The rain was just beginning to get heavy after a dusting of snow, and the wind was picking up. This time last year, I was looking at the bright colors of India. What was consistent was sitting for meditation.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
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One of my favorite fairy tales is the one about the traveler who teaches the old woman how to make “nail soup.” It is a cold, wintry night in the forest, and a traveler comes upon a hut. He knocks on the door and asks for shelter. The old woman who lives in the hut says he can sleep in the shed, but she cannot give him any food. The traveler thanks her for providing shelter. He says he does not need food, but if she lets him in by the fire, he will show her how to make soup from a nail. The woman, who is rather miserly, is excited by the idea of being able to make soup from a nail, so she lets him in and puts a big soup pot filled with snow to melt over the fire. The traveler puts the nail in the soup and says, “what a wonderful broth we will have from this nail. If we only had a potato or two, it would be even better.” The woman roots around in her hoard and puts a potato in the pot. “Now it will be even more wonderful,” said the traveler. “If we only had an onion to add, it would be the most savory soup you have ever tasted.” The woman goes to her winter stores and finds an onion. The traveler sniffs the soup, “mmm, how wonderful it smells, if we had a carrot or a parsnip, it would be gracious enough for any guest.” The woman, trembling with the excitement of creating soup from a nail, adds both a carrot and a parsnip. At this point, the broth is starting to take on thickness and color, and the hut is redolent of bubbling hot vegetable soup. “Oh for some salt and a little meat,” cried the man, “and this soup would truly be fit for a king.” “From only a nail, soup fit for a king!” exclaimed the old woman, “that I must have.” She added a precious pinch of salt and some meat dried to last through the winter. The soup, of course, was delicious, the traveler well-fed, and the woman happy to share (even if she was tricked).
Sometimes we need a reminder of our abundance, both inner and outer, to be invited to bring out all we have so that we can better serve. Just as the traveler with the nail reminded the isolated old woman of how to share her abundance, sometimes we need to remind ourselves of what we have rather than what we are missing. I find that when I am feeling more empty than full, coming to my mat and my meditation cushion and practicing gratitude quickly helps me remember.
I don’t have much family, and I know little about the family I have. I am the one living with this photograph (the only one I’ve seen) of my maternal great grandmother because we are the only two with frizzy hair. The story I heard about her was that she gave birth to my grandmother en route from Eastern Europe and carried her across the ocean to the lower East Side.
This Ganesha makes me think about that level of determination –what we can do when we figure out how to turn a rat into a ride.
Paul Muller-Ortega, who teaches philosophy and meditation from similar roots to those that inform Anusara yoga, spoke yesterday of the differences between the path of the renunciate and the path of the householder. He strongly stated that neither path was better. What he suggested, though, was that a householder will better flourish practicing yoga designed for the householder rather than attempting to practice renunciate techniques, while still staying in the householder path.
What does this mean? I think it means that we become unhappy and conflicted if we try attempt the practices of the path of complete non-attachment and transcendence of body and mind while we are still very much staying in society and responsible for family, work, and citizenship. The tantric, householder path, including that of the Shaivite tradition of Kashmir and Abhinavagupta, offers practices that enable one to live liberated in society, instead of suggesting that the only way to true liberation is to reject and transcend work, family, and community. In yoga terms, the householder path is one that realizes moksha (liberation), through ardha (physical and material well-being), kama (love/relationship), and dharma (right work/path) rather than by transcending them.
Taking the householder path does not mean just indulging. It still requires sensitivity, dedication, discrimination, and alignment. I think it may be even harder than renunciation. I know it is easier for me to just stay alone and practice, for example, than to bring yoga off my mat to how I work, consume, relate to others, and participate in society. The householder path, though, is the one for me.
I witnessed this family standing on the train platform while I was listening to a teleseminar from Paul Muller-Ortega on the “four stages of the word.” That a family dressed this way was waiting for the train gave rise to much thought for me about how I seek to integrate yoga practice into my daily life in a modern Western culture. How much is compromise or disservice to the “purity” of the teachings and how much of it is a part of a pulsing, growing, changing intersection of peoples and times?
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.