I was standing around with some neighbors–all masked, but needing to say hello. When getting into political discussion with a neighbor who seems to think there might be a return to “normal,” I happened to glance up and notice how beautiful was the sky.
I enjoyed reading Amy Ippoliti’s blog entry on her first yoga class. My story is here (sorry, it takes two clicks), for those of you have not yet read it. What is your story? Does thinking about it help you reflect on how yoga has shifted your life?
The other day a friend commented that it seemed that a major contributor to global climate change is how we have set out to control our environment instead of aligning with it (my paraphrase). So much, he said, of what contributes to global climate change is how we heat and cool and light our homes and work places. For example, instead of honoring the change of seasons, we overcool in summer and overheat in winter, so that we can wear the same clothes and eat the same foods year round in apparent comfort.
This comment resonated with me deeply. It brought to mind what I have been taught about possible approaches to pranayama — the yoga practice of conscious breathing. Pranayama usually as translated as breath control or restraint. This assumes that the conjunction in sanskrit is of the two words “prana” and “yama.” Prana here refers to the subtle energy of the life force in general, which we can understand best through the breath. Yama means restraint. If, however, we think of pranayama as the conjunction of “prana” and “ayama,” which is a reasonable way of looking at the way the word is formed, we can understood pranayama to be the practice of expansion or alignment with prana.
When we seek with our yoga breathing practices on the mat or with our technology and lifestyles off the mat to restrain and control nature at the expense of listening and understanding, we will be at war with ourselves and the earth. If, however, we seek to align better with nature on and off the mat, to expand and enhance our relationship with the life force, rather than to restrain and control nature, we will expand our awareness of the subtle forces of the earth and live in a more life-affirming way.
I saw a hawk when I was walking to work this morning. It was in one of those stately oak trees in the park just north of the US Capitol. I have occasionally seen hawks in the neighborhood alleys, but never one at the Capitol. The hawk stood out for two reasons: it was very large, and it was the only living being about. Usually, there are a number of squirrels, pigeons, and maybe crows, sparrows, and common grackles about the park. This morning, it was unearthly quiet; all of the other animals and birds were all in hiding. It was probably a red-tailed hawk. As I stood to watch this special being, a woman walked past me with her head hunched down, her hands shoved in her pockets, her briefcase weighing down her shoulder, and her face preoccupied, a common going to work look. I called out to her, “look, a hawk.” She was startled, maybe even a little upset at first that I had interrupted her thoughts, but then she, too, stopped and watched. When I finally continued on to work, she stayed watching for a while, and she no longer looked preoccupied. At the bottom of the steps of the park, I went past the police, who are there every morning with their cars parked on the sidewalk (blocking the way). The police rarely say hello. One of the cops, who had his dog out of the car, called out a good morning to me today, though. I greeted him back, “good morning, did you see the hawk?” “Yes, I’ve been watching it,” he said. We had a nice chat about the hawk and about his being able to watch the bald eagles at Blue Fields in Virginia, where they do the training for the police dogs.
It would have been easy for me not to see the hawk. I use my morning walk as a time for contemplation, and when I am in the park (leaving aside the Architect of the Capitol vehicles that sometimes intrude), it is a time I can be less careful about traffic and be more inward. But it is also a time to look and to appreciate the opportunity to be outside, whatever the weather and the season. The trees and birds and small animals and plantings and sky look different everyday. While I go inward on my morning walk, I am also always noticing. This is a kind of mindfulness — to be able to be resting with inward attention, but still be open to observing whatever is in view. Is it less mindful to be so drawn inward that the outside disappears? That perhaps depends on whether one has deliberately gone so far inward that the outside ceases to exist for a time, which is a meditation method, or whether one is just so preoccupied with the churning of the mind that one becomes less conscious.
I woke up early this morning, all ready to go up to Takoma Park and teach free classes. I am fully prepared — I’ve been enjoying contemplating one of my favorite first class themes, practicing great ways to enjoy our bodies (when we’ve been on vacation), thinking of what I would get at the Co-op during the break, looking forward to chatting with the work studies, who I love.
Good thing I checked my email this morning before leaving the house and subscribe to a lot of list serves. Mid-Atlantic Yoga had an announcement from Willow Street that free class week is September 14-21. Feeling a little anxious about my mix-up I checked the Willow Street web site. Under today’s classes it says there are no regular classes today.
I could get all grumpy with myself. I made a mistake. I missed an opportunity to go out of town for the weekend (though I have a big speech on Monday, and it would behoove me to be well-rested). But I am happy to be here; I already have planned a massage, a Sunday brunch, and a potluck dinner. Now I also can spend a luxurious morning in the garden and have time to get seriously fun into baking for the potluck.
I also have a no harm done reminder that maybe I need to slow down a little. These kinds of slip ups, which are very rare for me, are definitely a sign of being over-scheduled.
Another perfect
Two sweet cherry tomatoes
One yellow. One red.
And some coriander about to flower.
For those of us living fully in our modern material world, as I am, it is important to think not so much about denying ourselves things or giving them up, but rather, seeing how we can make shifts to living more lightly. One of my heavy impacts on the environment is computer usage. Right now, I have on my work computer, my home laptop, and my Blackberry.
All of you who are reading this blog are doing so via computer or by a personal device with web access that requires battery charging. I’d hazard a guess that most of these portable computers are not being powered by sun and wind. I am still waiting for Pepco to come and change the meter to hook up my newly installed rooftop solar panels to the grid, and I don’t have a solar charger for the Blackberry.
One thing I thought I could do to help make enjoying this way of connecting have less impact on the environment would be to go carbon-neutral. In the world of plastic, the ideal is don’t use, reuse, repurpose, recycle. In the world of electricity, it is don’t use, use from better sources, off-set. With respect to my blog, I am choosing to use the necessary electricity, but go solar with my house, buy electricity from a source that uses offsets (Clean Currents) for that electricity that is in excess of what the solar panels will provide, and I’m choosing to offset this blog’s impact based on readership through the Carbon Fund.