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“The Yoga That Destroys Sorrow”
“For him who is moderate in food and play, moderate in performing actons, moderate in sleep and waking, for him is the yoga which destroys sorrow.” Bhagavad Gita, 6.18 (trans. Gitartha Samgraha, in Abhinavagupta’s Commentary on the Bhagavad Gita).
Food here, of course, is more than what we put into our mouth. It is everything that comes in through the senses. Play, too, is beyond what we do for “fun” in this society. How much these words have kept their truth since written; what different meanings they carry in our time of technological marvels. What does “moderation” mean to us? Does moderation have an implicit relativeness?
Since I first read the Gita in high school, I have been contemplating this sloka and resonating with it. Now, I come back to it over and over again, as my understanding of the rest of the text deepens and my practice grows. It is still giving me food for thought. (Pun intended).
DC Area Drought Official
According to yesterday’s Washington Post, we are officially in a drought. We are short 7.3 inches of rain since October, 5 inches since January. The recent rain is merely returning to near normal rainfall and is not addressing the deficit. Please do what you can to conserve water. See previous post for some tips: https://rosegardenyoga.com/2009/02/rain-not-quite-enough/
Please comment to share your own water saving tips.
Okra Germinated; First Roses Opened
First flower on a cherry tomato appeared overnight. Peppers are budding. They all like the heat. Dill is going yellow around the edges already. It does not like the heat. One of the things I love most about gardening is noticing what thrives to excess and what struggles, depending on the weather patterns. With the right balance of plants, there will always be a bumper crop of something (both edible and ornamental). Eating locally, with consciousness acknowledgement of the limits of space and time in an affirming way, requires accepting what are the crops of the year and being creative with them rather than finding a recipe and insisting that the ingredients be available to the detriment of flavor, pocketbook, and environment.
Fostering such a relationship to my garden and my food helps me also accept that although I can grow and shift, I ultimately cannot change certain fundamental things about myself. It is better radically to affirm what I have been given than to try and contort myself into something that it seems society (Heideggerian “they”) would prefer.
Robin Redbreasts (and the importance of sequencing in time and space)
I am working from home today. I looked out of my window and saw a flurry of birds going from one roof to another. There were the usual starlings, but among them were five robin redbreasts. They definitely do not belong here this time of year. Instead of getting the usual song in my heart from the first sighting of the robin redbreast of spring, I am filled with concern. What are they doing here? Will they survive? How can they get worms out of the frozen ground? Have they been confused by the warming pattern over the last several years?
I know that the robins are out of place here this time of year from a combination of learning and observing over the years what is supposed to be their season in this part of the world. So too with many things that at one time a place, a practice, a relationship will serve and another will take us away from what is optimal. As with yoga practice, we learn for ourselves and what is around us, what is optimal when and where, by a combination of study and practice.
There were also a few gulls. We see those around town sometimes because of the tidal basin, but not usually here in my back alley. Is there some kind of special bird conference going on that I was privileged to witness?
Snow and Blossoms (Morning Walk via the Capitol to Dupont Circle)
I got out of the house by 7:30 this morning because I knew the dusting of snow would not last long, and I wanted to enjoy the combination of blossoms and snow making every thing vibrate with beauty. I was not disappointed. The sun started to come out just after I had fully circumnavigated the Capitol. By the time I got to Lafayette Square, the snow was all melted, but the blossoms sparkled even more. It was such a glorious walk through the neighborhood, I was quite ecstatic, and at one point, I thought perhaps I was hallucinating when I first crested the Capitol grounds around 8am; from loudspeakers on the Mall (presumably there for Cherry Blossom Festival events), someone was blaring the Clash, singing “Should I Stay or Should I Go?”
Could I really have been hearing the Clash being broadcast on the National Mall at 8am on a Sunday morning? I remembered thinking we were making a statement when we blared the Sex Pistols as we drove across the 14th Street bridge towards the Capitol on July 4rh in the mid-80s. I remembered how disappointed my friends and I were when Joey Strummer disappeared the year I was living in London, and we didn’t get to see the Clash in Brixton. I allowed the flood of memories to rush in and then fade with the music. I thought of all the years I have been walking around this city, and how many times it has snowed while the blossoms are in bloom–more frequent than one might think.
I watched the melting snow start to glitter in the sun and the blossoms vibrating with their ephemeral beauty. And then I walked on through downtown, past the White House, and up to Dupont Circle, stopping to buy apples and mushrooms at the Dupont Fresh Farm Market before attending meeting for worship at Friends Meeting of Washington.


