The Beginning of It All

Rama and Ravana from Sanjay Patel's Ramayana: The Divine Loophole

Listen friend:

Once upon a time, in India, there was a great war between the devas (gods) and the rakshasas (demons). The devas prayed to Vishnu, who answered their prayers and entered the fray.  The rakshasas fled Vishnu's wrath and hid in the underworld. All but Sumali.  During his wanderings on earth, he saw Kuvera, the god of wealth, flying in Pushpaka, the chariot-city.  Sumali became jealous of Kuvera. He felt that Kuvera flaunted his wealth, while the rakshasas lived a life of poverty under the Earth.

Sumali came up with a plan--he sent his daughter, Kaikasi, to seduce Kuvera's father, the sage Visrava, so that there may be a raksasa born with the same wealth as Kuvera.

Kaikasi approached Visrava with her request to become his wife.  Visrava granted this request, but since she came to him at an inauspicious time, he proclaimed that the products of their union would be hideous, cruel, flesh-eating night walkers.  Kaikasi begged for mercy.  Visrava, in his kindness, granted that although still a rakshasa, one of the children would be devoted to Dharma, and uphold religious standards.

Some time later, four children were born: Dasagriva, black as coal with ten heads and twenty arms; Kumbhakarna, who rapidly grew into a giant with a giant appetite for flesh; Surpanakha, lustful, cruel, vengeful; and Vibishana, the good demon, always focused on righteousness.

One day Kaikasi played with Dasagriva and his step-brother Kuvera flew overhead in Pushpaka chariot. Kaikasi said "See your brother, how he shows his wealth?  Obtain riches so that you can be like him."

Dasagriva resolved to have more wealth than his brother.  He began a life of strict asceticism: praying, doing penance, reciting mantra for hundreds of years.

Nothing happened.

He resolved to perform harsher penance, cutting off one of his own heads for every 1000 years the gods did not listen to him.

Every 1000 years for 9000 years Dasagriva cut off one of his heads and offered it to the the sacrificial fire. At the end of his 10,000th year of meditation, he prepared to cut off his final head.

Brahma appeared before him and held his sword.

"Your intense single-pointed focus has gained my attention, and I cannot bear the violence you commit against your own body. Ask for a boon and it shall be yours."

Dasagriva needed no time to think.  The boon he would ask for occupied his entire focus for 9000 years:
"No god or celestial being shall be able to kill me."

"It is so," declared Brahma.  "Your brothers have also earned great merit through their co-penance. Ask me for a boon."

Before Kumbakarna, the giant, could speak, the goddess of speech, Saraswati, entered his mouth and spoke for him: "I hate this wretched world.  Let me sleep for 6 months for every day that I am awake."

"It is so," granted Brahma.  Kumbakarna immediately fell asleep.  Saraswati's trick saved all of the living beings in the world from ending up in Kumbakarna's belly.

Brahma turned to Vibishana, the good demon.

"Grandfather, may I always remember the Lord and uphold Dharma."

"It is so."

With Brahma's book, Dasagriva took himself to be invincible. His ten heads held ten inflated egos, and he went on a rampage subjugating all of the gods who were now powerless against him.  The rakshasas, no longer afraid of the gods, returned from the underworld and fought at Dasagriva's side.  Fearless, the night-walkers gorged themselves on flesh.

Dasagriva and his demon army attacked Indra and the gods in the heavens.  With Brahma's boon as his shield and terrible weapons in his twenty hands, Dasagriva easily defeated the gods. For all of the slaughter and cruelty he committed, Dasagriva earned the name Ravana, "He who makes the universe scream."


Satisfied that he now ruled heaven and Earth, Ravana set out to conquer the realm of Death and even Shiva himself.

But that tale is for another night.

(Adapted with devotion and love from William Buck's, Krishna Dharma's, and Sanjay Patel's retellings of Valmiki's Ramayana)

The Other Picture

"The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close-up." ~ Chuck Palahniuk Lullaby

  
We are faced with a Catch-22 in our yoga practice: do we look at the big picture or the little picture?

