Food for the Mind (Yoga Philosophy, etc)

Contemplations on readings and yoga philosophy.

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    Robin Redbreasts (and the importance of sequencing in time and space)

    ByElizabeth

    I am working from home today.  I looked out of my window and saw a flurry of birds going from one roof to another.  There were the usual starlings, but among them were five robin redbreasts.  They definitely do not belong here this time of year.  Instead of getting the usual song in my heart from the first sighting of the robin redbreast of spring, I am filled with concern.  What are they doing here?  Will they survive?  How can they get worms out of the frozen ground?  Have they been confused by the warming pattern over the last several years?

    I know that the robins are out of place here this time of year from a combination of learning and observing over the years what is supposed to be their season in this part of the world.  So too with many things that at one time a place, a practice, a relationship will serve and another will take us away from what is optimal.  As with yoga practice, we learn for ourselves and what is around us, what is optimal when and where, by a combination of study and practice.

    There were also a few gulls. We see those around town sometimes because of the tidal basin, but not usually here in my back alley.  Is there some kind of special bird conference going on that I was privileged to witness?

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    The Exquisiteness of Order (Winter Theme)

    ByElizabeth

    By order, I mean how things are arranged in space or time.  Even chaos theory presumes order in that sense.  On and off the mat, there is a certain order to things that is optimal.  We do not plant seeds and then till the soil.  Or think of the difference between peeling and chopping vegetables and then cooking them or cooking them and then peeling and chopping them.  One or the other is not necessarily wrong if you do not have a specific dish in mind, but which you choose will dictate the results. Once you have gotten started in the sequence, though, the path shifts and is partly set.  To reach an exquisite rather than a disgusting result, the next steps are ordered by the initial choice.

    If only one musician is playing a single note, then there is no possibility of discordance.  Add more musicians and more notes and who plays what notes when can mean cacophony, a catchy tune, or an extraordinary and ecstatic work of art.  None of us are alone and none of us are playing just a single note, so in the great fabric of our being, it is best to understand how to make music.

    Sequencing on the mat is more subtle than what poses should be done in what order in a particular practice to emphasize backbends v. forward bends and twists to be able to do the strongest poses with the least possibility of injury, as important as that is.  The order in which we apply the Anusara principles not only aligns the physical body, but brings symmetry to the physical and energetic bodies, helping us to feel more in harmony in everything we do on and off the mat.  I am, in this, a decent musician and not Bach, but the more I pay attention to the optimal sequence of things (keeping in mind that over most things we have no control as to when, whether, and how they happen) and the more I learn and appreciate the exquisiteness of order, the more I feel, understand, and experience the subtleties and joys of harmony.

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    The Fisherman and His Nets

    ByElizabeth

    dorothy

    Earlier this week, I took a wonderful class with my friend J, who is an Anusara teacher based in NYC.  She started class telling a story of a fisherman.  The fisherman had worked hard and long during the spring, summer, and fall and was looking forward to a rest during the winter months.  He left his boat and went ashore, looking for shelter.  He came upon a brightly lit house and was invited in by a friendly host.  He was given a delicious meal and then brought to a beautiful bedroom with a fabulously made, soft bed with exquisitely scented linens.  He got into the bed, but tossed and turned and could not sleep.  Agitated by his inability to sleep, he left the house, went back to his boat, wrapped himself in his fishy-smelling nets and promptly fell sound asleep.

    J interpreted the story as saying that our familiar patterns bind us and keep us from discovering and receiving true beauty and bliss.  This interpretation resonated with the students; one called out in a conversation about the quantity of nets we have, that she could alphabetize hers, and we all laughed.  I heard something different in the story, though perhaps it was because I had seen part of The Wizard of Oz when channel-surfing in my hotel room the night before.  What I heard was that when we accept our work and our place, we find a place of true rest.  When the fisherman realized that his place was on his boat — at home with his work, instead of seeking ethereal bliss — then he found peace and true rest (“there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…”)

    What is missing from the movie version of The Wizard of Oz, though, is that in later books, Dorothy goes back to the land of Oz, bringing her family and work (albeit that of a child) with her.  She, in effect, integrates the importance of prosaic home and work life with being in a land of enchantment.  In that, both interpretations of the story of the fisherman are partly true.  We need not to let our old habits bind us, but we also need not to cast off work, home, and community as things that interfere with our discovering bliss.  Instead, we need to find enchantment in our very being, as we live and work and relate in this world.

