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I hate [insert name of pose or class of poses] (and the kleshas)
One of the aims of yoga, according to Patanjali’s classic eight-limbed path of yoga, is to be free from being torn between the pairs of opposites — pleasure and pain. We cannot be free if we are always grasping at pleasure or acting to avoid pain. From a tantric perspective, we are not trying to disengage or transcend body and mind and the natural arising of pleasure and pain, but we still want to be engaged without an attachment or aversion that leads us into entanglement and suffering rather than towards openness and light.
One of the kleshas (afflictions) is dvesa, which can be translated as hate, dislike, abhorrence, enmity, avoidance. Why wouldn’t we want just to avoid something that we dislike? Sometimes we have no choice, and one of the benefits of yoga is helping us make peace with having to face or be engaged with things that are painful or distasteful.
I often hear students say, “I hate [insert name of pose].” Last night, I heard it twice. I am no stranger to the “I have to go to the bathroom poses,” the poses which are so challenging or uncomfortable, that I feel the need to leave the room. One of the most profound ways I have grown with yoga, though, is staying present for the poses that did not initially appeal to me, usually those that pushed my fear, trust, strength, anxiety, worthiness buttons. One of the obvious superficial benefits of staying present and practicing the “I hate” poses is that they can yield an extra sense of accomplishment when we get them. We can also learn more about our friends and colleagues by starting to understand why the poses are the ones that naturally draw them and thus expand our perspective on the fullness of life.
For example, arm balances are still most challenging for me, partly because I am more flexible than I am strong, and partly because I am fearful of falling. I’ve started to appreciate how another person could be drawn to them for the exhilaration, the rush of danger, the excitement, the challenge, the very topsy-turvyness of the poses, although those aren’t sensations to which I am naturally drawn. But I have learned how much practicing arm balances fuels the energy in my core and heart and when I get them, what it must feel like to fly.
The teacher’s duty (and I have been blessed with wonderful teachers who have given me this gift) is to offer the full range of experiences (within the parameters of the class level, style of yoga, and class description), so that every student gets to practice both favorites and least favorites. This is not so much to make sure that every student gets a favorite sometimes and so is happy in the class when the favorite shows up, but so that the students are invited to be present, grounded, and open to his or her own light through the full range of delights and challenges. On a day when I just get my favorites, I feel like I have been to the spa. The real pleasure from yoga has been from the challenging poses over the long term. It has been steadily coming to the challenge that has started easing my reactions off the mat to the inevitable challenges, pain, and losses of a full and active life. In being less reactive to challenges, I also find I crave specific pleasures less, and so enjoy the pleasures that come all the more.
Yoga home practice challenge: pick one pose for which the phrase, “I hate…” usually proceeds it and make it an element of your weekly home practice for a month. Witness your reactions on and off the mat. Enjoy what happens next time the pose comes up in a class. Maybe the phrase “I hate” will stop arising as soon as you hear the teacher name the pose.
Samtosha (and the “Founding Fathers”)
I am subbing Fusion Flow tonight up at Willow Street. Natalie, for whom – am subbing, has been teaching the yamas and niyamas this session. She asked me to cover “samtosha” tonight.
In contemplating this principle of practice again (it is high on my contemplation list), I thought of the what was drafted by the “Founding Fathers.” We are not guaranteed the right to happiness, but the right and freedom to pursue it.
That leaves open the question of what is happiness and whether and how to pursue it. It contains, I think, a hidden agreement that to keep the right open to all that happiness cannot be realized by the acquisition of external power and things that will prevent others from having the same freedom.
When I get caught up in our current societal vision of what we are supposed to have or be, a reminder that “samtosha” — contentment — doesn’t just happen, but is a practice, always regrounds me. I choose to come back to a space of gratitude, and my my whole self eases. I return to a place that serves me and enhances my own freedom to find happiness, while bringing me to a place that is aligned with that freedom growing for what and whom I touch.
In Which I Learn a New Acronym While Away on Meditation Intensive
On our last day of the intensive, many of us ended up talking about different upcoming events and opportunities for study, practice, and exploration. We all had many things that we would love to do. I do not think that I was alone in feeling twinges of longing when friends shared what gatherings or courses they were planning to attend or considering attending. We knew that we could not possibly fit it all into our lives.
My lovely and witty friend Emma said, “it’s just f.o.m.o.” That’s an acronym I had not heard even though I live in a town that flourishes on acronyms. “It’s ‘fear of missing out,'” Emma spelled out.
We never want to miss an opportunity to discover the secret, to learn the perfect piece of wisdom, to experience the most exquisite of delights. The reality is, though, that if we get caught up in the fear of missing out, that we undermine the possibility of experiencing the greatest possible happiness with what fits into our lives.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
