Santosha

Santosha (सन्तोष), contentment, is one of the niyamas of Yoga. "The deepest contentment comes at those moments when we feel we are in the flow of life, when we are communing with nature, when our energies are positive and when we have no desires. By being conscious of these moments, we can strengthen, expand and sustain the feeling of contentment for longer periods of time. Even when we are surrounded by chaos and disharmony, we can return to this feeling and find ourselves back in a place of peace and quietude." (Read more here)

I have always gravitated, geographically, toward places that during 3/4 of the year are soggy, gray and cold. Every time I lived somewhere even vaguely equatorial, I want so badly to inhabit the role of sun drenched beach waif. It just has never fit my constitution, though. Something about endless summer seems a bit too solicitous and shrill to me.

So today in Portland the sky opened up and the rain came down in sheets. The Willamette is swollen, pissed off and flat as glass. All of the boats docked in the harbor look too optimistically white. Dusk followed a colorless afternoon of clouds and fog. And I loved it. I was eating it up. Maybe, I reasoned, I just love seasons.

I biked 4 miles in the pouring rain to get a checkup at OHSU. The hospital is a fairly bustling place situated at the top of one of the tallest hills (affectionately dubbed 'Pill Hill') in Portland. The walkway near the tram affords a striking view of Mt. Hood (on a good day) and on a day like today a bird's eye view of fluffy trees, Victorian houses, highways and bridges jammed with rush hour traffic flowing in both directions. The trees seemed more plump. A man was taking his girlfriend's children on the tram and they were chattering away about what they could spot from the deck and would the cable ride down the hill be scary.

I felt so happy. Really good. I was taken by the 'cuteness' of the city - as if I were seeing it through a traveler's eyes. I was touched by the chatter of the kids and even by a woman in her 60s being a bit of pill to her elderly mother. I thought, "Oh god, do we kids never get over that?" And the thought made me laugh as I imagined myself 30 years from now annoyed with my poor mom over stuff that only I somehow can tell is annoying. It felt great to be soggy and great to be cold and great to be flipping on my bicycle's generator switch at 5 p.m. Mostly, though I felt grateful. I am not sure to whom or about what, but I wanted to thank someone.

I listened to a teaching by Pema Chodron on Shantideva's Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life and particularly the teaching on the paramita of patience. Most teachings contain so many tools that I could apply to my life and - in most cases - could easily get discouraged about what a lousy job I am currently doing at applying them; however, I always try to walk away with one small thing that I think I can realistically incorporate into my practice with at least a small amount of discipline. In this case I tried what Pema called "cheerfulness practice." She described it like this: “Cheerfulness practice is not letting pleasantness or kindness or anything that feels good in your life go by, but actually noting it.”

For weeks I have been practicing with these instructions. Even when I have had moody or sad moments I try to pick something, anything, that brightens my spirits or is comforting. Seriously, anything. One night I was noticing how my mind was spinning about a tense exchange I'd had with a man in my neighborhood. As I biked along, stewing, I noticed the neighborhood porch lights' glow. I made a point of saying to myself, "Hmmmm, pretty." There have been a few moments since then when I feel really challenged to find anything positive to note. If I can, I make myself a cup of tea and appreciate - for just a moment - the feeling of warmth as I hold the mug. And, honestly, I felt like none of that crap was making any difference. Ha ha ha! It's true.

But the past week , if nothing else, has given me the chance to rethink that. Politics. Financial collapse. Recession. Weird mojo in the universe, man - I am not kidding. These aren't just concepts. I watched two of my friends' businesses go under in recent weeks. They were heartbroken and raw and I can relate. When stuff like that 'happens to me' my normal habit is to spin out on it - to just let my negative mind go wild.

I have been working for years with asana and mediation to try and tame my body and mind, but this cheerfulness practice - santosha - is what is currently making a big impact. Today, and in the last week, I have still felt hurt and confused as sad and painful events unfold, but what has struck me most is a very authentic sense of happiness that is there, too. I can hardly believe it. It amazes me! It's not made up and doesn't feel like a put on on. Having that there really encourages me to continue this practice and every time I notice it I feel grateful.

Aspiration:

Keep it it up, yo.

Cracking a smile

ahamkāra: the part of your consciousness (chitta) that is self-aware and deals with wants and desires. It is also referred to as the ego.

