Three Rhythms

I recently heard a teacher talk about three rhythms of our body and became curious in exploring this idea and using it as a way to engage more deeply in our experience of yoga.  

 

The first rhythm is that of the beating heart.  If you take a moment to pause, get quiet with your breath and close your eyes, can you feel the rhythm of your own heartbeat?  I notice it as a pulsation that has a subtle rocking action.  When I get quiet enough to sense it, I notice its beautiful regularity, strength and connection to being alive.  If we think about our hearts simply as physical organs, they are simply amazing.  They have their own circuitry and electrical system which works without us even thinking about it.  Our hearts beat at rest somewhere between 60-80 beats in just one minute. Multiply that out by our lifetime and this incredible pump literally keeps on tickin' without any input directly from us.  It just keeps ticking and thumping and beating.

 

Beyond its physically miraculous structure lie the less tangible energetics of our heart: love, compassion, forgiveness and grief. Our arms are an extension of our heart which is expressed when we hug, give a high-five, shake hands, pat someone on the back, prepare food, clap or gently stroke somebody's face.  Our arms and hands reflect what the language of our hearts is speaking.

 

Yet our heart isn't something we can control.  There are stories of enlightened beings stopping their heartbeat simply by thinking about it, but beyond that they beat to their own drum.

 

The second energy is that of our brain and brain wave patterns. In I.2 of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali,  "Yogas Citta Vritti Nirodah", has been translated as "Yoga is controlling the activities of the mind (chitta)" which recognizes that one of the primary objectives of undertaking yoga is to quiet the endless thoughts that bombard our minds.   Our brain activity and resultant brainwaves fluctuate constantly.  The brain waves of a person deep in meditation are distinctly different from those overly dramatic thoughts of an insomniac who is awake at 2:00 AM.  The practice of meditation is about becoming an observer rather than a participant in these fluctuations.  And if you ask even the most experienced and seasoned meditators, they STILL have days in which their thoughts jump around like the proverbial "drunken monkey" that's just been stung by a scorpion.  Bottom line: our thoughts are difficult to control.

 

The third energy is that of the breath. The beauty of this energy is that it is the one that we can greatly control and by doing so has an affect on the other two energies.  As I've written in previous blogs, we do have the capacity to go through our entire lives and be completely unconscious of our breath.  Sometimes it's beginning a practice such as yoga that we are exposed to the idea that we can actually alter our breathing and hence alter how we feel and react.

 

Yoga is filled with breathing practices that respond to and create a variety of responses in the body.  We can calm ourselves physically, energize low vitality, cool ourselves down or heat ourselves up. As we deepen our connection and practice to altering the breath, we can slow down our heart beat, lower our blood pressure and alter our brain waves.  

 

The power that is within to access how we breathe is immense. When these three energies intertwine and mingle, we can alter how we feel.  With what seems to be a constant barrage of bad news and connection to everything BUT ourselves and each other, getting to know our breath and its patterns can literally change how we view the world and how we feel within it.

 

Enjoy tapping into that source of breath that lies within...your heart, mind and soul will thank you for it! 

Trying Not To Fall

Initially it felt like an adventure.  I had qualified to compete in the regional gymnastics championships being held in Hawaii.  I have always possessed a wicked case of wanderlust, so qualifying to travel to Hawaii in order to compete was an added bonus.  I trained 30 hours a week as a gymnast...five hours a day, six days a week. School, gym, homework...repeat. We arrived on Oahu to the warm ocean breezes and somewhat hot and humid weather.  It was 1977 and the one-piece jumpsuit warm-up was all the rage, as well as my Dorothy Hamill-esque haircut.  


I remember the experience beginning with great excitement at being on the islands.  Then it was onto the familiar routine of hotel, gym, sleep...repeat.  Being in an unfamiliar environment combined with a change in weather conditions I was unaccustomed to and the anticipated rigorous competition ahead of me made me feel quite nervous.  I competed well, but not quite well enough...  1/10 of a point not well enough.  I missed qualifying for the sectionals (half of the USA) by what would translate as a slightly bent knee or a toe that wasn't pointed quite straight enough.  I was crushed.  I cried and then cried some more.  My coach tried to petition me through but they held firmly to the rules, unwilling to bend even that 1/10 of a point.  I had this deep gut feeling of unworthiness.


