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Learning From Our Demons (Hanuman Leaps to Lanka)

Last month, Sianna Sherman taught a weekend workshop at Willow Street Yoga.  At the beginning of one of the segments of the workshop, she talked about the story of the monkey god Hanuman and his leap to Lanka (he did this to rescue Sita, who had been abducted by her own demons.  Sita sent Hanuman back to India without her, asking Hanuman where was Ram, but that’s a whole different thread in the Ramayana.)

The first demon Hanuman encountered was Mainaka, a golden mountain who rose up out of the sea.  She gave Hanuman a place to rest.  She was helper.  But she was also demon in that she wanted Hanuman to stay and rest with her and to give up his journey.  Some of the stories characterize Mainaka only as a helper, and not as a demon.  If Hanuman had become stuck in the comfort Mainaka offered, though, and failed in his journey, she would have been for him the demon of complacency.  The question Sianna left with us to consider about Mainaka was where have we been too comfortable?  Where do we need to express gratitude and appreciation, but move on?

The second demon, Surasa, was a fierce water serpent who emerged from the water to swallow Hanuman up as he was flying over the ocean.  To escape, he first tried making himself so big that she Surasa could not swallow him, but she just opened her mouth wider and wider, gnashing at him with her razor-sharp teeth.   Hanuman escaped by then shrinking himself to the size of a dust mote and flying out from between Surasa’s teeth.  Being able to make himself immense was one of the powers he needed to be able to fight the various demons, but he needed also to be willing and able to make himself small to complete the journey.  He would have been stuck if he had not been capable of taking on different shapes and approaching things from different perspectives.  Surasa may have tried to swallow him up, but she also taught him perspective.  “Are there places where you could use more perspective?” asked Sianna.

The third demon , Sinhaka, at least according to some versions, tried to eat Hanuman’s shadow.  Inseparable from his shadow, the only way to escape was to turn back to face and claim his shadow as his own to battle Sinhaka.  Running away would have just kept Sinhaka champing at his tail and dragging him back from success.  We have to recognize and face our shadows in order to be complete and to understand the full spectrum of being.  We were invited to ask whether there were particular fears from which we were running.

What stayed with me, and has me still thinking about the workshop, was that the emphasis was on treating ourselves and the obstacles we face on and off the mat with compassion.  We often give lip service in Western tantra to seeing the good or the necessary in our demons.  For example, whereas classical yoga thinks desire needs to be eradicated, tantra recognizes both that we would not get out of bed in the morning without it and that desire is what can lead us to practice and seek spiritual connection.  When we can truly look at our demons (both our own personal ones and those we see in both wider and more intimate relationships), our demons are not evidently nor necessarily to be slain or eschewed or to be seen as only malignant or pestilent.   When we approach our own demons and those of others with true compassion, we open the possibility of change through deeper awareness, connection, and recognition of humanity.

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    Shiva Nataraja

    This murti of Nataraja has been in the window of a store near where I work for at least 20 years. I often walk past is and just as often stop to admire it. I have never really considered taking it home, lovely as it is. The murti is simply too large for any of my rooms. I have mentioned its needing a home to a couple of different friends, who were looking for large murtis of Nataraja, over the past few months, but none have followed through.

    Today, when I was walking past it on a lunchtime walk to the bank, I noticed a “commercial property for rent” sign in the window. I will miss having this resplendent image in my work neighborhood, but not enough to buy it and bring it home. I decided, though, to take a photograph. I know the owner only very casually, but well enough to know he is retiring, rather than being driven out by rising rental costs or the recession. The neighborhood has gotten trendier since Nataraja first appeared in the window. Nataraja might be replaced with a delicious restaurant or a fabulous store purveying things that entice me. Or the space could stay vacant or be used for something that holds no interest for me whatsoever.

    Nataraja–lord of the dance of concealment and revelation, of dissolution and manifestation–is dancing here. The murti will be sold or transported away when the shop closes and will physically be gone.

    I will have my memories of the image, a photograph I took with my BlackBerry, and will have had a sweet opportunity to observe the lord of the dance dancing away his own image.

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    The Svadharma of the Pinky Toe (and Radical Affirmation)

    Svadharma, from sva (self) and dharma (duty) means our personal path, duty, calling, or place.  The principle of svadharma is a significant teaching in various yoga texts, such as the Bhagavad Gita, especially emphasizing the importance in acting in accordance with one’s caste (for example, Arjuna needing to act in accordance with his dharma as a warrior) or one’s sex (consider Sita’s role in the Ramayana).