One way to understand and manage the ahamkāra is to practice vairāgya. Vairāgya is often defined as detachment, which implies a breaking away from or renouncing of needs and desires. However, a better way to think of it might be nonattachment—the idea of not clinging to things or emotions. Instead of rejecting or turning away from the outside world, you are not letting yourself get distracted or upset by it.
Click here to read more from the original source.

Working with resistance in yoga is one of the greatest gifts of the physical practice. Whereas the mind can rather subtly convince us that our resistance is gone, our physical rigidity is more difficult to deny. In this way our asana practice can be seen as a powerful tool in our spiritual development - the means for cultivating a more supple outlook and maturity not only in our bodies, but also in our thoughts, actions and words.

The other day I took a Nia class with a group of folks going through Recess' Health Immersion Program. It brought up, for me, this concept of ego clinging and its antidote, non-attachment. I wrote this note to some of the participants in the class:

A relatively new concept in the world of mainstream health is one of resilience. It looks a lot like Recess’ 6 steps (or, they look like it?). It's taking small steps to create a lifestyle that helps us through the inevitable peaks and valleys of life without giving up something central - our vitality and wellbeing.

Being well certainly doesn't mean being happy all of the time. Neither does it mean being Debbie Downer and dead serious or cynical all of the time. Today's Nia class really made me laugh – for a lot of different reasons. In some moments I wondered what might have been going on for some of you. Let me share why.

4 years ago I would not have been caught dead chopping my hands and shouting "HAH!" on the exhale. I've always been kind of a spaz, but stuff like saying "ohm" in yoga, or shouting on an exhale in martial arts just seemed a little too wacky for me. I felt totally silly. Truth be told, though, I also noticed that a lot of my thoughts during the course of a day were spent silently criticizing others in subtle ways for acting against the grain of what I felt was normal, cool, or otherwise acceptable.

I usually never verbalized this stuff and I knew it was silly of me, but the hard part was that when I really started looking in to it I actually spent a lot of time criticizing myself that way, too.

Honestly, it was a pretty exhausting posture to maintain. You’ve probably noticed that I talk a lot. Well, during the course of any given day there were so many opportunities to criticize myself for something stupid I said, an embarrassing gaff I made, a mistake in my work, a goofy face I made during an inappropriate moment in the conversation, a time when I wasn’t keeping up with my friends or colleagues, a time when I was excelling and then I acted like an arrogant jerk. You know this list. It goes on and on and on and on. Even today I still marvel. I mean, seriously, it’s a wonder that I ever got anything done with the amount of effort I spent constantly analyzing my every move post-facto and then berating myself for it!

So then I started a business. That was fun. I mean I’d been someone else’s hotshot hired gun for years. Even with my non-stop list of flaws, I still thought I was pretty hot stuff. Now, every day of my life presented me with rather glaring examples of how I was a TOTAL nincompoop. If your ego EVER needs a beat down I suggest you start a business. It’s like the most expensive therapy you will ever buy and with no positive affirmations. The great part, though, was that I didn’t have even a shred of energy or time anymore to devote to that cynical, nasty voice in my head that was always on my case.

Every time it would start in “Oh my god, that was sooooo stupid,” I would just have to shrug my shoulders and say “Oh well. It’s done. I guess I just have to do better next time.” That conversation with myself happened over and over and over and still happens today. Now though, I find that the voice doesn’t try as hard to convince me of all the ways that I don’t measure up because usually I only listen for a second before getting back to the business of whatever is in front of me. Ok, so resilience, and Nia and screaming “hah.”

Look. I will be honest. That stuff can still feel a little silly to me. But now I see it as just another opportunity to practice something that I need to survive in this world – cultivating a sense of humor about myself. Even if I feel completely weird and awkward, just shrugging my shoulders at it and letting it go is such good practice for the times I am really going to need it. You know, like when someone I like rejects me, or when I screw up at work. Instead of making matters worse by beating myself with that moment, spending a lot of time with it, identifying with it, I’m practicing the art of letting it go and moving on.

So I laughed a lot today because I would catch myself going into a mini-tailspin in my head about how I didn't want to do something. It was funny, I mean funny that I was making a commotion over a little arm swinging and shouting? So I would just laugh at myself and keep swinging my arms and shouting, or not, but either way I wasn't going to expend a lot of energy talking to myself about it.