My gymnastics training had worked on the philosophy of trying not to fall.  Many opportunities exist to fall in gymnastics where you can virtually fall on any event or apparatus.  I know...I've fallen on or off all of them.  Sometimes just a little wobbly off-center fall and others a skeleton rattling experience.  Trying not to fall is a big deal. During a particularly challenging portion of training, I was instructed to complete 10 consecutive beam routines without a fall.  If I fell, I had to go back to routine #1.  It took me a couple of hours to reach that goal, but I got good at not falling.  Until we headed to Hawaii and my mental state wasn't as well trained as my physical state.


Why do I share this gymnastics tale of woe as my thought of the week?  I do it because it's a beautiful metaphor for life.  When we're kids, we frequently topple.  We fall, we get back up. I had a long history of stubbed toes, scraped elbows and banged up knees.  It didn't define me, it was simply something I did.  We fall because we explore and we are curious.  We test our limits and we learn them along the way.  We haven't quite heard the warning, "be careful or you might fall" fully in our consciousness.  And we fall in non-physical ways...emotionally, through challenging experiences, failures, rejections and not hanging out with the "cool" kids.


As we physically grow and begin to know boundaries we often become less daring, more linear in movement or perhaps injured in a way that instills a different sense of fear than previously existed.  In working with countless adults through group exercise, personal training or in yoga, they are often completely shocked at their inability to even balance on one leg...shocked!  I then ask the question, "when was the last time you practiced balancing?" which is often replied with a bewildering lack of recall as to when that was.  It's been so long since we tested the waters of balance and instability that we develop a fear of falling.


When working with many senior and super senior clients, I have a saying, "we learn a lot when we fall...or nearly fall".  We learn to pay attention, to catch ourselves on uneven surfaces, to notice that moment of tipping before we tip too far.  And this fear is valid as great injuries leading to great illness can be a result of a fall. And yet, when we allow ourselves to go to that place where the risk rises, our senses sharpen and our heart rate rises.  We tap back into a primal sense of survival, of finding our own two feet.


One of the great gifts of gymnastics was to teach me how to land and how to fall more safely.  It got embedded into my motor memory sometime in all of those hours in the gym.  And as I age and continue turning myself upside down in my yoga practice, I test my balance frequently to stay sharp.  And finally to give myself permission that it's okay to fall...whether that fall be a physical tumble or an emotional stumble.  I have also let go of the fall determining whether or not I'm good enough...I am enough, fall or no fall.


I know that although I may be a bit banged up, that it will all be okay.  If you fall, get up and try again...there's no 1/10th of a point deduction for that!

Zap

There we were...attending the annual Bhakti Fest, a yoga/music gathering located in the high desert near Joshua Tree, California. Our days were spent in morning meditation or chanting the Hanuman Chalisa (a 40-verse ancient prayer tapping into service, devotion and inner strength), attending yoga classes, eating vegan food and listening to live Kirtan (call and response) music.  People floated about enjoying good vibrations, feeling a deeper sense of connection to themselves and all other beings.  Love was in the air.  It was a time of letting go of the everyday and experiencing something different.  For many people, it pushes them completely out of their comfort zone and exposes them to a world of Bhakti 
(devotion), unlike many other traditional forms of contemplation.  It can't help but alter your state of being.

And then you hop in your car, sliding that new favorite CD into your player and continue the loving feeling all the way home. Until, that is, you walk through the door and realize you're back into the everyday...into the ordinary life that is yours.  The question is, "How long do these good vibes last?".


It's not just returning from Bhakti Fest when this happens.  It can happen following an amazing concert, coming home from vacation, a yoga retreat or after a major life event such as a graduation or wedding.  You're flying high on the richness of life as though reality and time are somewhat suspended, particularly if the experience was rich and heart opening.  How long can the residue of the experience last?


I've had this experience on many occasions and have found that the deeper I go into the "away" experience, the longer it sticks with me when I return home.  And if I can embody the feeling of what it's like to be in this buzzing state, I can access it during moments of my ordinary day to day, especially during smaller moments that reflect it, such as meditation, cycling, practicing yoga or listening to music.


