A few years back, I went into Manhattan to take a few Yoga classes. In one of the classes the teacher presented the Yoga Sutra 2-33, “Vitarka Badhane Pratipaksha Bhavana.”

In The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Swami Satchidananda translates this Sutra, “… when disturbed by negative thoughts, opposite (positive) ones should be thought of. This is Pratipaksha Bhavana.”  Continuing, he offers, “Patanjali gives us a very nice clue on how to control the mind and obstruct those thoughts we don’t want. The best way he says is to invite opposite thoughts. If the thought of hatred is in the mind, we can try to bring the thought of love. So, although the hatred comes to the surface, we can keep it from coming out or staying long by changing the environment.”

During that class it started to snow. Big, fluffy light snow, falling steadily. I didn’t think much of it, other than how beautiful and soft it made everything. I continued thinking it was beautiful while I waited for the Jitney. The snow was really accumulating though, and was beginning to wreak havoc with Manhattan traffic. The bus was an hour late and–by the time I got on–totally full. I was tempted to curse the snow, but instead, I practiced the Sutra and kept thinking it was beautiful and fun.

That beautiful snow turned the 2 hour bus ride into a 6 hour ordeal. (No exaggeration.) I was seated across the aisle from a woman who started talking to her seatmate the moment she sat down and continued talking for 6 hours. (Again, no exaggeration.)

She was obviously nervous and it seemed to me that perhaps she was trying to take her mind off the driving conditions. I was amazed that– that very morning– I was taught something that would be perfect to practice. And practice, and practice, and practice. And practice.

At one point, I realized I had named her “Incessantly Talking Woman,” and I  admit that I was having all kinds of negative thoughts about her. “Please shut up” was one of the kinder ones. “Close your word hole,” was not part of the lexicon at the time, but had it been, well,…, you get the picture.  Instead, I kept trying to think positive thoughts about her.

I can’t say it was easy, but something about the technique was definitely beginning to take hold. When I found myself squirming in my seat at the sound of her voice, I ‘d try to sympathize with how nervous she must have been, and how talking might be her way of dealing with the unpleasant situation.

I practiced shifting my perspective. And practiced, and practiced, and practiced. And practiced… like so much of Yoga, it may not come naturally, but we need only to practice.

The concept of practicing can apply to the physical as well as the emotional or spiritual. For instance, we practice warrior poses to become physically stronger. But we are also practicing being strong enough to take a stance. From that strength comes the ability to recognize other points of view. When we are strong and secure, we are able to shift our perspective, and at least entertain another viewpoint.

A great way to shift your perspective physically is to practice inversions: stand on your hands, or your head, balance on your shoulders. Even adho mukha svanasana, (Downward facing dog) can give you a different view of the world.

Inversions offer many physical benefits as well as teaching us to look at things in a different way. They help with digestion and circulation, including strengthening of the lungs and the heart. They stimulate the pituitary, pineal and thyroid glands, all of which are important in maintaining health and vitality.

Remember that going upside down might not come naturally. So practice, practice and practice. And practice. In our goal-oriented society, even the idea of practicing can be/require a shift in perspective. Define your intention, but at the same time let go of the outcome and just practice.

I told the story of my bus ride to one of my classes and commented on how amazed I was that my Yoga teacher had given me such a useful idea to practice. After class, one of my students pointed out to me that the real teacher that day had been “Incessantly Talking Woman.” Indeed, she had been. And then, again, so was this student.  Yet another perspective, another beautiful day of practice.

Bob Marley’s dying words to Ziggy were “money can’t buy you life”

Holidays! Uggghhh. How do we navigate this season of so many mixed emotions? What is the key to our sanity when all is so chaotic? How can we keep our perspective in check in the midst of the hurricane?

The holidays bring up different issues for everyone. But I don’t think anyone goes unscathed. This year is particularly stressful. We are alive during a very special time. There is so much hope and so much anxiety. And then we add the intensity of the holidays to it. How do we stay steady, joyful, and content while we spring from one end of the spectrum to the other?

There is so much joy during this season. The air smells amazing. The decorations carry a sense of nostalgia and comfort. There can be a great sense of connection, but also one can feel very isolated. Loved ones that have passed are particularly missed during the holidays. The reminder of the financial situation hits us full on. The body and mind are full of memories, some sweet, and some not so sweet. How can yoga help keep us balanced when it all seems to be spinning out of control?

I returned from India several years ago just in time for the holidays. I had been working in Calcutta at Mother Theresa’s homes for several months and on the way to work every morning, I would pass this woman sitting on her stoop, picking lice out of her daughter’s hair. They were both so content, and the joy on their faces made me smile every day. I returned home to my apartment in NYC, in the heart of SOHO, in the midst of the holidays. As I was getting out of the cab, there was a woman laden with expensive shopping bags screaming at her limo driver because he had driven around the block. Who was better off? The woman on her stoop, or the woman with the shopping bags? I ask myself that often. I crawled into my apartment and started to listen to my breath and imagined that I was the woman happily picking lice out of her daughter’s hair. I didn’t have a formal pranayama practice at that time, but now realize that is exactly what I was doing and where I was finding solace. I would imagine the breath and the rhythm of this woman with an air of peace and ease.

