What does the fourth of July mean to you? How do you integrate the yoga and/or other spiritual practices into your duties (I would call this part of our dharma) as a citizen (this is different than the wise separation of church and state)?
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
In classical yoga, maya is the illusion that the tangible world is what is real. Only atman is real; the world we experience through our senses (and our senses them selves) as reality is an illusion. We renounce the world to escape the temptation of being drawn into it as reality. In so doing, though, we ineluctably must come to the conclusion that all that is ill with the world is as much an illusion as that which is tempting. In turning away from the world we would be also turning away from the pain of seeing inequity and suffering and the desire to seek change in the tangible, sense-experienced world.
As I was walking around New York City, ankle-deep in slush and being hyper-stimulated by the lights and the noise and the smells and the bustle and the choices, I found myself thinking about maya and that in its classical sense has two surface temptations for me. The first is the temptation to turn away from the stimulation, to reject consumption of more than needed to exist. In the face of such excessive stimulation, the idea of nothing, of utter simplicity, of quiet seems desirable. If the turning away is another form of seeking pleasure or escaping pain, though, it is still in the trap of maya — the worldly illusion that binds us in the pair of opposites–pleasure and pain. The second temptation, the temptation to withdraw from everything except seeking the light within, is more subtle. If we truly are to turn away from the world of the senses, we turn away from notions of justice and equality and freedom that are based how we live in the material world as much as we turn away from consumption.
The true path of renunciation, of pure meditation, is a rare and beautiful path, but to stay in the world and to withdraw ineffectually in such a way might earn the hackneyed epithet “navel gazing.” My path is not that of the renunciate yogin, nor do I have the fortitude to live a life of Christian poverty, which would reject riches and live for service. Where can we find the support in the yoga path to stay engaged and yet still live mindfully, fostering the expression and recognition of spirit in ourselves and others?
In tantric philosophy, maya is understood somewhat differently than in classical yoga. The maya is not the world itself. When we think that getting and having and avoiding is all that there is and that it is separate from spirit, then our lives are cloaked by maya, and we are ignorant (avidya) of the true bliss of spirit (satcitananda). To know spirit, we must see through maya. To do that requires discrimination (viveka) in what we take into our senses and ethically responsible action in the tangible world to align our lives in a way that expands the opportunity to recognize spirit, which in my mind includes having less material disparity in society, which disparity most assuredly makes the essential truth of blissful consciousness more opaque (due to the play of maya) for both the haves and the have nots. While we make our attempt to live with more discrimination and grace and with less cause of conflict or suffering (doing better some times than others), we still try to recognize and savor the exquisite divine in each sight and taste and sound and creation. How extraordinary always is New York in all its wild manifestation!
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
One meaning of the phrase vinyasa krama is “the yoga of sequencing.” This is the art of knowing how to practice in an order that will be most optimal for where you are in space, time, and health in any given practice. Part of a true practice of vinyasa krama, like beautifully played music or an exquisitely presented music, is the silences and the pauses.
I’m sure you have all seen the “mind the gap” warning, the admonishment to notice the space between the train and the platform, the place where one thing ends and another begins. In that case, it is presented as a warning of danger, but it also can be seen just as an exhortation to be mindful.
When we are truly mindful of the space between things — both spatially and temporally — then we are better able to honor what has just come and to be open and conscious for what is to come.
In our yoga practice, noticing the space between coming in and coming out of the pose helps keep us aligned in the transition and enables us to better reap and experience the benefits of the pose. The reason we are advised always to practice savasana at the end of any practice is so that we will have a good pause between a practice and going back to our other activities.
Off the mat, taking time to pause in between thoughts and activities, helps us appreciate little moments of joy during a busy day. It also helps us sequence our day more optimally and can prevent mistakes and misalignments by giving us time to be more aware of what will work best next.
I don’t want to see the pictures. I don’t want to read the news, but putting my head in the sand will not eliminate the existence of the tragedy. Those of you who have read this blog regularly, know that in my own comfortable middle class way, I am seeking to reduce my energy consumption. As I write, a contractor is replacing my old rubber roof with TPO roofing (“cool roofing”). My old black rubber roof has been needing repairs for the past few years. I am working with another group to get solar panels installed, and I needed to replace the roof first. I hope this will make things more comfortable and reduce my footprint. (Yes, I know the only way truly to do it, is to live in a whole different way).