The goal of our practice is to be able to see all the pictures at once, something that we are not currently equipped to do.  The yogis even tell us so: we can't see everything until we become united with God.  See Arjuna being granted divine sight by Krishna to see His actual form.  Arjuna begged for the vision to stop because he could not handle it.

If we look at the big picture, full-blown enlightenment, joining our small part to the something bigger, realizing that all is one, we face the danger of becoming apathetic.

"It will all work out in the end."

"God will provide."

We can forget that there is actual work to do.  That God created this challenge, this job, penicillin, to provide us with the means to gradually develop the capacity for final union. Being unprepared and trying to plug into God is like plugging our toaster directly into the Hoover Dam.  Your bread will toast alright, into millions of tiny fried atom. Instantly.  Then what good are they?

If we focus on the details, the position and rotation of our spleen in relation to the spiral of our plantar tendon, moving .04 degrees medial, then we run the risk of forgetting why we are doing what we do.

We are kept in the physical realm.

Meat puppets.

Both pictures contain the others. Every strand of our DNA contains the code to the total us.  The total us is the sum total of our building blocks. All too often, we select to focus on one instead of the other.

Luckily, the yogis prescribe a cure for this: Do Something.

Whatever that something is, do a lot of it.

For a long time.

Gradually, like a series of Grandfather clocks placed against the same wall, the big and little pictures will sync up.

Do Warrior 1.  Sing. Breathe. Sit. Forget that there is a picture to look at. Do that thing until you forget that you are doing that thing. Then do it some more.

And someday, like one of those Magic Eye posters from the 90's, clarity will pop out from the clutter.

And we will see both pictures at once, all of the time.

Yoga-gogy / Yoga-cation

Pedagogy is not a word that we associate with yoga classes.  We use the word in higher-ed like the Smurfs use smurf—as the answer to both what we do and the reason we do it. But, like inconceivable, I do not think it means what you think it means.

Pedagogy is the art and science of teaching.  From the Greek pedagogos, slave who takes children to school (Merriam Webster online).  Technically pedagogy refers to teaching children, not adults.  We’ll forgive correct usage in favor of common usage here.

We go to a yoga class, implying there is some sort of education happening. Both students and teachers should know the objective of the class.  Patanjali defines yoga as “The cessation of the fluctuations of the mind.” (PYS I.2)  For a class to be called yoga, it must specifically involve an investigation into:

1.       The mind

2.       Its fluctuations

3.       Methods leading to the cessation of these fluctuations.

A class which does not involve all three of these items can be safely laid aside as choreographed stretching.

Yoga classes are primarily focused on asana, to a much less extent pranayama, to even less of an extent concentration (dharana).  Asana is a great investigative tool when used correctly.  The role of the teacher is to present the physical movements as a microcosm for the movements of the mind. If we can apply attention and focus to make our bodies move in ways we don’t normally move, we can develop the same attention and focus to observe the mind and stem its movements.

The physical movements of the body are the means, not the end. When the teacher teaches asana from this perspective, then they are teaching yoga.

We have the teachings which are valid, and (presumably) a teacher who knows what they are talking about.  The last element needed in the triad which, like the legs of a milk stool, supports education is the student.

The student has a much harder job than the teacher—the teacher presents possibilities, the student must accept, internalize, and apply these possibilities on their own.  

Education in any form is not a concierge service. 

The money paid for a yoga class, like tuition, is not a tip.

Quality educators and quality facilities carry a price tag. As well they should. Do you really want discount teachers and discount facilities?

The teacher can do their best to present the teachings in an engaging manner, but if the student is not ready or willing to receive them, no amount of interaction, attention, bells or whistles is going to make any difference.  As teachers, we should not dumb down the material so everyone can get it.  We need to continue to present the teachings as they are.  When the student is ready to receive, they will.

