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Found Exhortation
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An Excellent Sufficiency, Homegrown Tomatoes (and the Isha Upanishad)
The Isha Upanishad starts, “That is fullness (purna). This is fullness. Fullness comes from fullness. Take fullness from fullness, and the remainder is fullness.”
My maternal grandfather died when I was just a toddler, so I never got to know him. My mother used to tell us that when he had eaten enough at a bounteous meal, he would say “that was an excellent sufficiency and any more would be a superabundency.”
On Sunday I went over to Lovejoy Gardens to my little plot (approximately 3′ X 7′ raised bed on concrete, half shaded by a fence) and harvested tomatoes. There were about 15 ripe tomatoes. The first thought was that it was too many tomatoes. Then I thought of all the neighbors I had who didn’t have their own tomato plants. I knocked on one neighbor’s door. He gave me tea while I played with the cat. I gave him tomatoes. I went for a massage in the afternoon. I brought tomatoes. I was sent home with freshly made spanakopita. I invited another neighbor over for dinner. We at pesto with basil from the garden and cucumber and tomato salad (cucumber, tomato, and shallots all from the garden drizzled with a little of the best balsamic vinegar and seasoned with just ground sea salt and pepper). We had a lovely visit, and I sent him home with tomatoes. In the next day or two, I will make a batch of tomato sauce and put it in the freezer and have someone over for dinner another night.
There is only “too much of a good thing” or a “superabundency” if we hoard it or try to ingest it all ourselves out of fear, greed, or desire for power or control. When we have enough ourselves and then share the abundance, we simply create more abundance. Once again, I am given again from my garden another sweet insight into the yoga teachings. I am also reminded by this small example that I could share even more broadly from my blessed lot of fullness in global society.
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Found Exhortation
I think I have “found” this exhortation before, but if so, it’s a good reminder, if not a mantra.
Getting Out of My Own Way (and thigh loop)
A couple of years ago, I took a brilliant class with Desiree Rumbaugh in which she used the theme of “getting out of our own way” to lead us to a place to better integrate our shoulders. As I was practicing with the Anusara principle of “thigh loop” this week, I was reminded of that class. We’ve all been in the situation where our habitual mindset, physical posture, life style, or emotions get in the way of our finding more freedom and happiness.
When our thigh bones move into the front plane of the body, the forward movement keeps us from opening our hips more fully and from getting into deeper and stronger poses that require our hips to be open (in fact, out of the way). When we take our thigh bones back, we physically have more freedom, more range of motion and are better able to access the deepest places of power and openness that allow us to soar on the mat. I’m working on it on the mat as a great reminder to get out of my own way off the mat.
Moksha
I have a set of cards that I keep on my altar that are designed to be used for contemplation. There are about fifty cards, each of which has a sanskrit word and its meaning. Just as one gets a fortune cookie randomly or picks a tarot card from a deck, but the message often seems right on point, the word that arises from the card picked from the stack often seems uncannily timely. Early Saturday morning, after not having used the cards in a few months, I picked a card from the middle of the stack to see if it would help guide my contemplation and meditations as I was getting ready to say good-bye to Becky. The word on the card I picked blind from the middle of the stack was “moksha” or liberation. In classical yoga, moksha does carry with it the implication of being liberated by transcending body and mind.
Later on Saturday, when I was on my way home from teaching for the appointment with the vet, I stopped at the metaphysical supply shop for a piece of rose quartz (to use in a ritual to assist with the transition and loss that a friend taught me). At the check out were “dolphin saying cards.” There was a sign next to the cards inviting customers to take one for free. The sign also said that it was not necessary to take the one at the top. The cards were face down; I did not look for a particular saying. I dug a few cards down, and the one I selected read: “freedom has its roots within yourself.” In other words, “moksha” for the second time on this day, when I was facing with Becky her transition of the spirit from the body.
Was it a message? Was it a coincidence? I do know that I knew when it was time, as I did with Henrietta. Becky just did not want to be embodied anymore. When I held her in her arms after she stopped breathing, she was released and relaxed in a way she had not been in months. That the signs were saying “moksha” resonated with Becky’s power and connectedness. I hope that when I am ready to go, I will truly understand moksha, that I will be released. It is so resonant of Becky’s life, for all her quirks, that she was still teaching me even as she was dying.
Coming Snowstorm (and Heyam Dukham Anagatam)
As I think about whether I will be able to get up to Willow Street to teach my last classes of the session, how much shoveling I will need to do , whether the next forecast storm (middle of next week) might create challenges for my planned trip to NY, etc, etc, my favorite (well, in the top 10) sutra of Patanjali, sprang to mind: heyam dukham anagatam, 2.16, which means roughly: the pain that has yet to come can be avoided.
I have several translations/commentaries of the Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras in my library. All have a different spin on what this means in practice. What I know is that it is at least partly about being in the present and taking things as they come. One should still practice and plan. By practicing and planning, we are better prepared for inevitable pains and challenges. (For those of you who are giddy with excitement with the thought of a “white Christmas,” this Sutra still helps. Part of the pain that can be avoided is disappointment when expectations are not realized the way we hoped they would be realized.) Once we have prepared in a healthy way, though, there is no point in agonizing about what might come, in being in pain in the present because of the possibility (or even inevitability) of a future pain.
The snow seems inevitable. I am charging my camera battery. I’m picking what is probably the last of the chard and the baby leeks from the garden, and I am getting ready for Serenity Saturday restoratives. As long as I can walk to the studio — eight inches is just plain fun, not impassable — I’ll be there with a warm and full offering. In the meantime, I am enjoying my day instead of worrying about the potential barriers to enjoyment.