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    Happy New Year (and vegan Hoppin’ John variant)

    ByElizabeth

    Having grown up in the New York metropolitan area without much in the way of traditions of any kind, I was not familiar with Hoppin’ John.  I am fairly certain that the first time I heard of it was from a college friend whose family has been in South Carolina since before the Revolution.  As it is not part of my tradition, I do not feel bound to any particular recipe (I am sure it is sacrilege in some circles to leave out the ham/bacon) or to eating it at any particular time of day (e.g., immediately after the clock strikes 12 midnight).  It would not be Hoppin’ John, though, if I did not know its tradition and know where I was deviating from tradition.  (Though this would entail a much longer blog than is within my time frame today, this balance of freedom from tradition and needing to know and honor tradition is very much an issue for the Western yoga practitioner.)

    1.  Soak a cup of dried black-eyed peas for at least several hours or overnight.

    2.  Dice one small onion or 1/2 large onion (about a cup), a few celery stalks, including the leaves, and mince a couple of cloves of garlic.

    3.  Heat a few tablespoons of a flavorless oil (peanut, corn, or safflower) in a pressure cooker (my preferred method for saving energy and time) or a stock/stew pot.

    4.  Saute seasoning vegetables along with a few hot peppers until onion is translucent.  I used the last habanero from my harvest and so left it whole.  You can use fresh or dried chilis in an amount to your taste/tolerance for spiciness.

    5.  Stir in a cup of brown rice until rice is coated with oil.

    6.  Pour in 1/4-1/2 cup of white wine and stir until absorbed (as if making risotto).  [You could use stock instead.  If you are using white rice, skip this step, which serves to partially cook the brown rice, so that it will take the same amount of time as the black-eyed peas.]

    7.  Crumble in some dried thyme (preferably from your own garden) and a bay leaf or two.

    8.  Drain and rinse the soaked black-eyed peas and stir into the cooking pot until all ingredients are combined.

    9.  Add one 28 ounce can of diced tomatoes and 2 1/2 – 3 cups of vegetable stock or water.  How much liquid depends on (a) whether you want a soupy consistency or one more like pilaf or risotto; (b) how liquid are the tomatoes; (c) whether you are using a pressure cooker (less liquid needed) or cooking in a pot.

    10.  If using a pressure cooker, cover and bring to full pressure, then lower heat and cook at full pressure for 28 minutes.  Allow natural pressure release (about 15-20 minutes additional).  If cooking in a regular pot, bring to a boil, stir, then lower heat and cook for an hour or more until rice and peas are tender, stirring occasionally.

    11.  While rice and peas are cooking, mince a few cloves of garlic.

    12.  Rinse and chop several handfuls of greens (collard or curly kale are best; don’t use spinach or chard, they are too tender).  Heat oil and garlic together.  When garlic start sizzle, add damp greens and saute until greens are wilted and dry.

    13.  When rice and peas have finished cooking, stir in sauteed greens and bring back up to full heat.  Adjust seasonings, adding more salt and your favorite hot sauce to taste (or allow guests to add their own hot sauce at the table).

    I don’t know whether having eaten this will bring me luck and prosperity, but I’ve started the year with lots of vitamins, minerals, fiber, flavor, and cooking, which for me means health, love, technique, tradition, flexibility, and joy!  Try this, make your own, read all about Hoppin’ John, or call a friend from the South who must eat Hoppin’ John on the New Year and learn about the tradition and what it means.

  • Dreaming of Rain, Actuality, and Viveka (yogic discrimination)

    ByElizabeth

    Last night I dreamed that it snowed a couple of inches and then turned to rain, which melted the snow.  As happens more and more often with my dreams, I was conscious that I was dreaming and knew that the snow still fell madly outside.  As I practice more and more over a long period of time, I am experiencing a growing ability to discriminate between dreaming and waking.  Yoga talks about the principle of viveka, the ability to discriminate between the real and the unreal.  Being able to distinguish among the four states of being (waking, dreaming, unconsciousness, and turiya — the fourth state) is part of this practice.

