is part of the string of characters for one of my email accounts. Is it a sign or is it a coincidence (that I would be asked every day whether “shva” is one)? Is something still a sign even if we do not recognize it? Is something a sign if we read it as one even if no meaning was intended? Do we deepen or diminish our understanding by naming thoughts?
This morning, after my morning beach walk, as usual, one of the men at the storefront for an adventure business that’s on the corner before the house I’m staying at called out his usual “hey beautiful lady” thing. I responded to him in Spanish, and we ended up talking for a while.
He asked about my Spanish, as most visitors here (even those who’ve bought condos) don’t seem to have much of the language. I said I’d started studying last year; I was spurred by the current political climate to become competent in Spanish to open opportunities for me to be of service.
In response, he told me that he’d lived in California for over 25 years; his three children were born in the United States. They are still in the US, but he, last year, was sent back to Mexico pursuant to the present administration’s policies.
Later in the day, when I was walking out with my yoga teacher and friends, he greeted us with friendliness, not just the typical marketing greeting.
When I get more capable, I hope to find a way to be of greater service, but expanding the opportunities for friendliness seems a decent start.
Below is a picture of what I’m pretty sure is a curlew (birding experts, please comment and advise) eating an immature crab that I watched in the morning.
One of the aims of yoga, according to Patanjali’s classic eight-limbed path of yoga, is to be free from being torn between the pairs of opposites — pleasure and pain. We cannot be free if we are always grasping at pleasure or acting to avoid pain. From a tantric perspective, we are not trying to disengage or transcend body and mind and the natural arising of pleasure and pain, but we still want to be engaged without an attachment or aversion that leads us into entanglement and suffering rather than towards openness and light.
One of the kleshas (afflictions) is dvesa, which can be translated as hate, dislike, abhorrence, enmity, avoidance. Why wouldn’t we want just to avoid something that we dislike? Sometimes we have no choice, and one of the benefits of yoga is helping us make peace with having to face or be engaged with things that are painful or distasteful.
I often hear students say, “I hate [insert name of pose].” Last night, I heard it twice. I am no stranger to the “I have to go to the bathroom poses,” the poses which are so challenging or uncomfortable, that I feel the need to leave the room. One of the most profound ways I have grown with yoga, though, is staying present for the poses that did not initially appeal to me, usually those that pushed my fear, trust, strength, anxiety, worthiness buttons. One of the obvious superficial benefits of staying present and practicing the “I hate” poses is that they can yield an extra sense of accomplishment when we get them. We can also learn more about our friends and colleagues by starting to understand why the poses are the ones that naturally draw them and thus expand our perspective on the fullness of life.
For example, arm balances are still most challenging for me, partly because I am more flexible than I am strong, and partly because I am fearful of falling. I’ve started to appreciate how another person could be drawn to them for the exhilaration, the rush of danger, the excitement, the challenge, the very topsy-turvyness of the poses, although those aren’t sensations to which I am naturally drawn. But I have learned how much practicing arm balances fuels the energy in my core and heart and when I get them, what it must feel like to fly.
The teacher’s duty (and I have been blessed with wonderful teachers who have given me this gift) is to offer the full range of experiences (within the parameters of the class level, style of yoga, and class description), so that every student gets to practice both favorites and least favorites. This is not so much to make sure that every student gets a favorite sometimes and so is happy in the class when the favorite shows up, but so that the students are invited to be present, grounded, and open to his or her own light through the full range of delights and challenges. On a day when I just get my favorites, I feel like I have been to the spa. The real pleasure from yoga has been from the challenging poses over the long term. It has been steadily coming to the challenge that has started easing my reactions off the mat to the inevitable challenges, pain, and losses of a full and active life. In being less reactive to challenges, I also find I crave specific pleasures less, and so enjoy the pleasures that come all the more.
Yoga home practice challenge: pick one pose for which the phrase, “I hate…” usually proceeds it and make it an element of your weekly home practice for a month. Witness your reactions on and off the mat. Enjoy what happens next time the pose comes up in a class. Maybe the phrase “I hate” will stop arising as soon as you hear the teacher name the pose.