That logic may not make sense from a business point of view, which screams get as many people through the door as possible.

From my point of view, I would rather provide one willing person with a quality yoga-cation than lead a room full of bodies through some choreographed stretches.

From a pedagogical point of view, we, as teachers, will best serve our students' educations by being diligent students ourselves: increasing our knowledge and implementing the teachings through our own continuing practice. 

 

Side Effects II: Doing the Unthinkable

We all have our little bit of crazy.  Mine is OCD about time.  Lateness, even the thought of being late, leads to an adverse physical reaction--agitation, increased heart rate, quickening breath.  I remember it starting in 2nd grade.  At 3 (or whatever time dismissal was) each class would line up to get on the buses. If it flipped 2:45 an we weren't already cleaned up, I fell to pieces.

I suppose I could go all psychobable and try to dissect what circumstances drove me to that state at such a young age.  But I am not going to  pin it on any outside force.  It is what it is.

How did I cope?  I never did. I worked for years in professional kitchens. 15 minutes early is 15 minutes late. I did not acquire a "kitchen mentality." I flourished in these jobs because the mentality was already there.

Last week I did something unthinkable for a time OCD person like myself--I over slept.


Frequent readers may remember that I get up for practice at Brahamamuhurta--the Hour of God 0400. I could write out the breakdown of my practice to nearly the minute--finishing The Chalisa? 0432. Savasana? 0527.

Imagine my surprise when my wife woke me up at 5:30.

Guess what?  The world did not end because I got an extra 1.5 hrs. of sleep.

The funny thing is that I did it to myself.  I have 2 alarms, the coffee maker which wakes me up when it starts, and the alarm on my phone set for 5 minutes later.

I set up the coffee maker.  I set the delay start.  I never turned it on.

I woke up in the night and realized I left my phone in another room.  I got it and placed it on my dresser.  I never turned the alarm on.

And yet, water is still wet.  The sky is still up.

Imagine my surprise to discover that I didn't really think twice about 'missing' a practice session.  I did not even feel very rushed, having to do my morning out of order.

I credit consistent practice for this. Without consistent practice, the whole day would have been shot from the get-go. But that practice, over time, gradually is making me a little more flexible. A little more ok with my neurosis.

Don't get me wrong, I still have 2 alarms set. But if I happen to get a little more sleep, well that is ok too.

Side Effects

One of the nice side effects of my yoga practice is that it has helped to cure my insomnia.  By getting up at 4 AM I am, in essence, messing with my circadian rhythms before they mess with me. I am man down by 10 PM if not earlier.  This is exactly what Swami Sivananda prescribes for sleeping: in bed by 10, up at 4.

I still have vivid dreams about zombies, things coming to get me that are lurking just outside the door, outside and cabinet doors that will not stay shut, papers due for books I haven’t read. 

But, you see, I used to dream about these things when I was awake.

It all started when I was 3.  My bladder woke me up. I rolled over and saw a monster at my door.  Logic says it was my mom or dad, they were backlit, and my eyes had not adjusted so I saw the outline of a black figure.  I never slept well after that. 

Logic means squat to a 3 year old.

Somewhere along the way I read about a certain type of demon that appears before sleeping children. I was old enough to know that was not true.  At least during the day.

The house we lived in when I was in college was very nice, but I did not sleep a wink there.  I could not fall asleep in my room.  The physical space creeped me out.The same feeling of being in a nightmare while wide awake.

I needed sleep, so I drank. A lot.

I used to have reoccurring dreams about the house I grew up in.  It was on a dirt road off of a dirt road. The kind of location where movies whose 6^th installments are named “So-and-so Returns” are set.  The dream starts off normally enough, then I can’t lock the door.  Or I close the door then turn around to find it opened again.  And there is something in the woods.  The last time I dreamed about the house I actually saw what was outside the window.  I will never go back to those woods.

