Food for the Mind (Yoga Philosophy, etc)

Contemplations on readings and yoga philosophy.

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    Shiva, Brahma, Vishnu (and the health care act)

    ByElizabeth

    In Hindu philosophy, the powers of creation (Brahma), sustaining or preserving (Vishnu), and destruction (Shiva) are all given equal weight in the balance of the universe.  Without destruction, there is no place for new creation.  Each aspect of this triad is an essential part of the elemental unity of being.

    I think that a repeal of the health care act, if it only were to open the path to a single payor system that actually provided health care for most, would be a good human level demonstration of the need for destruction to allow for creative flowering.  Alas, I don’t think that is what the would-be destroyers have in mind.

    I remember at these times that I am not in charge, and I cannot see the biggest of the big pictures, but somehow, that is not always of much comfort.

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    What Does It Mean to Study War?

    ByElizabeth

    Martin Luther King, Jr. said:   “A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, “This way of settling differences is not just. …A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.” Still, the Pentagon suggests that Martin Luther King “might” have supported the war in Afghanistan.  Not sure on what basis.

    Last night at the Willow Street Book Club, where we were reading Ram Dass’s Paths to God–Living the Bhagavad Gita, one of my fellows raised the question of how we could read as a spiritual guide a book whose context is war.  Another asked a similar question from the perspective of a feminist.  It was a fabulous, engaged, lively discussion, and I hope to see more next month.

    It would be an injustice to the text and the historical context to read entirely out of the Bhagavad Gita the duty of a warrior to kill, a wife to practice suttee, and persons born into each caste to accept their lot in life in a society structured on the caste system.   There is much richness in the text, though, that can provide guidance for a feminist, pacifist, who believes that “all men are created equal.”

    We have reread “men” in the Declaration of Independence to include women and those of all races (though we cannot manage to rewrite the Constitution to explicitly state that women are equal, but that’s a thought for another day).  Similarly, without doing injustice to the text, we can see that the ultimate teachings about living in accordance with duty (svadharma), love, devotion, and sacrifice in the Gita, like the concepts of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” provide guidance and force for social action and spiritual devotion beyond a historical context that oppressed and bound on the worldly plane the very persons who are now seeking the deeper meanings in the text.  In fact, I believe that we can use the essential intent of the text to teach and transform the oppressors, to use the very text to show why the violence and oppression of the historical context is injust and needs to be changed so that the spiritual intent can be expanded and spread beyond the privileged.

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    Bare Bones of the Trees (and Pratyahara)

    ByElizabeth

    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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    A Happy Coincidence (and the new Willow Street Yoga book club)

    ByElizabeth

    As regular readers may have noticed, last Sunday I was inspired to blog about Arjuna’s dilemma on the battlefield in connection with local events.  Later that day, I was reminded that this coming Sunday, January 16th, will be the first meeting of the new book club at Willow Street Yoga Center (Takoma Park studio).  The book for the first meeting is Ram Dass’s Paths to God, Living the Bhagavad Gita.  Perhaps I was thinking about the Gita because in the back of my mind, I knew that the reading was on my to do list.  Perhaps, the book club reading was just energetically connected to where my thoughts were already going.  Perhaps it was just a coincidence (though I do not much believe in coincidence).

    Although the date had crept up on me unawares, I did already have Paths to God on my shelf and began reading it upon getting the reminder about the book club.  The book, which is taken from a series of lectures at the then newly opened Naropa University, is rich with stories about Ram Dass’s own spiritual journey, recommendations for a wide range of practices for discovery of our own spirit, and has lots of juicy thought about taking the study of the Bhagavad Gita and other spiritual texts out of our heads and into how we live our lives and embrace the world.

    I hope to see many of my local yogi friends at the book club meeting, not just to expand ourselves by reading and discussing this beautiful text, but to deepen our yoga community and practice by being together.  I am sure you are welcome, too, to bring your needlework.  If you cannot join us this time, do think about adding the book to your list of yoga books to read.  Ram Dass is always thought-provoking, inspiring, and delightful to read.