Neurologically speaking, doing something that makes you feel silly in a safe place where people AREN’T judging you and all you have to do is wrestle with your own judgment is a great way to practice the pretty ambiguous, new agey sounding concept of “letting go.” I mean, the stakes are pretty low AND you are getting in good shape! Practicing any skill, means we’ll be better prepared to focus on what needs to get done when the next little (or big) bump in the road inevitably comes.

I love that you guys are so supportive and open to trying new things. That is what makes this program so darned fun for me. So please hear that I am not trying to say that you HAVE to necessarily embrace shouting at walls as you maniacally chop your hands in the air. And if you do embrace that, that’s cool too! What I am saying is that everything – even a health immersion program – gives us opportunities to practice skills we need to make it in life.

Even if some of the modalities in camp are not particularly and may never be for you, I encourage you to challenge yourself to come and to take home the one thing that can be helpful to you in your life. It might not even be physical, but many of the challenges we face in this modern world are not.

Let everything happen to you.

LET EVERYTHING HAPPEN by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.


(from Rilke's Book of Hours: translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)

When I am really paying attention I see my thoughts, feelings and circumstances change around me like weather. I cannot will them to come or go, though not for lack of trying.

I was recently struck by the death of Jesse Helms. Even a powerful man, a famous man, a man who devoted an entire life to preserving some vestige of a past he felt was real and a future he feared, even he had to die. With him died that effort. And time will slowly erode and erase the traces of everything he worked so hard to build, to keep and to preserve.

You can't take it with you.

Doesn't everything on earth that arises also come to pass? Then, while I am here, shouldn't I embrace every change as evidence of my current good fortune - that I am alive to experience change?

I think so, anyway.

My aspiration:

Putting aside my plans, and my fears for the future, attempt to find value in every experience as it happens and then allow it to pass. To let everything happen to me.

Dukkha and the truth of "suffering"

Dukkha (Pāli दुक्ख; Sanskrit दुःख duḥkha; according to grammatical tradition derived from dus-kha "uneasy", but according to Monier-Williams more likely a Prakritized form of dus-stha "unsteady, disquieted") is a central concept in Buddhism, the word roughly corresponding to a number of terms in English including suffering, pain, sorrow, affliction, anxiety, dissatisfaction, discomfort, anguish, stress, misery, and frustration.

I've run into a lot of folks who mention the "pessimistic" view of the Buddha that "life is suffering." What a gloomy view, they reason, and what a strangely negative place to conceive of a spiritual path from which we are meant to understand the "root of happiness." The issue here, for me at least, stems mostly from translation and semantics.

Suffering to a westerner is a big time pejorative. It's the stuff of rain-soaked Scandinavian or Slavic literature. The word "suffering" conjures an existential angst antithetical to the maniacally idealistic mythos of America's early settlers (reference Sarah Vowell's great segment "Turkeys in Pilgrim Clothing" on This American Life).

I have read that a more literal and appropriate translation for "duhkkha" is "unsteady, disquieted." I liken it to the constant hum of a refrigerator. It's like white noise - always there, but something that comes and goes from my awareness.

Certainly there are forms of suffering that are quite stark in their manifestation. Hunger, pain, illness, betrayal, these are things that we understand as "suffering" and clearly they exist in the world.

Against that backdrop many of us can look at our lot in life and confidently say, "I am lucky. I have plenty of reasons to be happy. I have a wonderful loving family. I have good health. I have material security and comfort. Life is good. Life isn't suffering."

Yet if we define the absence of suffering by causes and conditions that create a materially, emotionally, or socially secure circumstance then what we are saying is that happiness is an entirely conditional situation. And, in my mind at least, I am not sure how that is any less pessimistic a view.

So suffering appears to manifest in many ways. Some are more stark. Others appear in a more subtle form, i.e. that quiet uneasiness or even just a baseline static that comes and goes unbidden.

Still another way to look at it is that even a life filled with favorable circumstances is still entirely subject to the whims of nature, society, politics, birth, death, joy and pain. All phenomena - both positive and negative - will come and go. To let go of things I love and to allow things that hurt to affect me is difficult for me and probably for most people. Yet even to harbor a preferential attitude toward events in life that are inevitable is a form of suffering - because it is an inherent rejection of reality.

A life without suffering is one where life is dealt with exactly as it is. The absence of "badness" does not come from a parallel existence completely devoid of flaws. Nor is it a place where we are resigned to "accept" brutality, grotesqueness or harmful behavior. Acceptance, as it applies in this context, is not resignation, but a clear seeing and experience of the richness of life as it unfolds.

