More Thoughts on Consent

I’m pretty sure that I am not alone in wishing that I would be assisted or touched–in yoga class or elsewhere–exactly when and how suits me without my having to say a word. But permeable/bridgeable boundaries require clear and steady awareness and communication.

I’m in the middle of a weekend workshop at Sun and Moon Yoga out in Fairfax (a whole different place from where I live and spend my time in the DMV, but that’s another story) with Dianne Bondy (check her out on social media or get her book) on making yoga more inclusive and accessible to all.

One of the many things discussed was consent. Since I wrote about my reaction to having to say yes or no to physical assists by hand raising, I’ve also been at a studio with cards that one takes and puts on one’s mat to say “no; please don’t touch me.” What if the card ends up under a prop? What if you don’t want other students to see that you don’t want (or want) assists? What if you change your mind?

The solution Dianne has seems the best I’ve seen. Every body gets a card (she uses playing cards from the dollar store). Face up means I am open to the possibility of an assist. Face down means leave me completely alone. Students can change which side is up throughout the practice.

If the card is face up, it’s just agreeing to further the conversation. Seeing that level of consent, Dianne said (as I was taught in my Anusara teacher trainings), if she thought there was something beneficial to offer, she then would ask while approaching if it was ok to offer an assist. If the answer was “yes,” then she would give a verbal assist. Only if the verbal assist was insufficient, would she ask if she could offer a physical assist and would say where she would touch the student to give the assist BEFORE doing so. The student would then have another opportunity to say “no” or provide limits on the permission.

Of course, in a big public class, this all gets done quite quickly, but I think this really is the only thing that works. I’m also sure, from my personal teaching experience, that there might be an occasional moment, like catching a student about to fall and maybe take down another student, that an urgent intervention must be done regardless of prior permission for assists generally–but those should be rare indeed.

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    Tatah Dvandavah Anabhighatah (and “winners and losers”)

    Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra II.48, tatah dvandaha anabhighataha is translated by B.K.S. Iyengar as “from then on [after the yogi through steady practice has absorbed him/herself in the practice of yoga), the sadhaka (practitioner) is undisturbed by dualities.”  This sutra follows the only two in all of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras that specifically discuss asana, which Patanjali describes as a controlled and perfect ease and steadiness of mind and body.

    I was thinking about the freedom from the “pairs of opposites” — pleasure and pain, etc. — when I read an article in the Washington Post yesterday dividing everyone who was impacted by the blizzard as a winner or a loser.   Children off from school were winners, frustrated parents, travelers who were grounded from flying, and politicians sure to be blamed for not having planned in a Southern city to have the snow removal equipment, personnel, and budget of a city like Buffalo, NY, were losers.  I am fairly certain (based on the harangues on the blogs) that the author was not alone in seeing everything as winning or losing.  To me, though, it feels like one of the “afflictions” described by Patanjali.  I was a grounded flyer.  I was much looking forward to a trip to San Francisco to see a dear friend from college and then to attend the weekend workshop with John Friend.  It would have been great fun to be there.  I was disappointed.  But it never would have occurred to me to label myself a loser.  Do so so would just had me hold onto unhappiness.

    Yoga teaches us to look for the good, to accept what we cannot change, and to seek to respond in the highest.  In essence, we are changing what we can change, which is how we react.  If my only reaction to the storm was pain and sadness from having the pleasure of my planned trip taken away from me, then I would in fact be a loser.  If I just accept that no one can anticipate when record-breaking winter storms are going to arrive and then have the best day I can under the unavoidable circumstances, then I am a winner.  I am not a winner in a game where someone else is a loser.  I am not a winner in that I did not let Mother Nature win.  Rather, I have learned that the steady practice of yoga makes life more easeful and delightful even in challenges and disappointments.  I am motivated to practice more.  The lessons learned from being confined a blizzard when I was warm, well fed, and surrounded by friends are a hopeful prelude for how the yoga will serve when I really face a challenge.

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    New Year’s Greetings (Web Version of E-Newsletter)

    Dear  Friends,

    Despite being in the warm and comfortable bed for which I am grateful every day, I woke up sore-hearted this morning.  I’d been dreaming first of dodging bullets in a shootout and then striving to escape rising flood waters.  I did not suffer any physical harm to my person in these dreams, but felt scared and lost and unable to save those around me at greater risk.  With the morning wake-up call, I got out of bed and followed my cat Uma down the stairs for our morning ritual.  I changed her box and fed her.  While she ate, I did some gentle asana to unknot the sleep from my body.  I took my seat for pranayama and meditation, and Uma, as is her practice, immediately curled herself up against me. After meditating, I prepared a healthful and tasty breakfast and then got to work.  After a few hours of working, the charged emotions of my dreams faded into the background.