    There is a google group for the book club if you want to get updates.  I trust that you will be added to the group if you email:  willowstreetbookclub@googlegroups.com

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    Another Encroachment on Individual Liberties (and Arjuna’s dilemma)

    ByElizabeth

    When I was waiting for the metro to go to Willow Street Yoga this Saturday morning to offer a free gentle/therapeutics class (new session starts for the class next Saturday, January 15th–all welcome), I heard a very disturbing announcement on Metro.  I only take Metro once or twice a week.  I am pretty certain I would have noticed it if I had heard it before; in rush hour, of course, it is hard to hear the announcements when the platforms are full.  What I heard was this:  “Metro police have advised that all passengers are subject to random searches of their carry ons.”  A reasonable person might want to know what is a “carry on” for these purposes.  My first question to myself was “don’t random searches of this type violate the Constitution?”  (Yes, the American Civil Liberties Union is actively engaged in the issue).

    I find random searches just for boarding the metro with a carry on an unfortunately not particularly shocking example of how far we have allowed the “war on terror” to be waged against all of us.  Perhaps there are readers of this blog who are not shocked or perhaps believe that these searches are warranted; I am open to listening to why.  I know that it was not front page news, and my friends have not been talking about it.  This was just another one of those awful things we have started taking for granted, which is something that I hope is getting progressively harder to do.

    My biggest question for myself was what I would do if the police asked to search my handbag.  The odds are slim to none that “random” would in practice include a reasonably well-dressed, clean, small, middle-aged, middle class, fairly evidently American-born, white woman.  But what if random was really random and I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?  Would I refuse to let my bag be searched on principle?  Would I be willing to lose my job and possibly go to jail for my conviction that such a practice misses the mark completely for its intended purposes and tears at the very fabric of a free society and our individual liberties?  I find that I do not know the answer.  Partly it is attachment to my own security.  Partly it is that I do not know whether it would be better just to allow my bag to be searched and not engender conflict than to engage in conflict that will certainly harm me, severely limit my ability to give financial support for important fights and causes, and potentially could harm others around me, even if ultimately, with the help of many I am sure, I were to be a participant in reason prevailing and the practice ceasing.

    In thinking about how unsure I was of my ability to act if I were to be put to the test, I was reminded of the situation at the beginning of the Bhagavad Gita, where Arjuna is paralyzed by inability to act in the face of the hideous spector of violent death and destruction that would result from going to battle even to rectify an injustice.  Arjuna looks out on the battlefield where battle is enjoined because of the injustices that have been done (we’ll leave it for another day as to whether the violations of law in the Mahabharata are ones that a modern thinker might agree should give rise to the epic battle in the Bhagavad Gita.)  Krishna explains to Arjuna that it is his dharma to go to battle; he is a warrior and these wrongs must be rectified.  The general day to day principle that governs the life of a yogi — ahimsa or non-harming — is trumped by the greater need to rectify the societal injustice.  Arjuna must join in battle because leaving the injustice uncorrected will in result in greater harm to the order of society, even the cosmological order itself.  See Stephen Phillips, “Yoga, Karma, and Rebirth” (discussing the interrelationship between the individual practice of ahimsa and the need for cosmological order in Indian philosophy).

    I am not likely to be put to the test here, but that is part of the evil of the practice.  What can I do?  What should I be doing in the face of a direction in society that gives rise to policies like these and the gunning in Arizona yesterday?  It takes great discrimination (viveka), more perhaps than I have, to know how and when to act.  I do know that it is not right for me as a citizen or a yogi to stand aside.  I offer this very public statement of my beliefs and I gave a generous donation to the ACLU yesterday.  I am sure that is not enough, but it is a start.  As our society moves in the direction it is moving, more and more of us must contemplate, evaluate, and begin to expand how we act and participate to see a world where ahimsa is not just personal, but all persons and beings have the possibility of being free from suffering.

