to bring yourself into the present moment:

·         Close your eyes and listen. Hear the various sounds that arise and fall away within your environment. Try not to judge the sounds as ones you like or dislike. Simply notice them as they come and go.

·         Smell. Close your eyes and spend a minute noticing all aromas within your current space.

·         Feel. Notice your body’s touchpoints. What parts of your body are touching what…the ground, the chair, another part of your body, the air on exposed skin, or your clothing.

·         Breathe. Challenge yourself to focus on the end of each breath. The end of the inhale where you feel fullness. The end of the exhale where you feel emptiness. What does it feel like inside to have your lungs full or empty?

If you find yourself longing for the way things were or spinning off into the anxiety that lays in the future, bring yourself back to the present moment and try to find the ease that is within, utilizing your senses.

My concluding thought of the week: “Honor the space between no longer and not yet.” (Nancy Levin)

Feet in the Dirt, Hands on the Heart

 

During my hiatus this past summer, we went to an old-growth redwood grove that has never been logged. Walking into the grove and being amongst the giant beings was awe-inspiring and a reminder that they have been alive for many years longer than I’ve walked the earth. They have seen the passage of time and are still standing except for one notable tree that had toppled. Its uprooted base splayed out like a massive lacy web of intricate interlaces like a giant mosaic of tree structure. Yet, it was dead and its decay was returning to Mother Earth creating more fertile soil for the future growth of the forest.

The events that took place last week, the insurrection and storming of the US Capitol building felt like the giant, uprooted redwood. What once was assumed to be stable, was no longer. And part of the collective reaction was one that triggered fear, distrust, disconnection, and uncertainty. We too have lost our grounding.

As I sat in meditation before the beginning of this week, the theme popped into my head. Feet in the dirt, hands on the heart. The national unrest had found its way into my being and, on some level, I was digging deep into how to cope with my own anxieties. The answer is fundamental …get grounded and remember to look after your own heart. Now isn’t the time for trying to feel any way in particular but to allow whatever feelings are present to be just that…present. No tamping down, no ignoring. And, at the same time, to notice my reaction to the events and resultant feelings as this is where my internal locus of control has power.

As a good citizen, I can do what I can to affect change that I believe to benefit humanity and the Earth Mother. I can clench my fists and stomp my feet in reaction to things that I think may be disagreeable and, perhaps, sit quietly as I listen to differing opinions. Yet, I fundamentally need to look at receiving into my own heart that which nourishes me. If I spend more energy outside of myself and feed that, I very well may be diminishing my power by not looking after my own heart.

When we stand with our feet on the earth, we call upon the energy of the base chakra. The earth element is related to this chakra. Located at the base of the spine, this energy center has a primal nature in that it reflects survival, safety, and the stability of Mothering Consciousness. As we stand firmly upon the soil, the energy in the soles of our feet receive and connect to the energy of Mother Earth which is our global source of existence. Without the earth…none of this would be. It is where, on the most fundamental level, we are nurtured and taken care of. Without Mother Earth supporting us, we wouldn’t survive and when we are uprooted by what we have known to be true and no longer is…it feels as though our foundation has crumbled.

One way to re-ground and settle the uprooted energy is to simply go barefoot and stand on the earth. If that’s not an option, go outside and place your palms on the trunk of a tree or, even better, hug a tree. If you’re a gardener, spend time with what you’ve planted and nourished, get dirt under your fingernails.

To soften our hearts, place both hands on your chest and feel the aliveness of your own beating heart. As you close your eyes, think of the innocent and reliant beings you’ve nurtured in your life whether it be a newborn baby, a puppy or kitten, or a freshly planted garden. We’ve given this unconditional and protective energy to others and have cultivated a feeling of what it’s like to do so.

Further, think of other beings who’ve brought this energy to you throughout your life…your mother, relatives, friends, or non-human beings. This is the perfect time to allow yourself to fully receive loving and nurturing energy. It’s as though you have asked the mother's energy to feed and nourish you. When your own heart is full, you can then become the giver to others.

Finally, to lighten your energy here’s a terrific practice. Call or connect with that one person that always makes you laugh. It’s easy for me, I have my younger brother on speed dial and with a simple “hello” we can launch into a conversation that not only has me laughing within seconds but feeds that part of me that brings a smile to my heart.

Try it. Feet in the dirt, hands on the heart!

Hindsight is 20/20

 

My nickname as a kid was “eagle eye” as I could spot things far off in the distance before other members of my family could see what I was looking at. I had 20/15 vision and, up until my 40’s, I didn’t need the support of prescription glasses to have clear vision. It’s no longer the case as I haven’t dodged the aging bullet and have a diminished visual acuity. The ability to see things clearly is a metaphor for navigating the events of our lives and can affect how we make decisions. And of course the saying “hindsight is 20/20” is well-known for our ability to look back and understand what has happened. At times, when the present moment is too close to our face, we are unable to make sense of what’s actually happening and things can appear fuzzy.

And so has been the case for this past year, 2020, the year of the Covid-19 pandemic.

As we have just flipped the calendar into 2021, it’s a worthwhile exercise to reflect on the past 365 days and in doing so, perhaps keep our inner compass pointing in the direction of our metaphorical north star.

