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  • The Lantern

    ByElizabeth

    Today, I go to work my one Sunday a month at the Lantern Bookshop.  I have been volunteering at the Lantern for over 15 years.  My volunteer work there is service, but it is not selfless.  The Lantern serves the community in a variety of ways:  (1) it provides a place for like-minded community members to meet; we’ve had the same customers and workers for decades; (2) it provides creates scholarship funds for deserving young women to go to college, when they otherwise would not be able to afford to go; (3) by participating in the cycle of don’t throw away and reuse what we don’t need, it is good for the environment; (4) it creates a safe space for older workers to continue to be useful; (5) it keeps open an independent bookstore in a time when small businesses are hard-pressed to survive.  The work is not selfless for me because I adore books.  I like reading them, looking at them, exploring lightly ones that are far enough from my usual interests that I won’t commit the time to sit down and read.  I like being in an environment where all the talk is of books.

    I started at the Lantern as a way of giving back to my college.  My scholarship came from the proceeds of the New York companion to the Lantern.  Having limited my work to just one Sunday a month, I was able to keep at it.  If it had been a bigger commitment, I am sure I would have found it too much after a period of years, given all the other things I do.  Because I could manage the time commitment, and I enjoy the work, I have kept at it.  It is not my only volunteer work, but it is a steady component of my place in the community.

    A couple of years ago, I was with a group of yogis who were discussing a potential requirement to engage in seva or “selfless service.”  A number of people argued that unless the work made you uncomfortable, unless it stretched your emotional and personal boundaries, the work somehow did not count.  I have done volunteer work that has made me uncomfortable.  I’ve done work with the elderly sick and the institutionalized neglected.  I’ve served on a community board of directors where the focus was on a contentious neighborhood issue.  I have grown from that work, but I was only able to do it for a year or two or three before needing to move on to something else.

    Is work more “selfless” if it is difficult?  Is it less selfless to do work that one frankly enjoys than work from which one derives the satisfaction of “doing good” because it is difficult and dirty?  I don’t know the answer.  The yoga texts would seem to indicate, I think, that if one does service for any form of gratification then it is not selfless.  I would argue that it is best to do the work — with commitment — and forget about whether it also pleases.  If the community benefits, the work should be done.

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    Fall Greetings (Web Version of E-Newsletter)

    ByElizabeth

    I hope this newsletter finds you all as well as possible. It’s been a time when I’m feeling oh so fully aware of the vagaries of fate, the wildness of being, the play between the wholly unpredictable and the ordinary and expected, and the joys and benefits of aligning with a sense of order to feel healthy, adaptive, and present to what comes our way. I’m feeling that I am at a crossroads (this is partly physical), but I don’t have particular plans.

    This summer, I listened to my own teachings, and in the midst of tending to the responsibilities of work and home and community and relationship, I made sure to take the time to to study and practice, including time away with opportunities to see the stars, to watch the sunrise, to walk in the woods, to swim in a lake, and, on the way to and from, to enjoy New York City.

    As always, I’ve been reading widely, much of the reading focused on how we communicate and relate, what we dream, and what tools or ideas we might consider for making more efficacious our web of living relationship. In the fall, I’m looking forward to attending a number of weekend yoga workshops to inform my own practice and also going deeper into studying nonviolent communication.

    For now, in the midst of this outrageous dance of life and relationship, with all that we cannot control and the unfolding turmoil of climate and society, I think that what is most important to me is to work with dedication and with my best attitude, to do community service and engage fully as a citizen, to laugh and share food with friends, to make art, and to connect the broader ecosystem, even if it is mostly through my little garden and the trees and the sky of the city. I meditate and practice asana so that I can live such a life as fully, honestly, joyously, and with as much integrity as I can.

    The Tuesday night yoga practice at William Penn House continues as an opportunity to nurture our embodies selves and to share conversation about how the practices can help us live more efficaciously. I love it when new people or those who can only come occasionally join us regulars. It is generally all level and suggested donation, with all proceeds going directly to support the work camp program at William Penn House. This summer, William Penn House work campers constructed dozens of vegetable gardens for neighbors throughout the city, sharing the joys of urban edible gardening with and making possible healthier eating for those who otherwise might not have had access. Do come join us on a Tuesday night if you can. More experienced yogis can inquire directly about the Wednesday night house practice.

    If you want to get more regular communications, do consider subscribing to the blog to get an email version of what I post–most days that will come as a photo or a few words, every once and a while, something longer–mostly somehow about or informed by my own interpretation of yoga practice and philosophy. Feel free also to join me on Facebook.

    Peace and light,

    Elizabeth

    ps The murti of Nataraja was a present just given to me by a friend.  He’d brought it back from India a couple of years ago and thought it belonged more in my home than in his at present.  I hadn’t seen one that I’d want to bring home, but he’s dancing away on my bookcase.

    Nataraja

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