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    My Top Yoga-Related Reads of 2010

    ByElizabeth

    These are not in any particular order.  Nor have I attempted to make a list of round numbers, such as “top 10,” though I could have found 10 to be “top” if I had really tried.  The emphasis here, with the exception of the new edition of the Yoga Sutras is my continuing contemplation and study of the intertwining of east and west and how it has created, informed, and shaped my studies and teaching over the years.  There is an emerging body of scholarship on this topic, and this list has the highlights I have read.  I have put one book of older fiction on the list.  I have consistently made it a practice to read modern Indian literature to gain another perspective on Indian society other than the westernized yoga we practice.  Here’s the list.

    1.  Ram Das, Be Love Now.  Be Love Now is a beautiful expanding spiral of reflection from what started in Be Here Now. I got my first copy of Be Here Now when I was 13 or 14, not long after it was first published.  I learned about it from friends at Quaker Youth camp, and it was a not insignificant part of my youthful spiritual thought and growth.  Be Love Now is full of love and sweetness and a wonderful reflection on the relationship of a spiritual leader to his guru.  For those of us for whom Be Here Now was an important book early on, I think it is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on our own spiritual path and studies.  When I was reading it, I wondered whether Be Love Now, which seems to assume a certain basic level of understanding of yoga philosophy terms and readings and familiarity with a group of modern teachers and practitioners, would feel less accessible to someone who was moved by Be Here Now in their younger days, but never really followed up with the practices or studies advocated except on a most ethereal level.

    2.  Robert Love, The Great Oom. I found this biography of Pierre Bernard absolutely fascinating.  I have long been interested in the interrelationship between colonialism and Western practice of eastern spirituality and religion.  This book highlights a previously unexplored aspect of the relationship between east and west.  Of note for me, was that Pierre Bernard, though clearly an important influence on the practice of hatha yoga in America, did not himself travel to India.

    3.  Louis Bromfeld, The Rains Came. This is the only book on my list that was not published in 2009 or 2010.  It is also not a yoga book.  Although dated in some respects, it is a deeply engaging exploration of how Westerners (both religiously inspired do-gooders and colonial profiteers) and Indians (Hindus, Muslims, and Christians) collectively react to, respond, and in part cause the extremes of catastrophe in the wake of monsoon flooding.  All too timely in its own way as we watched what happened with the flooding in Pakistan.  I think of it as yoga-related because it provides perspective on the intertwining of religion, community, and society with colonization, which I think is an essential part of our understanding of our own western practice of hatha yoga and eastern styles of meditation.

    4.  Mark Singleton, The Yoga Body:  Origins of Modern Posture Practice. My friend Jane — fellow yogini and ever intelligent conversationalist on yoga philosophy and practice, and frequent commenter on this blog — lent me this book to read after we had been talking about our reactions to The Great Oom. It’s a bit of a tough read, as is common for dissertations turned into books, but it provides fresh perspective and interesting research and insights on our modern physical practice of yoga and, yes, still more information on the dance between east and west.

    5. Edwin Bryant, The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali:  A New Edition, Translation, and Commentary.  I haven’t read this through cover to cover, as that is not the point for books like this, but I have been dipping in and out of this translation and commentary from the moment I got it and expect to be doing so for years to come.  The scholarship and perspective is an excellent supplement the many translations and interpretations of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras that I already have in my library.

    6. Stephen Phillips, Yoga, Karma, and Rebirth: A Brief History and Philosophy.  I bought this book several months ago after having overheard Dave Kennedy mentioning it to John Friend.  I am still working my way through it.  Like Singleton’s book, it is another slow read, but useful in its tying together and giving perspective on the relationship between traditional eastern thought and western practice and understanding.