    As I practice more, I have experienced that when waking, with this type of discrimination, I am more subtly able to discern the difference between empty wishes or anxieties (so as better to release them) and what are possibilities (so to be able to expand my boundaries and awareness).  Cultivating such discrimination can bring greater personal peace by allowing for a combination of fuller acceptance and growth.

    Although I was disappointed the snow did not turn to rain, I will do my best to enjoy it.  I’m not going to be able to melt it anywhere but in my dreams.

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    Coming Snowstorm (and Heyam Dukham Anagatam)

    ByElizabeth

    As I think about whether I will be able to get up to Willow Street to teach my last classes of the session, how much shoveling I will need to do , whether the next forecast storm (middle of next week) might create challenges for my planned trip to NY, etc, etc, my favorite (well, in the top 10) sutra of Patanjali, sprang to mind:  heyam dukham anagatam, 2.16, which means roughly:  the pain that has yet to come can be avoided.

    I have several translations/commentaries of the Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras in my library.  All have a different spin on what this means in practice.  What I know is that it is at least partly about being in the present and taking things as they come.  One should still practice and plan.  By practicing and planning, we are better prepared for inevitable pains and challenges.  (For those of you who are giddy with excitement with the thought of a “white Christmas,” this Sutra still helps.  Part of the pain that can be avoided is disappointment when expectations are not realized the way we hoped they would be realized.)  Once we have prepared in a healthy way, though, there is no point in agonizing about what might come, in being in pain in the present because of the possibility (or even inevitability) of a future pain.

    The snow seems inevitable.  I am charging my camera battery.  I’m picking what is probably the last of the chard and the baby leeks from the garden, and I am getting ready for Serenity Saturday restoratives.  As long as I can walk to the studio — eight inches is just plain fun, not impassable — I’ll be there with a warm and full offering.  In the meantime, I am enjoying my day instead of worrying about the potential barriers to enjoyment.

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    The Terracotta Warriors of Emperor Qin (and Iccha Shakti)

    ByElizabeth

    I went today with my younger sister and brother-in-law to see the Terracotta Warriors exhibit at the National Geographic Museum.  Even with only a few of the warriors and photographs of the site, it is possible to imagine the sheer magnitude of the vision of thousands of these life-sized images living underground at the tomb of the Emperor.  I then thought of how vast must have been the Emperor’s yearning for power and the wildness of his vision of this extraordinary tomb for it to have become manifest.  Trying to expand my imagination to understand the reality of such ambition and creativity I thought of the principle of iccha shakti.  Iccha shakti is the very will of consciousness to be, to creatively manifest, to become diversified embodiment out the universal.  Ego and will are not themselves bad, but our very freedom allows us to choose a path that is out of alignment with the principles of joy and unity.

    The Terracotta Warriors show the immense possibilities of exercising will.  In their very existence and the manner of their coming into being, they evidence both enormous cruelty and disdain for life and a wondrous manifestation of human creativity, collaboration, and effort.  One of the goals of yoga, in teaching us the possibilities of our own freedom and creativity, is to lead us to choose a life that is progressively better aligned with nature and with all of beings.  This is the path of one who practices, and I find it ever a challenge.

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    Robber Barons v. Philanthropists (a memory triggered by reading the 1994 New Yorker article on SYDA Yoga)

    ByElizabeth

    When I was in eighth grade, my history teacher, Mr. B,  assigned to the class engaging in a debate as to whether Rockefeller, Carnegie, and Mellon were philanthropists or robber barons.  We were put in teams and told which side we had to argue.  When we were given the assignment, I went to Mr. B privately and said it was not possible to argue one side or the other.  These men were only able to be philanthropists at their level of giving because of the money they had made as robber barons.  My teacher said that was an unacceptable position.  I was to argue the position I was assigned, I was wrong that it was not an either or debate.  I should understand that what was critical to this debate was which aspect was the elemental identifying characteristic.

    Where I think was our real difference of opinion was that Mr. B thought that one could/should not recognize both enormous evil and enormous good in the same person.  If one was evil, then the good was essentially irrelevant.  If one had done tremendous good, then it should not matter if there was bad along the way.  I tend to see the whole.  I take the good where I find it (for example, I have found great truth and utility in the writings of Swamis Muktananda and Chidvilasananda although I would not recognize either as my “guru”), but do not expect the “bad” to be absent or non-coexistent with the “good” and tend to be outspoken in my recognition of both.  I still sometimes get in trouble for this.