What a different message–signs on glass windows and those on boarded up windows. I was out of the house on Tuesday for garden supplies. How much things in the neighborhood seem to change when I’m going out only a couple times a month instead of a couple of times a day.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Svadharma, from sva (self) and dharma (duty) means our personal path, duty, calling, or place. The principle of svadharma is a significant teaching in various yoga texts, such as the Bhagavad Gita, especially emphasizing the importance in acting in accordance with one’s caste (for example, Arjuna needing to act in accordance with his dharma as a warrior) or one’s sex (consider Sita’s role in the Ramayana).
Extrapolating this teaching and taking it onto the mat, during one of the practice sessions the previous week at the Certified Teachers’ Gathering, John Friend said that “every part of the the body has its own svadharma to increase the pranic flow.” He then said that if you just took a photo of the feet of an Anusara yoga practitioner in any pose, you should be able to see that the whole body was fully engaged and active. John Friend’s teaching here was not just using the yoga philosophy as a catalyst to better understand the body. By using the principle to illuminate the practice, the practice reflectively illuminated the principle itself, without denying or denigrating its original context or getting bogged down in its historical baggage of perpetuating the caste system and demarcated, subservient roles for women.
Thinking about the svadharma of the pinky toe has no such baggage. The pinky toes are homely looking things, they do not fit well into most women’s shoes, they rather painfully bump into things, and they are hard to move independently. They are not essential for living and do not have the emotional charge of the heart and brain, the exquisite connection to the world of the sense organs, or the connection to life itself of the lungs. Despite this, the call to lift and spread the toes, to draw the pinky toe toward the heel, or the hip happens just about every time I go to the mat in my practice or teach a class. Activating the pinky toe by opening it and spreading it apart from the other toes is a conscious act of opening that helps hug the shins to the midline. In hugging the shins in by means of activating the pinky toe, the yogi on the mat can then safely move the thighs back and apart, creating an expansion of the pelvic floor that provides room for more strongly tucking under the tailbone to access core power. The pinky toe thus is an important part of our practice, even if we could manage to get by without it.
But the svadharma of the pinky toe on the mat is not just to be able to help us access the movement of “shins in” so that we can better do “thighs out,” although that is an important physical part of its essence. The toe does not move on its own. We have to start by bringing our awareness and consciousness to the toe. Part of the pinky toe’s svadharma, then, is to invite the infusion of consciousness to show how full participation of even an apparently insignificant part of the body can lead us to a better understanding and personal experience of the pulsation between reaching out and hugging in and affirming ourselves. By intentionally bringing our awareness to the power we can unleash in the pose by the movement of the pinky toe, we bring the opportunity for greater strength, expansion, and flow of energies. This is why, I think, John Friend suggested that by just seeing the toes we should be able to know the engagement of the whole body and mind in a particular pose.
As a practical and therapeutic matter, recognizing and bringing into play the svadharma of each and every part of the body serves to help us increase the flow of energy and expand our range of movement. In addition, activating the parts of the body that are inclined to slack (for example, the pinky toe or the adductor and abdominal muscles) will bring ease to the muscles that tend to overwork to compensate, such as the neck and low back muscles. We are not just stronger and more flexible when every part of the body does fulfills its svadharma, but we eliminate much pain and suffering. (More to come on this particular concept in other posts.)
Off the mat, when all parts of the whole are fully conscious of and know their svadharma, the whole will itself have more consciousness, more light, and better experience the bliss of being. It is easy to see, without judgment or question, that the pinky toe cannot do the work of the heart, although when the pinky toe is working it can help contribute to an integration of mind and body that will further the opening of the heart and thus the whole person. Finding our svadharma as a whole person within society does not have to be about conforming to preconceived social norms that no longer serve. The better we are able to understand where we are in time, space, and the interconnected web of being, though, the more fully we can participate in leading society itself to a more conscious and light-filled place, just as bringing our conscious awareness to the actions of the pinky toe can do the same for us as individual yogis on the mat. When we recognize and live out our true svadharma as such, we radically affirm ourselves, the community, and the very essence of all being.
I took a very enjoyable class this morning with Sue Elkind at Dig Yoga. It was a very full class, so the mats were several inches apart–far enough not to feel too crowded, but close enough to be able to do standing poses supporting each other.
We did tree pose holding or pressing into the arms/hands of the people on either side of us. Sue invited is to close our eyes and lean/hold more heavily on each other to stay balanced. (It is a lot harder to balance when we close our eyes; try it if it has been a while or you’ve never tried it.)
One of the people next to me got off balance and fell out of the pose. The instinct to keep from taking anyone else off balance was to withdraw from contact. But leaning farther into me would have increased the possibility of the other yogi regaining the pose and would have kept needed support in place for me.
A good lesson for these stressful times that continuing to lean in for support instead of withdrawing can enhance the whole support network.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Could not resist the french name. More fun than summer local vegetable stew. An alternative name could be: how to make three okra and six beans into dinner for two. Or maybe four. When I was out in the garden this morning, I simply picked what needed to be picked. Featured here: three okra, six beans, one jalapeno, two ancho chiles (one partly dried on the plant), two large tomatoes (both of which are only partly viable), two ripe and one green (fell off while I was picking the ripe ones) roma tomatoes, one very small garlic clove, baby leeks, garlic chives, tarragon, parsley, dill, and herb fennel. Serve over quinoa, couscous, rice, or pasta, and it is easily a meal for two. Add some red beans or other dried beans, and it could be dinner for four.
One of the things I like about eating from the garden is the necessity of being creative. Cooking from a cook book, who wants an ingredient list this long? I could also be disappointed that no one of my plants is giving me enough to create a dish out of mostly one or two ingredients. If I were getting these ingredients from the store, I would get more okra or beans or peppers. There is a great joy in finding a sense of abundance and sparked creativity and celebrating pleasure, art, fulfillment, delight, offerings with what we have been given, whether it is the food from our garden, our bodies, our talents, our families, or the time and place into which we were born. In finding the highest sense of abundance and creativity within our limitations, we are truly experiencing the yoga concept of jivan mukti, living liberation.
When I was going through airport security today in San Francisco on my way to Los Angeles, the security guard made me stop. She patted my hair all around my neck and then let me go. I had read an article a few weeks ago (probably in the New York Times), written by an African-American woman complaining of the hair pat-down. The author said that though she knew many woman of color who had experienced it, she knew of no white women, no matter how curly their hair. When it happened, I thought, “well, I’m a white woman who has been given the hair pat-down.”
When my blonde friend, whose hair is thick and curly, met me at the gate, I asked if they had patted her hair. It was not a surprise the answer was “no.”. My wild and frizzy, dark, ethnically jewish hair is still scarier to this society than pretty blonde, northern european tresses.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
