Heart Full

Video of the Global Mala Project, with glimpses of the unattached one.

This past week I participated in the Global Mala Project – Yoga for Peace. The first time I particpated was the year before last, with my then yoga teacher and now friend, Mia Baer. It was in Central Park, and it started at around 8am in the morning, far earlier then what I was use to waking up on the weekends. I remember the excitement of it, and the challenge, could I really do 108 Sun Salutations? I also didn’t really know what the event was all about, having just learned about it a couple days ago during Mia’s class. It was grueling. My practice, was still in it’s beginnings, and after about 20 sequences, I could feel my wrists giving under the weight.

I remember catching glimpses of the yogis around me, wondering how they managed it so effortlessly. And looking admirably at Mia, as she gracefully interspersed her sequences with a bakasana (crow) here, and a down dog split there. I discovered 40 sequences later where my mis-alignments lay — it was inevitable, those areas WILL begin to tire, and correcting them. I had begun to cultivate a deeper body awareness, knowing where I was needlessly “wasting” energy with unnecessary (e.g. wrist) flourishes, and instead began to look where I placing my feet, and how I was rising to Warrior I.
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The dharmas (parable like stories) in class are usually about general concepts. Sometimes, it’s about learning to breathe in the now, learning that it’s OK to take care of ourselves, how to be more present, more mindful. Generally, the closest I’ve experienced to religious tones in class are some of our chants, until the other day. Our instructor told us about devotion in the tale of Krishna and Radha . I wanted to share it, because I found it surprisingly moving. And couldn’t help but wonder if I could ever know, this kind of devotion.

Radha, was Krishna’s favorite amongst the gopis (cow girls). Krishna favored her not because she was beautiful, bright or even a good person. He favored her because of her unconditional devotion, the kind that would follow the object of its affection to whatever end, no questions asked. Eventually, he departed to guard virtue and truth, she waited for him. He fought countless battles, became a king and lord of he universe. Still she waited. He even married, Rukmini and Styabhama, raised a family, fought more wars, and still she watied.

On the one hand, I want to tell this woman to get a grip. On the other, I’m touched that her devotion symbolizes a soul yearning to be united with the universe, to know nirvana. And I know that if that is the level of devotion needed, then I just don’t have it in me, at least not now and probably not ever. I mean I can’t even maintain a consistent vegetarian diet, and I really want to. After a year and a half of practice, I don’t think I’m necessarily that much close to this kind of yearning, then I was the day I started. In fact the road seems so long and so difficult, that I’m inclined to not even start. Hence, my stagnating meditation practice.
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I went to a meditation workshop today at the Tibet House, led by Sharon Salzberg. I’d been looking forward to coming, the talk had received glowing reviews, and as an added bonus, I would be seeing my old friend Simon. There was a simple, inviting kind of warmth in the Tibet’s House. It reminded me of the warmth I often find in a yoga studio, the connection in sharing a space and practice.

I took off my shoes and entered the room, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting , but I was surprised to see the lecture style set up, chairs surrounding a small platform at the front. I suppose I’d become too accustomed to sitting in “my comfortable seat” on the floor. She started off with a quick introduction, her manner and voice were inviting, and maybe even a touch maternal. I could immediately tell, that despite the set up this would be more of a conversation than a lecture, I smiled. Wonderful. She then guided us through our first meditation, and I happily settled into the space and buttery quality of her voice.

Her lecture focused on loving kindness, where she delved into the Buddhisms five hindrances, and states of mindfulness. It was instructive, and exactly what I had been hoping for, just enough to understand without being overwhelmingly informative. Throughout the lecture, I couldn’t help but notice “yoga” terminology peppered throughout. Phrases suchas “energetically”, “mindful awareness”, even non-existent words like, “connectedness”. Which started my mind down the road of “what would my meditation practice be like without yoga?”

In the early days, yoga was not an end in and of itself, it was a means to help yogi’s develop a strong meditation practice, by creating a supple body that could sustain stillness for endless medtation sessions. Some of the meditation may be been lost in many of today’s yoga practices, but I couldn’t help but notice that coincidently the yoga was missing in today’s meditation practice.

She spoke of “walking” meditation, vs. seated meditation, and how to develop the disciple to meditate even when the environment was far from perfect. As we moved into our second (and last) guided meditation, I couldn’t help but become aware of the fidgeting noise around me. Movement caused by physical discomfort of having been in a hard seat for the past hour and a half. I tried to be yogic about it, as I labeled my thought as “judgment” and pressed on. But I know, that had it not been for yoga, I would have also been fidgeting in ways that would have antagonized Simon, and everyone else in a 5 body radius of me. And after all of these downward dogs, and suryanamaskaras I think i finally understood how yoga developed into such an intense practice, only with movement can you find stillness in a world of motion.

In yoga we are encouraged to investigate our world, to determine for ourselves if what we see and experience is satya (truth). In Patajali’s Yoga sutras he writes,” although destroyed for him who has attained liberation, it (the seen) still exists for others…” The heart of this sutra, Satchidananda reveals, is maya, the vedantic term for nature, illusion. But it is only illusion to those who have been liberated from it, the rest of us, are still experiencing a world heavily cloaked in illusion. Taking these lessons to heart, I’ve been trying to apply truthfulness in my life. I’ve been reevaluating my priorities, and I believed I was making painful progress towards the long road to enlightenment.

I found myself speaking calmly to friends and family about how change is natural, and that it was only our perceptions that was causing pain. The universe, I wisely observed, doesn’t bring good or bad, it’s our “maya” that brings these perceptions. I was sounding like a yogi, maybe I actually was the calm center of the life-storm. That calm center, half rolled, half fell out of bed on the fresh Sunday morning of March 9th, 2008. As usual, I was already running a few minutes late, I figured if I brushed my hair, teeth, and showered all at the same time, I should just make it “under the gun” as my teacher teases. I was ready in record time, my heart palpitating, my breath short and shallow, my mind focussed on the goal of making it to 86th and York in 15 minutes.

I stumbled through the door of New York Yoga. On the wall, I noticed the clock read, 8:17am, I had 3 more minutes before class, score! I scribbled my name and told the receptionist I was practicing. I don’t want to imagine what she thought I was practing, it wasn’t my breathing (pranayama). My clothes flew off me in the locker room. When I reached the studio door, I purposefully pushed through. I was surprised that the class was starting off in the dark, and the students were against the walls, in a kind of restorative pose. There was a palpable feeling of relaxation in the room, as if people were winding down. With as little disruptive noise as possible, I rolled out my mat. I was still catching my breath, and so proud of myself for having made it to class ON TIME, maybe even one minute to spare. My teacher was leading them through another restorative pose, and I tried to calm my mind, breathe into it, and let go. I was here now, and now I could begin yoga, “atha yoganusasanam“.

My teacher walked quietly over to me, smiling. I smiled back, still feeling proud that I managed not to be late. “Did you forget about day light savings time?” she asked. The maya in my mind swirled. How could this be? My whole carefully configured world, set to atomic time, experienced a massive failure. And all the signs were there. The dark room, the quiet relaxed atmosphere, the surprise I felt when I saw (just) one of the many clocks in my apartment showing AN HOUR LATE. All dismissed, because I believed so thoroughly in my maya. I looked through embarrassed eyes around the room, everyone was relaxing, only Alex, pixie Alex looked at me and smiled sympathetically. Opting not to do the Scooby-Doo tiptoe out the door, K put a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you can stay and take or assist the next class.” My cheeks blushed so deeply, I think they actually swelled, thankfully I’ve met real people, and made real friends in yoga, at least that’s not maya.