    Extrapolating this teaching and taking it onto the mat, during one of the practice sessions the previous week at the Certified Teachers’ Gathering, John Friend said that “every part of the the body has its own svadharma to increase the pranic flow.”  He then said that if you just took a photo of the feet of an Anusara yoga practitioner in any pose, you should be able to see that the whole body was fully engaged and active.  John Friend’s teaching here was not just using the yoga philosophy as a catalyst to better understand the body.  By using the principle to illuminate the practice, the practice reflectively illuminated the principle itself, without denying or denigrating its original context or getting bogged down in its historical baggage of perpetuating the caste system and demarcated, subservient roles for women.

    Thinking about the svadharma of the pinky toe has no such baggage.  The pinky toes are homely looking things, they do not fit well into most women’s shoes, they rather painfully bump into things, and they are hard to move independently.  They are not essential for living and do not have the emotional charge of the heart and brain, the exquisite connection to the world of the sense organs, or the connection to life itself of the lungs.  Despite this, the call to lift and spread the toes, to draw the pinky toe toward the heel, or the hip happens just about every time I go to the mat in my practice or teach a class.  Activating the pinky toe by opening it and spreading it apart from the other toes is a conscious act of opening that helps hug the shins to the midline.  In hugging the shins in by means of activating the pinky toe, the yogi on the mat can then safely move the thighs back and apart, creating an expansion of the pelvic floor that provides room for more strongly tucking under the tailbone to access core power.  The pinky toe thus is an important part of our practice, even if we could manage to get by without it.

    But the svadharma of the pinky toe on the mat is not just to be able to help us access the movement of “shins in” so that we can better do “thighs out,” although that is an important physical part of its essence.  The toe does not move on its own.  We have to start by bringing our awareness and consciousness to the toe.  Part of the pinky toe’s svadharma, then, is to invite the infusion of consciousness to show how full participation of even an apparently insignificant part of the body can lead us to a better understanding and personal experience of the pulsation between reaching out and hugging in and affirming ourselves.   By intentionally bringing our awareness to the power we can unleash in the pose by the movement of the pinky toe, we bring the opportunity for greater strength, expansion, and flow of energies.  This is why, I think, John Friend suggested that by just seeing the toes we should be able to know the engagement of the whole body and mind in a particular pose.

    As a practical and therapeutic matter, recognizing and bringing into play the svadharma of each and every part of the body serves to help us increase the flow of energy and expand our range of movement.  In addition, activating the parts of the body that are inclined to slack (for example, the pinky toe or the adductor and abdominal muscles) will bring ease to the muscles that tend to overwork to compensate, such as the neck and low back muscles.  We are not just stronger and more flexible when every part of the body does fulfills its svadharma, but we eliminate much pain and suffering.  (More to come on this particular concept in other posts.)

    Off the mat, when all parts of the whole are fully conscious of and know their svadharma, the whole will itself have more consciousness, more light, and better experience the bliss of being.  It is easy to see, without judgment or question, that the pinky toe cannot do the work of the heart, although when the pinky toe is working it can help contribute to an integration of mind and body that will further the opening of the heart and thus the whole person.  Finding our svadharma as a whole person within society does not have to be about conforming to preconceived social norms that no longer serve.  The better we are able to understand where we are in time, space, and the interconnected web of being, though, the more fully we can participate in leading society itself to a more conscious and light-filled place, just as bringing our conscious awareness to the actions of the pinky toe can do the same for us as individual yogis on the mat.  When we recognize and live out our true svadharma as such, we radically affirm ourselves, the community, and the very essence of all being.

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    “There Are More Things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio…” (and DCLAW)

    Last night, at the invitation of my massage therapist, I attended the third DC Ladies Arm Wrestling tournament at the American Legion Hall on Capitol Hill.  For those of you who know me–or suspect from reading my blog that you know me to some degree–going to the American Legion Hall for an evening of betting on arm-wrestling might seem just a teensy-weensy bit out of character, perhaps even something beyond anything I could have “dreamt of in my philosophy.”  Not so into wrestling or costumes or betting or bad beer or anything loud.  I am, though, completely into norm-bending, outrageous manifestations of spirit, of which this certainly and rollickingly is one.

     

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    It’s All Good?

    I’ve never understood the t-shirt saying that “it’s all good.”. It just isn’t. This morning I found myself near to tears reading the news of violence, greed, malice, and willful indifference.

    I do believe that we need to do our best to respond to everything we face with the greatest good we can offer. The ability to respond from spacious, illuminated awareness for the good and to discover the possibility of good in the most difficult and abhorrent is what yoga and meditation–or any other spiritual discipline–makes progressively more possible. No amount of yoga will make me love crisis, but it will make me better able to experience and offer love when in crisis, so I hope.

    Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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