The key is to step into your own sanctuary on a daily basis. Heading off to a festival or vacation or retreat is like taking a mega-dose of peace and serenity, to fill up on the good stuff.  For me, the good stuff is remembering my connection to what I do and why I do it.  It's remembering to look through the lens of optimism, love and gratitude.  The longer I stay away from mega-dosing, the dustier the lens becomes, yet it's through connecting to a daily ritual that stops it from going away altogether.


The ancient yogis and sages knew this.  They had these enlightened states and sought to stay that way always...not just on the weekends.  So they would dive fully and completely into their practice.  Nowadays that means being in the frame of mind that you have on the mat to taking it off the mat and into all moments. It begins by taking a daily dose of goodness first thing in the morning.  That alone will set the tone for good vibrations throughout the day.


Give it a try.  Get up in the morning and find some peace and quiet for a few minutes.  Reflect into what you're grateful for and what you have to look forward to that day.  At the end of the day, as you're unwinding toward sleep, reflect again on how much abundance was in your day and how you affected others.  It can't help but you give mini-bhakti high...go on...give it a try!

First World Problem

The sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon and the local mountains reflect its rays in glowing shades of pink.  A stillness is slowly awakening to the dawn of a new day.  I sit crossed legged on my meditation cushion and begin to settle into my daily morning practice.  I find my breath and begin to surrender to the moment.

Barup, pup, pup, pup...barup, pup, pup, pup...barup, pup, pup, vroooommmm begins the sound of a leaf blower.  In an instant I begin to tense my jaw and within another I begin to snicker inside as I think, "the gardeners are here during my meditation time! Oh, the gall".   The realization in the next moment is that I am sitting inside a beautiful house on a cushy cushion with cool air-conditioning in the middle of a hot summer and I have a garden that is maintained by gardeners!  How blessed!  The initial agitation is a reflection of a first world problem.

As I began to think about how much ease we have in an abundant society, I began to notice first world problem situations everywhere.    


While standing in line waiting to pay for our parking following a Jason Mraz concert a woman was complaining to her friend about how her son was on a wait list for AYSO (American Youth Soccer Orangization) team.  She was indignant that she hadn't received an email in time to register and proceeded to read the entire email to her friend (who wasn't the only person within earshot) over the next 10 minutes. She was loud and adamant that this situation was not okay. She'd volunteered multiple times in the past.  She put in her time and her kid was likely to be sitting on the sidelines as a spectator.


What exactly is a first world problem and why does it matter?  I think of a first world problem as one that is experienced in wealthy, industrialized societies.  The problem seems so drastic that it not only serves as an inconvenience but is a true disruption to our quality of life.  First world problems are complaints and frustrations that don't exist or are unlikely to occur in the third world due to the simple truth of not having access to education, financial abundance or opportunity.  Some of our first world problems wouldn't even make sense in a third world.  


Last weekend my nephew was coming to meet us at my Mother's house for a visit.  Along the way his car broke down along US101, a busy freeway that runs through Los Angeles.  We got a call asking if we could help and within an hour we had called roadside assistance, driven 20 minutes to meet my nephew, got his car loaded onto a tow truck and off he went with a plan to fix his tweaked alternator.  As he was waiting for us he had found a place with the right spare part for his Volvo which was still open and was able to find a solution.  We made it back to Mom's place in time to take her out for dinner (although we missed the company of our car-repairing nephew).  Total first world problem.


We have ease and access.  We have ways of solving problems that in developing worlds could alter the course of someones life.  Yet, so often we fail to remember what we have.  When someone has to wait on an internet shopping item because it's backordered...first world problem.



My thought for the week is to whine less and appreciate more.  To remember the many faces of people who truly have a tough time of it on a daily basis.  Their entire lives are not easy.  To remember that when I think things are going badly or are difficult, to realize that I have choice and an ability to express myself freely.


I must remember my good fortune and realize I have first world blessings instead.

Do Your Best

I've had a few personal challenges over the past couple of weeks. It's as though the universe is giving me a pop quiz saying "So, smarty pants, you think you've been in your practice? How will you handle this?"  Just as I feel that I can remain on an even keel, something comes along to tip the balance.   One piece to deepen my own personal practice has been by participating in the 21-day meditation offered by Deepak Chopra and Oprah Winfrey.  It's the third series I've participated in from them and have enjoyed the process.  I find that a different voice of perspective awakens my own meditation.