    I’ve had dreams like this before, and it is not surprising I would be having them now.  Gunfire and flood waters and other violence (man-made and “natural”) are our daily news.  For the most part, even those events that hit closest to home such as Hurricane Sandy have not caused irremediable harm to those I know, even those who were impacted.  I find myself asking what I, as an ordinary person without special insight or extraordinary ambition, should or could be doing in the face of apparently ever-increasing societal rancor, divisiveness and violence and destructively extreme weather and increasing environmental degradation.

    Can the yoga practices help in this?  I think so.  At its most insidious, much of the core elements of the yoga philosophy served to justify keeping in their place without protest those without power by virtue of gender or social class.  I believe that in our Western context, though, these same practices can be used to help us to better handle and accept what comes our way without requiring us to be idle and complacent in the face of injustices or harms that we can change.  I might not be a visionary, but I can be a good citizen.  I might not be able to radically transform, but I can be responsible for taking care of my health and home in ways that minimize my impact on the environment and others and give me the most strength to take care of those with whom I am in relationship.  I can practice going deep into challenge with the yoga with the intention of being able to live with greater grace and beauty whatever comes.

    I invite you to join me in this endeavor (and to share any concrete ideas–especially those of you who have visions for making things better; I’ll listen and contemplate).

    The yoga offerings continue on the same schedule:  William Penn House (pay the suggested donation or whatever you can), Tuesday nights from 6:30-7:45pm; house class for charity on Wednesday nights (email me if you want to join); Friday nights gentle/therapeutics at Willow Street Takoma Park from 5:45-7:15.  For immediate news of a change in class schedule or special offerings when I am substitute teaching or offering a workshop, please like my Facebook page.  If you haven’t already, please consider subscribing to my blog to enjoy photos and musings about the yoga life and join in the dialogue.

    May the new year bring you, along with the inevitable challenges, joy and peace at heart.
    Peace and light,

    Elizabeth

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    Bare Bones of the Trees (and Pratyahara)

    One of the things that I appreciate most about winter is being able to see the bare articulation of the shape of the tree in the absence of its leaves. A dormant tree looks very different from a leafless, lifeless tree. The dormant tree still has a vibrancy to it.

    As I enjoyed the beauty of the trees in Stanton Park this morning on my walk to work, I thought about pratyahara (withdrawal of or from the senses), which is the fifth step of Patanjali”s eight-limbed path of yoga and the bridge between life and physical practice (the first four limbs consist of ethical observances and restraints, asana, and breathing practices) and meditation. I have been led to contemplate the practice and meaning of pratyahara since the last meditation retreat I attended.

    From a renunciate perspective, pratyahara entails withdrawing from that which stimulates our senses. A renunciate would simplify and restrict what he or she takes into his or her system to free the mind from stimulation and make it easier to go into a space of meditation.

    Being careful to eat lightly, avoiding the stimulation of electronic entertainment, finding a quiet place to sit, and shutting our eyes before we begin meditating is part of the practice of pratyahara that all of us who practice meditation do as a matter of course.

    From a tantric perspective, I think pratyahara fits into our practice a little differently than for someone seeking to be on a reunciate path. We may definitely choose to minimize undue or excessive stimulation because certain types or amounts of stimulation feel out of alignment with our practices. For me, more than a certain amount of sense stimulation and certain types of stimulation can numb my celebration of and experience the spirit. Refining what I take into my system so I feel better able to live fully and celebrate and see the play of consciousness is different than renouncing objects that stimulate the senses or sense impressions themselves, as being less real than spirit. It is not renouncing things as unreal; it is picking and refining what to experience to better recognize and remember spirit. For the great siddhas, withdrawal from stimulation would not be necessary because they do not lose sight of spirit by either the cravings of the senses or being overwhelmed by reactions to stimulation of the senses.

    The trees seemed to me this morning to help elucidate this principle. The trees aren’t acting out of ego or greed or yearning to find happiness from the outside because of an emptiness on the inside. They are always open to the light and the rain. In winter, when they are dormant, they are not reaching for the light and rain or hungering for spring. They are there in all of their beauty open to receive nourishment when it comes. In spring, when the leaves start to bud and open, it is because of the light and the rain, but the essence of being a tree does not change or get distorted by going inward and resting or by opening to burgeoning growth.

    When we can simply open to all that is around us as spirit (beyond my capacities except at the rarest of times), then we can be open to the fullness of what stimulates the senses and still be practicing pratyahara. As long as we are swayed from the recognition and delight of spirit by stimulation of the senses, then we need to practice withdrawing on a grosser level to help us find the space of still being where we can be in the world of the senses without being tangled up and bound by it as such.

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