Gods and Goddess of Yoga, part 1

What do these guys have to do with yoga?

A student asked me this once.  We were on a teacher training retreat, in a temple that was covered in statues and paintings of deities. It was a good, reasonable question.  What were we doing in a temple anyway?  This student had signed up to learn to teach yoga classes, not go on a mythological journey.  But even in the most fitness-based yoga, we tend to stumble into its spiritual roots.  Yoga mat bags are inscribed with Sanskrit lettering, you hear enigmatic chanting in the background music, and studio walls and retail section items are adorned with colorful, exotic-looking gods and goddesses.

So what do those guys have to do with yoga?  Is it some kind of religion?  Do we just like the pretty pictures?  Different people will give you different answers.  And they may all be right.  Or they may all be wrong.  

My answer?  It depends.  It’s actually up to you.

I’ll explain.

Yoga is old. Maybe 5,000 years (people disagree on this too).  It comes from a time and place where spiritual practice was an important part of life. It involved lots of different things, including meditation, chanting, devotional dance, symbolic rituals, and the study and memorization of sacred scriptures and mythologies.  Hence the colorful deities.  

The poses of yoga were used by early practitioners to prepare the body and mind for meditation.  Yoga poses also probably helped people counteract the effects of a physically difficult lifestyle, and people started using them to stay healthier and feel better in general.  Just like we do.

Their lives were not separated into categories labeled “work”, “spirituality”, and “exercise”.  It was all woven together.  It was all yoga.  So the practices, the mythologies, and the exercises all evolved together, fluidly and messily, as life goes.  Different regions adapted their practices in different ways, and there developed a wide-ranging abundance of styles and traditions.  Some were more physical, some more spiritual, some a mix of both.  

When yoga arrived in the West in the late 1800s, us westerners simply continued this messy and widespread adapting.  Some people stuck to the most traditional path they could find.  Others changed their yoga practices to meet modern needs and desires.  Some chanted around statues of deities, some practiced the poses, some sat in silent meditation.  Some did all these things, and in different ways. People argued, as people will, about which practices were better and how exactly they should be performed.

So back to my “it depends” answer.  

Each god or goddess represents a manifestation of the Divine within us.  Some are gentle, others are fierce.  There are deities that correspond to creativity, protection, nourishment; transformation.   They have their own stories and mantras and symbols.  Invoking a deity is a way of setting intention, of calling forth that type of energy in your practice.  Do you need inspiration?  You might call on Sarasvati.  Is something blocking your way?  Ganesha may be able to help.  It’s really just another way to look at life and personal growth.  

You may have heard that “yoga is more than the poses”.   You may take the same classes as your friend, but your path to accessing the deeper levels of yoga is uniquely yours.  It has to do with what kind of learner you are, your spiritual beliefs and background, your stage of life, and what tools work best for you. Yoga has techniques for all the ways we interact with and learn from the world - physical, intellectual, creative, intuitive, auditory, visual.  In the end, it doesn't really matter if colorful pictures of Eastern gods and goddesses are your thing or not.  Your yoga is yours, and if you honor it your way, it will work for you.

At least, that's what I think.  But someone is bound to argue with me. 😉

homesick

So I'm in Texas.  I come here every year to visit my family.  I'm not from the Lone Star State myself, but have spent many weeks and months of my life here.

Texas has always been a sanctuary for me.  My respite from jobs, schedules, and difficult relationships.  The place where I felt loved unconditionally, cared for by a family who was uncritical and happy to see me.  I slept blissfully, comforted by the musty scent of my father's house and the rhythmic symphony of crickets and cicadas.  If my life fell apart for some reason, I always knew I could run to Texas.

But for the first time ever, I'm really, truly homesick here.  If I wrote a country song right now, it would be about driving my old pickup truck right back to Colorado.  I'd leave my dusty boots outside the practice room of the yoga studio, along with my big gold belt buckle with the "Om" symbol in the middle.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Texas.  The rich, hot outdoors packed with wildlife, the giant succulents, the beautiful bigness of everything.  The lakes you can lose yourself on in a boat and swim in without freezing to death.  The friendliness of strangers, the Mexican food, the cowboys and the kind Southern ladies with their big hair and Diet Cokes.  It's just different somehow.

As Thomas Wolfe says, you can't go home again.  I miss the Texas I used to love, but it has changed and so have I.   We are like old lovers who have grown apart but still care for one another, our hearts warm with bittersweet nostalgia.   I have come to believe that my only real home is that ever-evolving thing we call yoga practice.  That perhaps all our suffering is simply homesickness for a deeper connection to the Divine.  And when we truly connect, when I am in that place in me and you are in that place in you, well, we are one.  So Namaste for now, y'all.  I'll see you there, whenever we both arrive.