I got a ride home from the John Friend workshop in Bryn Athyn with my friend, colleague, and student Jen. Jen’s husband, who is a dance professor at a local college, and her three-year old daughter came up to Philadelphia and visited friends during the day while we were at the workshop. For the initial part of the road trip home, we sang several rounds of “if you are happy and you know it clap your feet,” a days of the week song, a counting song that involved a wiggle (or was it a wriggle) and a jump, the alphabet, and I think maybe “loop-de-loop,” and had some snacks, after which Jen’s daughter moved into silence and then sleep. Before moving into silence ourselves, we spent some time talking about what we had learned and experienced at the workshop.
“Do you have any good sound bites from the weekend?” Jen’s husband asked. I said I did not have any particular sound bites per se, although there were a few things that would definitely provide inspiration for teaching and blogging. “I have a good one that I think will make sense to you,” said Jen. “John said that we can use technique to express the virtue we wish to embody.” What I liked about the statement is that it put in universal terms that would appeal to a dancer and dance professor, or anyone who understands how technique assists the clarity of artistic expression, an essential element of the yoga philosophy and Anusara principles without requiring prior knowledge of the philosophy or principles.
The statement is an encapsulation of the “three A’s of Anusara” — “attitude, alignment, and action,” which are the essence of practice (also see my previous post on how these principles correspond to the tattvas). We always seek in every part of our practice and in every pose to open to grace, to soften and receive, to be open to the fullness of life and love, to see and reveal the good. This is our “attitude.” The universal principles of alignment are technique. They are not just technique for the sake of perfecting technique, to discipline ourselves, or to make ourselves or our practice “correct.” Rather, learning and practicing the alignment principles in an ever deeper and more refined way enable us to express more clearly and elegantly our attitude — in a word, embody the virtue of being open to grace.
The songs we were singing in the beginning of the car ride, with an attitude of delight, also can serve the purpose of helping a child naturally to embody virtue. Jen’s daughter was having fun with the sing-along toy. She wasn’t singing because she needed to learn numbers, days of the week, and the alphabet to pass a test or to make sure she was right or to please her parents. They were cheerful and fun for her. When she sang along, it was out of delight. She was, though, learning beginning language and arithmetic skills that will help her communicate and get on better in society. As she grows older, in the absence of these skills, it would be hard for her to express her joyous spirit in a way that deepens conversation, relationship, and ability to participate fully in the obligations of society. When we learn technique — in whatever area — we will be furthering our ability to embody virtue if we use the technique to enhance our skills to work for, offer, and express peace, love, nurture, and growth, rather than learning technique for the sake of accomplishment, worthiness of praise or remuneration, or needing to be correct.
We may not be able to change much of what we get in life–where and when we were born, certain innate talents and physical attributes, but we have the choice at every moment what we will create with what we have been given.
Will we create beauty and happiness where we can? The point of the yoga practices, I think and have been taught, is to lead us to choose what best serves more and more often.
For example, I cannot create a monumental sculpture if the only art material I have is a point and shoot camera. I could do nothing but lament my lack of resources, or I can still make art.
What do you choose with what you have?
Several months ago, I started rereading books that I believed had contributed deeply to what I believe, how I think, how I write, what are my political views, and how I relate to other people, work, and the world in general. Part of my intention, which is still evolving along with my reading, was to explore how I got involved in yoga and how I could have become involved in a yoga community that imploded so explosively. The reading project is giving much opportunity for deep contemplation.
In honor of Jack Keroac’s birthday, the Library of Congress posted on Facebook, this list of 100 books that shaped America. I’m not sure I could get my list down to a 100 books and lots on my list are by non-American authors, but this list certainly resonates–especially the 1950-2000 section. And yes, On the Road is on my personal list and certainly is part of my road to yoga, along with other writings by the Beats.
How many of these have you read? How many of these have you read recently. How do you think your childhood and young adult reading influenced the way you practice and think about yoga?
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Mu
shva is an encryption method.
When you see ?shva=1 behind a link the site probably uses shva encryption technology.
Cheers
No thomas, it’s not an encryption method. The encryption method you mean is called “sha”, encryption method just like md5, sfv, md4 and others.
So we have no idea what it means
it could mean shared variable as well.. i mean SHared VAriable .. 🙂 just a guess 🙂
shared mu
what is shared mu?
I believe shva is the Hebrew vowel which essentially means the “absence of vowel”. Saying shva=1 is like saying “mu” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mu_(negative)). Of course it could be referring to Shiva, the Auspicious One. It could mean both, or neither. Mu.
It means “Secure Host Verification and Authentication”