Yet before we move forward, it’s worthwhile to look back and feel into the pain of what we have lost, both as a collective and individually. This past week in the Beyond Asana class, we did the following exercise:

Step one is to write down what you have lost in 2020:

For me, the year began with finding ways to support fire relief for the Australian bushfires that ravaged the country and destroyed huge swaths of habitat and home. Our Desert Yoga Therapy community came together to raise money for the Victorian Wildlife Rescue as well as a GoFundMe campaign supporting a local farming community that had been bowled over by the flames. At the end of our fundraising day, “G’day and Namaste’”, we learned of the tragic death of Lakers Basketball legend, Kobe Bryant, his daughter, and others in a helicopter crash. After such an emotional and uplifting day of support, it felt like a gut-punch.

Then the pandemic arrived and in mid-March, over a weekend, I pivoted from in-person to online classes. It was a massive shift, wrought with anxiety and uncertainty. In reflection, I set the timetable three weeks out thinking that we’d all be back together sometime in April. And here we are, in January, still practicing live but online.

Other pain points have been not being able to see my Mother in person, dealing with a chronic back condition that I thought would sideline me from teaching, hearing about people getting sick and dying from the virus, canceling extensive travel plans and retreats, and still not having any idea as to a return to some semblance of “normal”.

Step two of this reflection process is to acknowledge the challenges and to look for all of the good stuff that’s happened as a result of a challenging year:

As I spent time thinking back, I came up with my second list: Improving my online teaching skills; building a robust online yoga library; enjoying my local environment of California beaches; nightly dancing with my husband; finding greater ease in letting things go; gratitude for many online moments of great depth and intimacy; undertaking four courses of study; and more home cooking.

The third and final step is to look at the good list and see what’s worth carrying forward into 2021:

Studies have shown that one of the best ways to change behavior and form a new habit is to couple it with an existing behavior, something referred to as “stacking”. I knew I wanted to build more spinal stability and was given a sequence of exercises meant to initially be undertaken twice a day. So instead of trying to find another open slot in my schedule, I stacked it into my well-established morning practice. Sandwiched between sitting in meditation I added a new pranayama (breath) practice before and undertook the stabilization program after. It truly has supported my adherence to something that has been deeply beneficial without feeling like it’s another thing on my to-do list.

So as we step into a fresh calendar year, instead of setting short-sighted resolutions, honor what has already blossomed amidst a year of unpredictability and various forms of grief. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest times, we have shining moments of seeing the light…20/20.

Satsang/Sangha

 

As I write this, on the last day of the year 2020, I’m grateful to be reflecting on what it means to be connected to community.  In what felt like a rapid and head-snapping pivot from teaching in-person to teaching online, followed by uncertainty and bouts of anxiety, almost 10 months later, we’ve found a way to make it work. The theme of this week, Satsang/Sangha is about like-minds coming together with a common intention. I’ve heard both words used over the years almost interchangeably and upon looking it up, I found the root word “Satsangha”. So at some point, it’s likely that the words split. Originating from Sanskrit, it means to be in the company of true people. Sangha means association, assembly, company, or community. So, in essence, a community that holds us up, that supports our journey, and reflects truth to one another.

Satsang often forms due to a “Satguru” or teacher, who shares their teachings to the community that gathers around them. They are most often seen to possess a wisdom unknown and not yet realized by most. I’m connected to the sangha stemming from Neem Karoli Baba (Maharaji), the guru to many Westerners who brought his unconditional love, influence, and indirect teachings to the West. It began with Ram Dass, who met Maharaji in India and was forever altered and impacted. He dropped the stone in the middle of the proverbial still pond which rippled out to others such as Krishna Das, Jai Uttal, and Trevor Hall and continues to this day.

In my most recent studies, I came across a quote from the J.Brown Yoga Talks podcast by Chris Preist (link here). The future Buddha is the sangha. This was one of those statements that stuck with me. It basically says that the collective wisdom isn’t with just one person, one Buddha, but within the collective. The more wisdom that is spread and shared throughout the sangha, the greater the elevation of the collective consciousness for the betterment of humanity.

I have taught many people over the many years of my career and what I have consistently enjoyed is teaching to groups. Some variant of synergy almost always emerges in the group dynamic and, at times, it’s so powerful it’s palpable. This experience is also common when we gather together for Kirtan (a musical experience based in Indian folk music) when the group simply appears to melt into one voice. And I know I’m not alone. People have continued to show up for live online classes because it holds value for those who attend. Of course it’s not the same as in-person, but an energy is still present which connects us during the experience. If it weren’t so, people would simply practice on their own or not at all. But showing up, even online, keeps the thread of connection vibrant.

The past three weeks we have been discussing and exploring the three S’s: Seva, Sadhana, and Satsang. As a recap, Seva is selfless service. How can we support others, particularly those in need or disempowered? Sadhana, is our personal spiritual journey and how we create our own daily practices and rituals to deepen our individual growth. Surround those two with a community, a Satsang, that supports both the individual and collective, we establish ourselves firmly on the path of what it means to be living from a yogic perspective. A perspective of harmony and union, of body, of mind, and of spirit. Our practice begins within each of us and exponentially expands when we reach out to support others and to be supported.

I trust the many lessons we’ve been exposed to in 2020 will lead us to a richer understanding of what’s important. And I’m grateful for the simply realization of the beauty of our yoga community that is reflected back to me every time I step in front of the camera. May we continue to support and grow both individually and collectively, in a more profound essence in the year to come.