Colorado Springs, Yoga Sanctuary

 Old hometown acquaintance: "So, where do you live these days?"

Me, smiling: "Colorado Springs."

Acquaintance, visibly confused: "Oh...huh...do you, uh like it there?"

I know what he's thinking.  What kind of kale-eating, composting, bohemian yoga teacher lives in Colorado Springs?  And talks about it without crinkling her nose?

I can't be too offended, though, since I felt the same way before I lived here.  I came here under mild duress (a story for another day), and pretty much figured I had arrived in a camo-colored exile governed by hate-preaching dictators.  In hindsight, I'm not sure why I made this assumption.  I had never actually spent any time here.  

It appeared I would be stuck here awhile, so I sucked it up and decided to meet some people. I took my then-baby to a La Leche League meeting.   This was where my stereotypes began to break.  I was expecting homogeneity and intolerance. And that, as I longed to tell my old acquaintance, is not at all what I got.  There were mamas of wildly varied ages, ethnicities; religious and political perspectives. These categories clearly meant nothing to them. They were feeding babies together.  Without a twinge of judgment.  I began observing this phenomenon - radical tolerance - everywhere I went in the city.  

So the answer is a vehement yes.  Yes I do like it here.  Very much.  Colorado Springs has healed my life and given me more opportunities than I thought possible.  Living here has taught me to set aside my opinions and look into the hearts of those in my midst.  We have all kinds of people here, and we get along just fine.  We help each other in times of crisis and work together to fix trails and help homeless citizens.

We are also doing yoga - lots of it.  There are dozens of active studios, and every gym offers a full menu of yoga classes. You can go to a kirtan just as easily as you can take a fitness yoga class.  We bring yoga into our schools from elementary to university, to libraries, parks, corporate offices, hospitals, assisted living facilities, military bases, treatment centers, and so much more.  Local yoga teachers are training to serve wounded veterans and to support PTSD recovery through mindfulness practices.  Our yoga community facilitates healing for those affected by abuse, trauma, addiction and eating disorders.

Yoga teaches us, repeatedly, that we are not our bodies, not our experiences, not our identities.  That our true Selves are something much greater and much more unified.  In this space we embody the literal meaning of "yoga" - "to yoke" or "to join together".  If we fail to welcome those who vote or pray differently, we miss the whole point.

The typical stereotype of Colorado Springs is misguided, based on a few national news items and some now-defunct religious leadership.  This is where walls are torn down, not built.  It's where hippies and soldiers put their mats side by side, and bow to one another with a Namaste after class. No kidding.  And if that isn't creating change in the world, I don't know what is.

there's no crying in...well, sometimes there's crying

There’s no crying in yoga.  

Wait, no, that’s baseball.   I’ve seen plenty of people cry in yoga.  I’ve cried in yoga.  Actually, I cried in yoga today.

It came as a surprise, just a simple, spontaneous, child’s pose at the end of my savasana.  After a practice that felt pretty good.  But I had to face it – I’d been in a bona fide slump.  The slump is filled with self-doubt and anxiety.  It happens in occasional cycles, often following something I perceive as a personal failure or mistake.  The slump awakens my dormant inner naysayer, who chides me with criticisms of my performance and questions my self-worth.  It’s a mean, condescending voice.  It wants me to be small. 

Thankfully, there are other voices in the room.  The voice of my instructor reminds me gently to breathe, to be present, to acknowledge my thoughts and surrender them.  Her gentle adjustments guide my body to hold these intentions.  From here awakens the voice of my inner teacher, which is not linked to my success or failure.   I remember the passing nature of these sensations.  I recall the knowledge that all good things take time, that challenges are but stepping stones on the journey, that I make mistakes because I’m willing to try, and that being small does not serve my higher purpose.  It tells me I can offer the gift of grace to myself and others.

It’s just another way to practice yoga. In the past, I might have run from that discomfort, distracting myself with food, alcohol or some form of chatter.  I might have intensified the slump, thinking something was even more wrong with me for feeling this way.  But now - through practice - I can breathe into the tears, into that doubtful, grieving place and allow it to be.  When it passes, I am lighter.  For now, the voice of the slump is gone.

In its place is gratitude.

 You are very close to the Divine. The perfection you are seeking is as close as your breath.  It is only because we get caught in a state of dualism that we feel separate from that experience.  

