It was raining and that was the smallest of discomforts compared to the suffering being funded by our government.
I do not have the courage to refuse to pay taxes. I am willing, however, to give away enough of that portion of my retirement savings that has undeniably been bloated by a war economy to offset most of my tax liability.
How are you manifesting your dharma these days?
Yesterday I walked over to the White House and joined at the final step of a pilgrimage for peace in Gaza. Among the walkers and those giving voice at the White House were Jews, Muslims, Catholics, Baptists, AME, Hindus, Quakers, Lutherans, and other Christian denominations.
The speaker representing Hindus for Human Rights said this was a shanti yatra—literally a pilgrimage for peace. Every step, every action, every word for peace a prayer embodied.
I went to a Lenten service for ceasefire that was led in front of the White House today. First there was a Catholic Mass and then an ecumenical service.
I sometimes participate in religious rituals outside of my own, as a way of honoring our shared and diverse experience of being.
This is the first time I have gone to a Christian service on Ash Wednesday. No ashes for me. I was willing to, however, to participate in the invitation to participate in a call and response. The speaker listed the heinous atrocities that our tax dollars are funding, and the response was the acknowledgment that “I have blood on my hands.”
I’m still complicit even if I am letting those with power know that I do not agree, although that is better than being silent. One of the religious speakers suggested that repentance does not mean regret. It means acknowledgement and a change of behavior.
At the Thillai Kali temple in Chidambaram, and at other temples I am sure, but that was where I particularly noticed this aspect, there is a mirror on the altar, so that one also sees one’s reflection when watching the abhisheka puja.
One is there, too, along with the priests and the gods—watching and a part.
It appears from my long silence here (but not on other social media, where I am regularly posting photos), whatever I might have to say about yoga has been eclipsed by the fact that when I think to write about anything else, I think about calls for peace and justice and, and, and…
I say this then to those, like me, who are not struggling to have enough food and a safe place to sleep and have either never known or long forgotten what that is like, I use what I have learned from my practice of asana to keep my bones and muscles in alignment and I meditate to keep perspective. I make sure to be contributing in someway to share the safety and abundance I am privileged to enjoy, and I question myself regularly about whether I have the capability and capacity to do more.
And —a key teaching of yoga from my perspective— I let myself have hits of joy from encounters with beauty. Every day.
How are you holding up?
