Walk to William Penn House for Tuesday Night Yoga Practice
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Are You Wondering
why I did not post an entry about the sixth anniversary of the war in Iraq? I obviously care deeply about the need to end the war and to address the tragic aftermath at home and abroad. So why choose not to mark an anniversary? Why instead of marking a dire anniversary, celebrate spring? Sometimes, by celebrating something small in the midst of a crisis, we can give ourselves the grounding and energy to work harder to bring more light and to seek to end needless suffering.
I Don’t Get It Either
My friend Reya blogs that she doesn’t get it–why people don’t get massages on a more regular basis. Assuming one has enough money for the basic necessities of food and shelter, as Reya points out, I don’t get it either. When I tell people that I have been getting massages at least twice a month for the last decade, I get all sorts of reactions, lack of money and time being high on the list. I have had people, including those who claim to otherwise like touching and being touched, tell me that they don’t like getting massages.
What’s not to like about getting a massage from a qualified professional? I think it can be for any number of reasons. Sometimes it is about a deep-seated discomfort with pleasure (and especially the pleasure associated with touch), which is unfortunately all too common in this society (despite the preoccupation with sex). Discomfort with the idea of massage also can be about control.
On the surface, getting a massage is all about being passive, about surrendering physically–albeit in a very benign way. Allowing oneself to be in the role of pure recipient, though, is different than being passive or surrendering control. The person receiving the massage, though not actually doing the touching, is the person in charge (So too, in yoga. The person being assisted in a yoga pose or receiving a therapeutic adjustment is in charge, not the person assisting or making the adjustment; it takes knowing how to be a recipient, though, to know how to offer the assist or adjustment).
Even the most sensitive and compatible of massage therapists will need to be advised how you are doing on any particular day, whether any areas are feeling particularly sensitive, whether you feel the need for healing or energetic shifting in a particular area of your body. It takes a deep sensitivity and listening to the body and the energy field to know not just whether a massage feels good, but what could make it better. For example, because I tend to bruise easily, deep tissue massage generally is not the right type of massage for me. There are times, however, that something really deep needs to be rearranged and deep tissue, or even myofascial release, is the only thing that is going to be able to get at what is knotted or tangled or needs to be released. Sometimes, just about any touch would feel invasive, and then I seek out reiki or other treatment that is more in the energetic than the physical field.
I firmly believe that getting regular massages has truly enhanced my understanding of the physical and energetic body and has made me a far better yoga teacher–especially for students seeking therapeutic guidance from yoga. As well as being a pleasure, receiving a massage is an opportunity to get to know the anatomy and connections of the body at the most sensitive of levels–if one is willing to and does pay attention. And without deeply knowing one’s own body and its relationship to the outside world, including touch, how could one really be sensitive to what might be going on in another’s body?
Kvelling and Kvetching
It started before yesterday’s Tuesday night class. There was a piece of fuzz next to one of the students mats–a schmutz. We then decided that the yoga outfit, especially the old raggedy one, was a schmata. Tonight, I was in an uncharacteristically silly mood. With birds falling out of the sky, fish washing up on the shore, and the Republicans taking back “control” of the house, I could weep or I could find the laughter in small things. Tonight, with a practice theme of the Anusara’s “first principle” — opening to grace — I spontaneously and giddily came to the latter.
I mentioned the idea of yiddish for yogis, and the class took off. We were all women tonight, so it was “yoga for yentas.” The word one utters when going into the first forward bend of the practice, is of course, oy, which can be lengthened to oy vey is mir. When we are truly opening to grace, we are kvelling; when we are noticing our aches and pains and forgetting to move towards the good, we are then kvetching.
Just FYI, I learned after doing a cautious internet search before posting this blog entry, that it turns out that the phrase “Yiddish Yoga” has been trademarked. I am pretty certain we can still have fun talking about using yiddish vocabulary words in yoga class without violating any laws, though it has been over 20 years since I took class in copyright and trademark law. So feel free to think of your favorite yiddish word and how it should be used in yoga class. You never know how it will enhance your practice, for whom it will bring a smile or a laugh, and what other thoughts might arise. I’m pretty sure that there isn’t a yiddish equivalent for satcitananda, any more than there is an English equivalent for weltanschauung or schadenfreude, or a French word for sandwich, but at least one student wants to give it a try.
Home (and sauca)
It was wonderful to visit another city, to enjoy a change in climate and scenery, to see friends, and to study. I am happy to be home, though, even with the responsibilities and obligations. That I am always happy to come home from a trip away (even when I have gone to places perhaps more spectacular or interesting than where I live and met people who are able to do things that are outside of my reach) is one of the things that reminds me that my unassuming life suits me well enough. Part of this delight in coming home is my having for the past decade steadily practiced the principle of sauca or contentment.
I remember having a talk with a friend a number of years ago about practicing sauca. She expressed surprise that contentment could be a practice. She said she had always thought that happiness was something that just came to you. Happiness may come more easily to some than others, just as some are born with physical beauty or material comfort and others are not. It is my experience, though, assuming our basic needs are met, that by practicing sauca, we will be happier both with what we have chosen and what we have been given.