-          Sri Shambhavananda, from Spontaneous Recognition

the littlest yogis

Children always seemed  like a mystery to me - at least since whenever it was that I stopped thinking of myself as a child.   I was both fascinated and slightly afraid of them, never quite sure how to react to their frank lines of questioning and contextually absent statements.

Then I had one of my own, and the universe of children began to unfold upon me.  And, as a dedicated yogi, I decided that yoga should be a part of this universe.  Somehow.

So I read books and took classes.  Baby yoga was fun, though I often found myself doing more nursing than yoga postures.  I decided to practice baby-feeding as a form of devotional yoga (consequently I learned this is in fact true of all motherhood's responsibilities).

As my baby girl turned into a toddler, we tried all kinds of yoga classes and videos.   These sessions usually included me being climbed on a lot, my daughter doing all kinds of cute and laughable things, and a very wiggly savasana.  Sometimes I wondered if she was learning any yoga, or if I was doing any yoga.  Our joint practice was distracted and silly, sometimes frustrating, and we never looked like the photos in our toddler yoga books.  But we were having fun and bonding together, so I kept it up.

I have taught yoga to preschoolers for nearly 3 years now, and it is as playful and fun as ever.  Young children take naturally to the postures of yoga, their bodies still relaxed and flexible.  Practicing with their beloved adults gives them valuable bonding time and gently accustoms them to the dynamics of a group class.  Yoga teaches them, little by little, to be aware of themselves within and without.  As they grow and learn to focus, their yoga practice will follow.  And in the midst of the silliness, there are always moments of bliss - there are all kinds of sweet cuddles, kisses and "I love you" moments that happen on the mat.

My now-5-year-old takes yoga for granted in her life.  The effects of her playful practice are evident in her lovely posture, her ability to focus in her kindergarten class, and her keen self-awareness.  She will leave half a cookie uneaten because she "doesn't want to get a tummy ache", and sometimes asks to leave a party because she feels she " needs to rest a little bit".   I can't guarantee these results for all children, or presume that my daughter will not still struggle with balance in her life as she grows up.  I can say, with confidence, that yoga makes a difference in a child's life, just as it does in yours.

Be well, and practice on.

Om Tat Sat (You are the Divine)

practice imperfect

I recently spent several weeks with family in another state, helping my dad recover from surgery and getting to know my newborn nephew.  My 5 year old daughter accompanied me, and I spent the majority of my vacation caring for others.  On this type of trip, there are no opportunities to hit a local yoga class or roll out a mat in a quiet, private room.  The challenges to yoga practice are huge – time, space, never being alone.  What’s a dedicated yogi to do?  It was time to embrace the imperfect practice.

Should you find yourself in a similar situation, be it long or short term, here is my advice:  In the imperfect practice, we can let go of our routines and expectations.  Do hatha yoga whenever you get the chance, perhaps in the living room with children climbing on you (this is a great way to step up your chaturanga!).  Stop every 5 minutes or so to change a diaper, get someone a glass of water, or help a small child put clothes on a stuffed dinosaur.   Notice that you are still breathing in and out.  Draw your awareness within.  Practice pranayama in medical waiting rooms, while coloring pictures of Strawberry Shortcake.   Meditate, if briefly, after everyone is asleep, just before you pass out in exhaustion.  Drink lots of water and eat as healthfully as you can. Prepare healthy food for your loved ones too.  Sing mantras to yourself as you cook.  Politely decline donuts and burgers.   If you can get out for half an hour, go for a walk or a run.  Focus on your breath and feel the rhythm of your feet.  Let the routine motions of your body become moving meditations.  Send love daily to loved ones who are suffering.  Find gratitude in your ability to serve from a place of strength and clarity.  Don’t worry that you will backslide in the amazing asanas you’ve worked so hard to cultivate.  Your imperfect practice will hold the door open for you until you return.

Letting go of your practice in this way is a practice in itself.   It is here you have the practical opportunity to focus on the higher principles of yoga.  You’ve read them in your yoga books and used them as intentions in your classes:  Aparigraha -non-grasping.  Santosha - contentment.   Ishvara-pranidhana – devotion to a higher cause.   In times of difficulty you are called to put these concepts into motion.  Trust in your higher Self.  This is what your time on the mat has prepared you for, and the Universe knows you are ready to accept the challenge. 

* To family members I visited on this trip - I absolutely cherished this time together.  It really was a gift, and not a burden, to be able to help and serve those I love.  Your love and acceptance kept me strong and happy more than anything and I wish I was with you all the time.  Just in case you were wondering. :)