God's Breath

In planning a yoga class for a weekend session at Bosch this weekend that will focus on The Seven Valleys and other mystical writings of Bahá'u'lláh, I came across the following quote:

O Son of the Wondrous Vision!

I have breathed within thee a breath of My own Spirit, that thou mayest be My lover. Why hast thou forsaken Me and sought a beloved other than Me?

-Bahá'u'lláh, The Hidden Words

Sculpi

If I had sculpi tonight, I would create a dolphin. (sculpi, for those of you who don't know, is very vibrantly colored sculpt-able dough that you can bake to harden into the form of your creation)
Interesting how that's the vision I got after clearing my mind in yoga class this evening.

Reflections from the Mat

I feel grateful this evening to have a regular yoga practice.
I feel grateful this evening for my level of energy in my practice -- greater than often and even in spite of little sleep this weekend.
I feel grateful this evening for the strength of my body, and for its balance.

* * *

This evening in our practice there was a new student--new not just to the class, but to yoga. I noticed throughout the class that my thoughts were often preoccupied with wondering if he was enjoying himself, if he was developing a love for yoga. At times I felt the class too slow, too dull, and felt concerned that this might be a boring pace, that this new student would better desire more strengthening postures. When such thoughts crossed my mind, I at times felt a little dismay, thinking how unfortunate that tonight's class should be such a break from our regular routine, that surely he would like our regular classes. How repetitive it seemed tonight, at times. So many swan dives down. So much energy I expended on this silent concern for another. How often us humans do this? (or is it just me?) Surely consideration for others is good. Yet, where do we draw the line? (this one is definitely a challenge for me). While concern for others is good, I found myself observing at the end of class how much energy I'd wasted in concern. If I wanted this man to enjoy his new yoga practice, perhaps it would have been better for me to send him loving energy, to send him peace, patience and focus. After all these thoughts, I was humbled to overhear him walk up to our instructor, D, after class and tell her that he'd loved it. Om shanti shanti.

Wisom from the Mat

Today my yoga teacher said, "Your mind is like a pet; you have to train it."

An interesting thought, though I doubt I would have ever put it quite like that. Yet, how true it is that we have to train our minds. Certainly mindfulness can be learned.

When I reflect back on the 8-9 years now that I've been practicing yoga, I think of how hard it was for me in the first few years of my practice to clear my mind during shavasana. My experience was that by trying too hard I often judged myself for not being "successful" in the task. Now I can clear my mind more readily, and I've learned that it is a function of training, of developing detachment, of not moving to a place of judgment when thoughts come in, but rather watching them come and joy with ease.

From the mat to the world

After a mighty fish posh, with back arched, weight on my forearms and the crown of my head touching ever so gently to the floor, I replaced my spine, shoulders, head, arms and hands on the floor, preparing for shavasana, and there was a moment when I suddenly found myself like something out of a Salvador Dalí painting, in perfect stillness and the silence of my breath, where I became the floorIdidn't even melt into it I simply observed no distinction in level between my back and shoulders or the floor i could not tell where the floor began or stopped around me i simply was, it was, we were and discovered perfect unity with this inanimate object, but not just any, with the very base of the things. And if I can find that oneness for a few moments with the floor beams in yoga class, why not take that to the next level? for a few more minutes, as the instructor's voice becomes one with the ligaments of my legs as she calls our awareness to them, or to the student next to me who is the same as me and has a block that also needs to be put away at the end of class, or as I drive home with a beautiful sunset in front of me, a sky lit with pastel purples and pinks and yes, how I love the beauty of this place, or now as i type and my fingers find their own voice as i close my eyes and the typing simply flows from me, flows itself almost as if of its own accord.
How can i extend this to find unity in everything? each precious moment, thing, is it not a part of me, of God? 'tis.

Goodnight Moon

This evening I had a marvelous yoga class. I am so grateful to finally to returning to my regular practice after several weeks hiatus during weeks of visitors. Yet, this evening I became quite teary-eyed because t'was the last class of my fabulous instructor Moondance, who had a baby girl just a few months ago.

Tis amazing that my heart can form such a strong connection to someone in a setting where I typically silently enter, turn inward, and quietly leave. Only on a few occasions have I paused after class to converse with her, and yet her teaching has been such a beautiful gift in my life. Her teaching has given me a clear sense of preference of yoga styles (vinyasa, thank you).

As I write this, I am given cause to think that moving connections with others must not necessarily involve conversation (which makes me think of what AA was saying the other evening about discovering silence with another person), nor knowing general trivia about another person's likes and personal life. There is something about yoga that can produce a connection of spirit between a student and her teacher. Ours was a relationship so entirely based on generosity, on her giving, and our (the students') receiving. I have at times wondered what it must feel like to be a yoga teacher, to give of yourself so fully while others come and go, enter class to find solace in themselves and the guidance of your words, the sequences you have thoughtfully put together, the music you have carefully selected. Such teachers are models of detachment. Surely they must recognition the gift of service, the light-filling energy their teaching brings to the world.

"May all beings benefit from our practice. Namaste."
Thank you Moondance.

**for those who are not familiar with the title of this post, it is in reference to a very famous children's book by Margaret Wise Brown, which seemed appropriate for honoring Moondance, who is giving up teaching yoga for now to spend more time with her infant daughter.

Returning to the Mat

It's amazing how a week and a half off from yoga (doctor's instructions) brought me such a renewed appreciation when I returned to the mat and to class today. Returning to the mat...

my spirit calms
my anxieties float away
my resistance subsides
I find my breath
I find my heart
I find my feet, rejoined with the earth
I find my arms, stretching to the sky
I find my drishti, soft
I find my liver, healthy
I find my spirit rising
I find balance
I find strength
I find effort
I find energy
I find vitality
I find forgiveness
I find peace
I find thankfulness
I find love.

Breath

Let each single breath
Be like an infinite string
Drawing you to God.

Wisdom from the mat: Perfect bodies

My yoga teacher often shares some pearls of wisdom, which I think I might share out here now and then so that more beings may benefit from our practice. Tonight I was particularly struck by the following:

"We sometimes trick ourselves into thinking our bodies aren't perfect. Forgive yourself for that misrepresentation. Because it is... at this stage in its evolution." -Moondance

Amen. Actually, whether or not our bodies are "perfect" to me seems beside the point, though it's a lovely thought. I think the most important thing is accepting and loving the body wherever it's at, appreciating all that it does for us, recognizing what even pains and illness can teach us, and to detach from the self-judgment that most of us too frequently engage in. I could write volumes on this topic.