I would come out of these nightmares hyper-aware.  The knowing that something is over there, around the corner, outside, in the shadow above my head remained at the same intensity. I was up for the rest of the night.

I used to dream that I woke up facing the wall (I always go to sleep facing the door of the room, never with my back exposed). Every time I tried to turn myself around and get out of bed, the room would revolve and I remained facing the wall. I screamed myself awake.

Thankfully this pattern that has plagued me for 35+ years has diminished.  Going to bed tired is one element. Japa of mantra before bed and immediately upon waking is another. I have had nightmares that have been turned around because I start shouting mantra in my dream.  The pattern did not change in an instant; gradually, every so gradually things changed.

Yoga is “The cessation of the fluctuations of the mind.” (PYS I.2) The effects of practicing yoga take longer to realize and are much more subtle than the effects of practicing postures alone. Postures will give you nice shoulders and a shapely bum, but a sustained yoga practice will re-wire your very being. I have experienced it in a very real and practical way.

It is nice not to be scared to go to sleep anymore. 

A Good Book

For 20 some years, the phrase "pray incessantly" has been in my head.  Since I first read Franny and Zoey (number 1 on my top 10 books of all time). Zoey references 1Thessalonians 5.17, where Timothy instructs "Pray continually." He also instructs "Always be joyful...give thanks for whatever happens; for this is what God wills for you." (5.16,18). Salinger wants you to look this up.

Until very recently, I considered prayer to be begging.

Groveling.

For intercession.

For material gain.

To make right some dumb ass decision or other. (Fight Club is #3)

Through my practice, I have discovered that prayer is none of these things.  It is much more  simple:

It is an act of adoration.

The beauty of prayer is that it does not have to be formal. Or done at a certain time.  It can be done all of the time.  The beauty of prayer is that you do not have to have any faith to do it.  From Swami Sivananda:

"The name of God chanted in any way, correctly or incorrectly, knowingly or unknowingly, carefully or carelessly will give the desired result." (Swami Sivananda, Easy Steps to Yoga p.6).

Prayer, true prayer, adoration, can begin as a purely mechanical action. You just train yourself to say it. Repeatedly..  It can be any Name.  The Rig Veda says "Truth is one, the wise call it by many names."  If the Divine is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, then the Divine created a multitude of ways of worship that are all equally valid.  (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas #4)

But you just can't say "Steve." Or "Sally." (Moby Dick #10).  Established prayers work best because the name, meter, words were developed to create certain vibrations.  The beauty of Sanskrit is the perfection of the sounds and the ability to create specific vibrations attuned to the Divine.

The significance of Gen. 1.3 is not "Let there be light."  It is "God said." (Dune #9).

I don't know when I replaced the focus on ujjayi breathing in asana with focusing on Ra (inhale) and Ma (exhale) (Ramayana #2).That is how I learned to make asana an act of prayer rather than just stretching. It is also when I knew the Ashtanga system was no longer right for me.

I forget to pray most of the time, usually during the main part of the day when I get caught up in work and it feels like there are unknown forces acting against me (anything by H.P. Lovecraft #5). I am still in the mechanical phase, having to remind myself to say the words over and over.  But I remember to say them when I wake up and before going to bed. Even when I forget, it is still in my mind somewhere, like a light across the bay that is always calling. (The Great Gatsby #6).

Praying incessantly is a good book. It doesn't matter if you are reading it, can analyze the symbolism, or even remember all of the characters. It matters that it is sitting on the shelf, there when you want to read it. It matters that flipping through the pages and reading one sentence is enough to snap you out of the funk you are in that moment. It matters that I can't choose #s 7 and 8 because they are all good books.

The Art of Not Adjusting

A lot of money can be spent on (and made from) learning (and teaching) how to adjust students in yoga asana.  This topic comprises a large amount of time in teacher trainings and is covered extensively in workshops and books.  Often these adjustments are taught as ways to guide the student to go “further into the pose,” to do the pose more “correctly,” or even to <blurg> “MASTER” / become “MORE ADVANCED” in the pose.