Dukkha then are all of the moments when we get snagged a little or a lot. Liberating ourselves from that self-absorption can be as easy as remembering to simply come back to this moment over and over again - just as we practice coming back to the breath in yoga practice or meditation.

My aspiration:

Recognizing that dukkha is not a state I can easily escape, allow myself to feel grateful to the teachers and friends who have dedicated their lives to help me live a life where I can encounter reality as it unfolds.

Ahimsa

Ahimsa (Devanagari: अहिंसा; IAST ahiṃsā) is a Sanskrit term meaning non-violence (literally: the avoidance of violence - himsa). Ahimsa is a rule of conduct that bars the killing or injuring of living beings. It is closely connected with the notion that all kinds of violence entail negative karmic consequences.

As a westerner I felt pretty confused about karma. Until I realized that the Western concept of heritability and "new understandings" of the complex interaction of nature + nurture attempts to describe the very same thing. We can no more easily escape karma than we can shed our deeply, behaviorally and neurologically ingrained patterns of habit.

These are thought patterns, actions, words, ways of being - big and small - that we practice and strengthen habitually.

Many of our habits and compulsions are passed down genetically and are strengthened and reinforced behaviorally by our parents, their parents, and their communities and families of origin. We mingle with others who share these traits, habits and compulsions.

Unexamined, we pass these traits through generations and live out the consequences. No analysis, dissection, or etymological investigation can lead us to a definitive cause, which we might hope to blame for our misfortunes or to eliminate from our constitution as one would a tumor.

This is the closest I come to understanding karma. Apologies in advance for no fewer than three metaphors in as many paragraphs (my high school English teacher would have tossed this paper by now) but karma is a tangled root from a tree that was planted long before we were born into this life.

So, in my life anyway, I understand karma's strong influence, but hopefully my yoga practice is just that - something I practice with the aspiration to create different karmic pathways and habits. Karma isn't just the selfish, indifferent, hurtful or covetous stuff, but is also the long and lasting ripples of compassion and other beneficial ways of being.

I just read this article in the New York Times.

I only rode horses for a while when I was a girl, but a few of my family members have horses. I'm so impressed with their strength and beauty. They work and play with their owners; however, their size is a constant reminder that, in a moment of panic, things could get ugly - so it is a relationship that requires a lot of trust.



It breaks my heart to read about discarded thoroughbreds. Essentially these are children, teenagers, that have been elite athletes. Once injured, these two to seven year old horses are no longer useful or profitable for their owners. They will be sold in auctions. Their next stop will be a slaughterhouse where they will become pet food or horse meat.

Whether I consider the trajectory of their stories appalling or not is not really what is at issue for me here. It's something deeper with regard to the concept of Ahimsa.

Its not like we don't do this to humans, too. My friend, Ray Hawes, who played professional football used to tell me similar stories about athletes. They play for a little while and most walk off the field broken, injured, and disabled for life with little more than a high school education and the memories of all those voices whispering sweet nothings about fame, getting out of bad neighborhoods, making good for their families, etc.

I see things changing for some of the young athletes, but back in the day pros weren't paid all that much. Many didn't come from backgrounds where they knew how to invest the money they made so that it would be there when their injuries caught up with them. Of course we don't cart injured pro-footballers off to auctions, but there is an undeniable death of the soul that happens to a young person whose dreams collapse overnight.

Regardless of the way the symptoms manifest, at the root of the thoroughbreds and athletes' stories and at the core of so much of the suffering in the world is the way karma unfolds. At least in my own case, I am aware of habitual ways that I don't so much intentionally brutalize others as much as that I am so unaware of all of the ways that I overlook my and other's well-being and fundamental value almost continually.

There are so many moments in a day when I lose touch with the non-conceptual rush of how it feels to be alive. In losing touch with myself, I fail to recognize that 'aliveness' is an experience that all beings share. When I am detached from that vitality those are the moments when violence takes root.

When I practice yoga or meditation it is unnerving to see how often I lose touch with what is presently happening and my mind begins its phantasmagorial churn. During the course of a normal day how often, in those mindless moments, am I missing something or causing harm?

The point isn't to beat or berate myself, but to recognize this essential truth and to see that we all suffer from this same affliction.

My aspiration:
To apply mindfulness throughout the day by appreciating that each thought or feeling I have has been experienced by other living beings.