This past week it was certainly sparked when Deepak said and I'll paraphrase:  


As we evolve along our own path of spiritual awareness, we can feel enthusiastic about sharing it with others.  Often, their response is less than excited and frequently disinterested.  Know that everyone is doing the best they can from the current level of their own awareness.


The last sentence landed right in the center of my consciousness, "they are doing the best they can in their current state of awareness" and I likewise find myself that very same position. 


I don't know if it's a gene, but I have this wicked combination of being a perfectionist and being competitive.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing as I get things done.  Yet, when I am out of balance I can veer toward feeling that what I'm doing isn't effective or good enough. I'm quite practiced at beating myself up and often bypass the positive impact that my actions have on other people and in the world.


This is my practice.  When something hits me in a profound way I recognize that's where I am in my own journey and when I have found a sense of peace with that I want to share it with others through teaching.  My lesson is that what I am is enough.  What I have is enough and what I do is enough...just where I'm at in this very moment.


When I come to that realization I sense an abundance in my being, not a lack.  It allows a softening of perspective toward myself and others as well opening space for the next step of my own evolution.  It allows a sense of freedom and forgiveness, something that sometimes moves out of perspective.


I hold gratitude for the voice of others and appreciated what Deepak Chopra brought into my awareness.  My thought for the week is to do the best you can...I'll try to keep that in mind, too! 

Those Who Stand Behind Us

It's been a significant week in the yoga world with the passing of Mr. BKS Iyengar, affectionately called "Guruji".  As yogis often say, "he left his body" on Tuesday as his kidneys were failing over the past few weeks while fighting infection. He would have been 96 in December.


It was a surprise how hard it hit me the morning after I had heard about his passing.  I was beginning to tell my morning class about him, had lit a candle and dedicated the class to him.  As I started to share how I and so many others were indirectly connected to him I began to tear up.  I kept it together until I reflected on how I stepped onto the path of yoga. About twenty years ago, the first class I walked into at the University of Melbourne was an Iyengar yoga class.  My teacher, Judith Hanson Lasater, was one of his students and that so much of what and how I teach is a direct reflection of his genius.  His use of props was evolutionary and is deeply reflected in the practice of restorative yoga.


My tears began to gently flow as I recognized the powerful impact that one person had made on my own life as I sat in front of a class about to teach.  I had no idea that when I stepped onto my mat for the first time in an Iyengar class, with my first instructor, Murray, eventually saying to me "Jayne, you should teach yoga" that I would actually have such a deep revelation so many years later.  And all of this came about by one person who inadvertently set it all in motion...Mr. Iyengar.


He was born into poverty and struggled with illness.  It was yoga that healed him and pointed him in the direction of his dharma, his purpose in life.  He studied, practiced and taught yoga for over 70 years and apparently had an uncanny eye for seeing the body in incredible ways.  His perspective, trial and error, evolved into an entire lineage that can be traced back to the modern day father of yoga, Tirumalai Krishnamacharya.  Two of his students, BKS Iyengar and K. Pattabhi Jois, created two of the most well-known styles of yoga: Iyengar and Ashtangha.  Virtually any, and all, hybrid styles and forms of yoga that are being practiced throughout the Western world have trickled down through these channels.


What I love about the ever-evolving perpetuation of yoga is that when well taught and practiced, the practitioner begins to literally embody the teachings.  From that place of knowing each person brings to the practice the alchemy of their own unique experiences.  Some share it through simply living it, others through teaching it.  It's a way of taking what resonates within someone and paying it forward through your own interpretations.


Countless teachers have gone before me, all passing along their inspiration, experimentation and insight.  At some point, it landed so deeply within that I felt the calling to share all that I had learned.  The many who have gone before us have lit the path for us to walk along.


Judith Hanson Lasater has shared the image of sitting before a class and seeing all of those teachers in her lineage standing behind her.  I, too, hold a similar image and the people behind me aren't all yogis, but have offered something to me as I have journeyed along this path.  It seems to be very crowded back there. 


