Reflections on the Healing Process
I wanted to share, because I found it so moving and because I have such profound respect for his teaching, the recent reflections from Todd Norian about the healing process.
I wanted to share, because I found it so moving and because I have such profound respect for his teaching, the recent reflections from Todd Norian about the healing process.
Last week I chose not to read details of the state of the environment, the financial markets, the wars, the budget, etc, etc. I knew from reading emails requesting political action and contributions general information, including what happened in the special elections, the actions in the Senate on financial regulatory reform, and the aftermath of the oil leak in the Gulf. Now it is Monday morning, and I am back.
As I saved for later the reference to this talk on derivatives, I thought about John Friend having said at a retreat several years ago that we should take the time to read the parts of the newspaper that do not directly interest us as yogis. He suggested that we should take the time to read news about finances, politics, and global affairs. I remember thinking at the time that since I already read that part of the news with engagement, I’d have to start reading the sections about sports, television, and cars. I actually try to do the latter on occasion, just to better understand those around me.
If we are to live in the world, we need to try and appreciate what motivates and impassions those around us, whether we agree with them on the surface or not. It is easy enough to say we should love everyone regardless of who they are and to do so at a very abstract level. The challenge is finding a loving space when we know the details, and we believe that the details point to a life that is not being lived in accordance with our ethics, our own surface wants, or how we envision the world. When we have a broader understanding of the details of why people believe and act a certain way, though, sometimes it is then easier to find compassion and commonality, because we start to understand that the different details come from the same elemental yearnings for worthiness, empowerment, and love.
How do you plan your return home from a retreat or vacation? Do you come home at the very last minute, so that the travel is exhausting and the first day back at work is a struggle? Or do you plan to have a day — or at least several hours — to unpack, make sure you have fresh food to eat, and have brought the feeling of vacation back into your home life before getting back to work?
When I was studying on retreat in Arizona, Paul Muller-Ortega took particular pains to emphasize the importance of doing savasana for at least a few minutes after sitting for meditation for a “slow re-entry.” Without the resting time in between practicing/adventuring/celebrating/retreating and working, it is like eating a loaf of bread right out of the oven, rather than giving it at least 10-15 minutes to rest. Right out of the oven, the is too hot and the texture is not right, and we cannot taste how good it is. Give it a chance to rest, and it is exquisitely hot and fresh and perfect.
We need to rest, to reintegrate, to settle or we can feel like there is no point in going on vacation. How many people do you know (perhaps you have said this yourself) who say there is no point in going on vacation because it just makes work harder on return? When I take a shorter vacation/rest/retreat to account for reintegration time, and then fully reintegrate, the rejuvenating properties of getting away definitely last longer.
I returned very late Sunday night. Yesterday I practiced at home, did my laundry, cleaned the yoga room, petted the cats, had a massage, did a little reading, cooked delicious food (homemade granola, kitcheree, greens from the garden), and went to sleep early. Now I am off to work, seeking to bring what I learned into my day.
This week I drafted, and today signed along with two witnesses, a living will. It has been on my “to do” list for a good 20 years, and I have been carrying in my wallet a card from the Society for the Right to Die (which no longer appears to exist) saying that I have a living will in my possession. Two things led me to get it done at this time. The first is my deeply held belief that privileging hospice is an important and mostly missing element of the health care debate. The second was witnessing a dear friend have the last few months of her life being attached to machines and receiving ever more painful medical intervention even with end stage cancer. I know that is not what I want.
This society gives you the medical care, though, whether you want it or not, if you do not say something loudly, clearly, and with technically the right jargon. I could not wait any longer. I did the research, drafted the document, spoke to my family and friends, and finally did it. It is hard to do. I am still anxious that I did not do it right or that in the end, should it come where the living will would be necessary, my wishes will not be honored. It is hard to think about death, illness, and accident. It is scary to approach legal documents that are so fraught with political and religious weight (a friend cautioned me to make sure I have lots of copies because of his experience of a nurse, who because of her religious doctrine, repeatedly “lost” copies of his mother’s directives when she was dying from advanced Altzheimer’s.)
The yoga helps me think about these things with some measure of equanimity. I have even heard teachers say that the whole reason for a steady practice is to be prepared for death and dying, so that we can go peacefully, comfortable with both our life and our death. Part of the yoga off the mat, in this regard, is recognizing how society is likely to behave, and what we need to do to be healthy within the confines of society.