I want my students to do asana safely and to challenge themselves, however, I do not like to give many adjustments in my classes. I am not afraid to adjust; I do not doubt my ability to safely adjust. Not adjusting is a conscious decision I have made which is in line with my teaching philosophy:

The student learns best when they figure it out for themselves.

In the traditional guru-student relationship, the guru will instruct and admonish, but they do not magically bestow enlightenment on the student. They provide tools, support, and opportunities for success, yet the student maintains sole responsibility for putting those items into practice.

My thoughts on this topic are largely influenced by two things. The first is that I have a rigorous, disciplined home practice. I have not been to a yoga class in nearly 4 years.  This opportunity to practice under no immediate supervision has required me to learn pay more attention to where my body is in space and to self-recognize the differences between lazy/just right/too far and stay where you are/it’s time to go to the next step.  Such awareness is lessened when you put your practice in the hands of another—you feel, consciously or sub-consciously, that the teacher is looking out for you.

The second influence is comprised of the horrible adjustments I have been given by experienced, Yoga Journal featured teachers, who wrenched my body in to their interpretation of the pose.   The last classes I went to were at a conference at The Omega Institute.  I was adjusted in the same pose (Gomukasana, with the right arm up) by two different teachers. The first guided me to where my arm could go, and talked me through what was happening (Sri Dharma Mittra).  The other came up behind me and torqued my arm violently to where he thought it should be(shall remain nameless).  Very easy to see who taught for the student, and who taught for themselves. [On a side note, when I took a class at the later teacher’s center, I was violently adjusted several times in class by a different teacher. Unfortunate, in my opinion, that senior teachers who fanatically preach non-violence toward animals teach such violent techniques of adjustment to be used on humans.] 

Every asana has a multitude of expressions and substitutions. The preparation for any pose equals the pose itself.   Each student needs to figure out for themselves where their expression of the pose is today.   

Again, guidance so that the pose is done safely, good.

Forcing students into your idea of what the pose is, bad.

Letting someone put your body in a place where you cannot get to yourself is not a progression is your practice. Progression in practice is taking control of your own practice. 

Passivity and complacency, bad.

Persistence and analysis, good.

I seek to guide with fairly light adjustments, hinting at the direction of movement so the student can begin to learn where they are in space.  An example: In paschomottanasa, a rounded back is fairly common—my back rounds as well.  One adjustment is to lay on the student’s back, even putting your feet on the wall to apply your full body weight onto the student.  Yes, the student will fold.  They will also hurt tomorrow. In the lower back.  In the hamstrings.  And when you go away, the student will spring back into the shape they were previously.

Compare with having the students enter the pose with bent legs, keeping torso to thighs, and gradually straightening the legs.  When torso comes away from thigh, stop.  Now I can, with only two fingers, guide the student’s shoulders away from their ears; then, with light touch on either side of the spine (again with only 2 fingers),from hips to shoulders, encourage the student to straighten their spine. Now the student knows how to enter the pose safely, identify where they can work, and understands that the movement is primarily forward not downward. They can progress deeper into the pose at their own pace, yet still maintain the sensation of "working" in the pose without having to match exactly what the more flexible teacher can do.

As a teacher, lessening the amount of adjustments you do helps the students to learn more.  Again, offer correction so they are not injuring themselves, yet let them work in the pose.  Instead of adjusting every pose, guide them through example. Tell them what you want them to do, offering different places to work along the way so all levels can find some expression.  Show them (yes, this means you yourself have to have practiced what you are teaching).  Let them do.  Let them work. Let them be challenged.  Let them know they are in charge of their education.

Let the student know this is their practice.

This is teaching to the top of the class, setting the benchmark that the students’ are in charge of their own education.  You, the teacher, are there as a guide; the students are there to practice.