The overwhelming part is how deeply it can touch our lives, how profoundly it offers a sense of community and how humbling it is to have been touched by the hand of genius.


Rest in peace Guruji and, like millions of others, I thank you and bow deeply to you.

Radical Presence

    

Radical Presence

Imagine hiking up to the top of a mountain with a group of people, one of whom is hauling a standing bass, amplifier and small mixing board.  You then find a place to sit on the ground and face the setting sun as the lower resonant tones of the musical scale begin to penetrate the surroundings.  There's nothing left to do but sit, listen and allow the experience to wash over your being.  


I didn't have to imagine this scenario as I experienced it twice, in fact, at Wanderlust Squaw last month.  A talented and accomplished musician, Garth Stevenson, offers sunset and sunrise meditations where he carries his 70-pound load of musical gear in a custom-made "back pack".  He "plays music in nature" and WOW...the experience was the highlight of my time at Wanderlust. When the music ceased playing after about 30-40 minutes, all of nature's sounds were amplified.  I sat gazing out into the wilderness with such clarity and sense of connection. My breath was present but almost literally taken away at the same time.

 

I have had the good fortune of magical travel experiences over this past month. Following my Wanderlust trip that took me to Lake Tahoe, Ed and I embarked on a two-part journey.  Part one was hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, Peru with part two, spending six days exploring the Galapagos Archipelago in Ecuador.  


For those unfamiliar with the Inca Trail, our 4-day trek covered 26.5 miles (42.5 Km) as we climbed to 13,779 feet (4250 m), then again to 13,123 feet (4000 m) (and all in one day) as well as descended countless steps to finally climb up the "Gringo killer" steps to pass through the Sun Gate at 8956 feet (2730 m) to catch our first glimpses of Machu Picchu.  To say it was "steep" would be putting it mildly, yet despite the lungs and quadriceps burning and reacting to the high altitude, it was more than just a worthwhile effort.  We had incredible porters who hauled the heavy stuff (and could run the trail with seeming ease and focus), a talented chef and incredible guide.  Our small group of eight had the life-bonding experience of vistas, ruins, rain, hail, fog, an ancient trail, bone-chilling nights and glaciers.  We saw other groups along the trail but had many moments of quiet and solitude.  In order to traverse the unpredictable terrain, one needed to be completely focused.  It was a 4-day walking meditation where distraction could mean a slip or a fall.

 

The final phase of this trip was the other-worldly exploration of the Galapagos, a stark contrast to the Inca Trail.  Located along the equator, the temperatures were perfect, the sun was shining on an endless ocean.  Ed and I ventured off on our own to join 14 others on a yacht.  Being in the Galapagos is like having the most bountiful and wild zoo at your footsteps.  Giant land tortoises, blue-footed boobies, flightless cormorants, Galapagos hawks and penguins, pelicans, frigate birds, marine and land iguanas, green sea turtles, families of sea lions, dolphins and a whale abounded!


One of the many incredible things about this part of the world, as Charles Darwin observed, is that the animals have little fear of humans which allows you to walk freely among them (keeping a safe and respectable distance too, of course!).  What often seemed to be volcanic islands with lava flows revealed themselves to be overflowing with life and particular eco-systems.  We needed to be fully awake and aware as to not step on any precious creature all the while having all senses alight with animal and natural delight!

 

In these three experiences-meditating on a mountain, hiking the Inca Trail and being amid wildlife enabled one particular and common experience - that of being radically present.  What all of these moments had in common was a complete absorption of the experience.  My mind was simply in the present moment.  Work, worries, politics, world and social woes, heartache and despair were not even on the horizon of my consciousness. The sole experience was being on the mountain, then on the trail with each foot fall, then, in a different moment, face to face snorkeling with a marine iguana.


It reminded me of what the essence of yoga is largely about-being present in the most profound and radical way.  No distraction exists to pull you away from the feeling of absolute connection to all beings and all creatures.  These experiences reminded me of being divinely connected - of being one.  No separation existed between me and all else.


What a gift this travel adventure uncovered.  My hope is that this reminder is one that comes to me often, fully and in my ordinary rather than just in the extraordinary moments of my experience.


Wow...radical presence...what a gift!