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    Two Temptations of Maya

    ByElizabeth

    In classical yoga, maya is the illusion that the tangible world is what is real.  Only atman is real; the world we experience through our senses (and our senses them selves) as reality is an illusion.  We renounce the world to escape the temptation of being drawn into it as reality.  In so doing, though, we ineluctably must come to the conclusion that all that is ill with the world is as much an illusion as that which is tempting.  In turning away from the world we would be also turning away from the pain of seeing inequity and suffering and the desire to seek change in the tangible, sense-experienced world.

    As I was walking around New York City, ankle-deep in slush and being hyper-stimulated by the lights and the noise and the smells and the bustle and the choices, I found myself thinking about maya and that in its classical sense has two surface temptations for me.  The first is the temptation to turn away from the stimulation, to reject consumption of more than needed to exist.  In the face of such excessive stimulation, the idea of nothing, of utter simplicity, of quiet seems desirable.  If the turning away is another form of seeking pleasure or escaping pain, though, it is still in the trap of maya — the worldly illusion that binds us in the pair of opposites–pleasure and pain.  The second temptation, the temptation to withdraw from everything except seeking the light within, is more subtle.  If we truly are to turn away from the world of the senses, we turn away from notions of justice and equality and freedom that are based how we live in the material world as much as we turn away from consumption.

    The true path of renunciation, of pure meditation, is a rare and beautiful path, but to stay in the world and to withdraw ineffectually in such a way might earn the hackneyed epithet “navel gazing.”  My path is not that of the renunciate yogin, nor do I have the fortitude to live a life of Christian poverty, which would reject riches and live for service.  Where can we find the support in the yoga path to stay engaged and yet still live mindfully, fostering the expression and recognition of spirit in ourselves and others?

    In tantric philosophy, maya is understood somewhat differently than in classical yoga.  The maya is not the world itself.  When we think that getting and having and avoiding is all that there is and that it is separate from spirit, then  our lives are cloaked by maya, and we are ignorant (avidya) of the true bliss of spirit (satcitananda).  To know spirit, we must see through maya.  To do that requires discrimination (viveka) in what we take into our senses and ethically responsible action in the tangible world to align our lives in a way that expands the opportunity to recognize spirit, which in my mind includes having less material disparity in society, which disparity most assuredly makes the essential truth of blissful consciousness more opaque (due to the play of maya) for both the haves and the have nots.  While we make our attempt to live with more discrimination and grace and with less cause of conflict or suffering (doing better some times than others), we still try to recognize and savor the exquisite divine in each sight and taste and sound and creation.  How extraordinary always is New York in all its wild manifestation!

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    New Page About Books

    ByElizabeth

    It should come as no surprise to those who have taken my classes or have been reading this blog with some regularity, that an incredibly important source of inspiration is my library.  At the suggestion of my fabulous web designer, who is currently in graduate school for library sciences, I have gone live with a  library page. Given the nature of a blog; everything I have read is really part of its bibliography; this is the much edited version.  I am using Library Thing, which is a fascinating space for book nerds in the electronic universe.  I hope that you will enjoy this opportunity to expand the dialogue about books in our lives, our studies, and our practices.

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    Watching the Clouds Dissipate

    ByElizabeth

    Tonight (technically very early tomorrow morning), will be the first full lunar eclipse on the winter solstice in 350 years. Part of me wants the sky to be clear so that I can witness this extraordinary event. The other part yearns for a cloudy forecast so I can stay warm in my bed at 3 a.m. without feeling that it would be my own inaction that led me to miss the eclipse.

    I think we all feel this way about our practice sometimes. We want to have the great openings that come from a deep and steady practice, but it would be oh so nice if they came without effort. And an excuse not to practice that comes from somewhere out of our control makes it so much easier to accept not getting the benefits.

    Unlike a cloud cover blocking our view of the moon, though, there aren’t many things that actually prevent practicing, although they might change what kind of practices we can do at a particular time in our lives.