We have tools to bring about that contentment that is there under the surface of the stress and chaos. Please take the time to take them out of your toolbox. The best tool for overcoming personal stress is to help someone else, to serve. There are so many wonderful ways to serve, whether it is picking lice out of someone’s hair, serving at a soup kitchen, or visiting a geriatric center. Whatever it is, it will bring you closer to joy. The Dalai Lama was recently asked a question by a student of ours: what to do when the mind won’t stop chattering during meditation. He playfully says: “yes, me too. That happens to me all the time. What I do is finish the thought and then think about helping someone else and you will drop right into meditation.”

We all need to stop and be aware of the breath and realize that that can be all we need to find contentment and happiness in the moment and we can take it with us wherever we find ourselves over the holidays. Swami Satchidananda says that if you keep as healthy of a body as possible and a clear mind, that right action will follow. Stop, watch your breath, find a sweet meditative rhythm, whether it is stringing popcorn, pulling lice out of a friend’s hair, or walking down the street.

The second niyama is called santosa (contentment).

“From contentment the highest happiness is attained. When hankering is removed, the citta becomes content. This is called sattvic happiness. The sattvic happiness does not depend on external objects which are vulnerable and fleeting, this happiness is inherent in the mind when it is tranquil and contented.” (translation of the sutras by Edwin Bryant)

Let’s be happy. Swami Satchidananda also says that happiness is a choice. Let it all stem from meditation and kindness.

Remembering the wise words of Annie Lenox:

Money can’t buy it…baby
Sex can’t buy it…baby
Drugs can’t buy it…baby
You can’t buy it…baby
I believe that love alone might do these things for you.

Have fun. Breathe. Serve. Keep up your yoga practice. Be healthy and clear. Wishing you joy, ease, connection, and contentment during the holidays and always.

Namaste, (the content part of me bows to the content part of you)

Colleen

Pratisthayam Tat Samnidhau Vaira Tyagah’ –Yoga Sutra II.35 Ahimsa
(In presence of one firmly established in non-violence, all hostilities cease)

‘Yoga is not for him who overeats and also not for him who does not eat’ – Bhagavad-Gita V1.16

The argument for nonviolent eating often gets simplified into 2 categories: “vegetarian” and “meat eater”. But, as I have learned through 18 years of being a vegetarian and now what I might call a mindful meat eater, the task of putting a meal on a plate is multi-faceted and quite complicated.

As yogis, we talk a lot about connections. And so it follows, that we should realize our connections to the food we eat. That means asking questions: What did it take for this food to get here? Where was it grown, pastured, or produced and how far did it travel? How much petroleum did its transport require? Is it “real” food—that is, how many recognizable ingredients are actually in what I am eating? Was it made in a factory or by someone’s caring hands? How much harm did my meal inflict on the environment and people in contact with it via pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers, changes to the landscape and the money paid for that food? Finally, a more nutritional concern is whether the given meal is what I should be eating now—is it what my body needs?

I do not think that there is a set of correct answers that applies to everyone. Some people may need certain foods for health reasons. For others, keeping livestock may be an important part of their economy. And for others, limited access, either geographical or economical, to certain foods may determine what is eaten.

For me, the origin of my food—where it comes from and how it was prepared—has become the most important consideration. For example, because I live on land surrounded by water, it makes sense to me to eat seafood. Which seafood is best, is another complex topic. One thing for conscientious seafood eaters to keep in mind, is that smaller more plentiful fish are better choices for environmental impact and health. They eat lower on the food chain and have accumulated fewer toxins. One should also consider how the seafood was caught.

I have also added small amounts of meat to my diet. Some comes from a farmer I know. He raises his animals in a compassionate manner without the use of unnecessary hormones and antibiotics and his animals are always outdoors (they do have shelter for inclement weather) in fresh air where they can lead as natural a life as a domesticated animal can. Also, I organically grow most of the produce that I eat.

On the East End of Long Island, we are fortunate to have produce grown by local farmers and cheese made by local dairies. Buying from them whenever possible decreases the amount of petroleum used in transporting food and also keeps money in the local economy.

The food writer Michael Pollan advises 3 simple instructions for eating: Eat food, not too much, and mostly plants. He also says eat only what your great grandmother would recognize. I like to expand that across ethnicities, since we are now privileged to have access to many varieties of food. Pollan also suggests that farm animals raised on pasture-instead of factory farms-form a necessary part of a healthy farm, since their manure nourishes the next planting of crops.

We should keep in mind that the lower we eat on the food chain-the more “vegetarian” that we eat-and the less distance that our food has to travel, the more we are eating in a peaceful manner.

The setting in which we eat is also important. The Dali Lama is known to eat meat for health reasons and out of respect. When served a meal that requires time and effort, it might be disrespectful or even considered ahimsa to reject what is given when others around the world do not have enough to eat.

Respect, thoughtfulness, and compassion should be part of planning what to eat and mealtimes. As we all know, this is not always the case. Sometimes, we eat too much, too fast, and not the right food. There are many asanas to aid in cleansing the body of the bad decisions we sometimes make about our food.

Asana for cleansing and purifying

According to B.K.S. Iyengar’s Light on Yoga, twisting (especially with a long torso), laying over a belly bolster, leg pumping (bending and straightening the legs), and mayurasana (peacock pose) are all effective in improving digestion, curing ailments of the stomach and spleen, and preventing and cleansing build up of toxins due to faulty eating.

In addition, if one has abused food, the environment or even people to eat, take steps to remedy the situation. Eat more simply: food from close to home, lower on the food chain and less of it. Help out at a community garden. Support a local farmers’ market or food bank. Share a thoughtful meal with friends and family, and teach by example.

Next time you sit down to eat, ask, how am I connected to the food in front of me. Is there yoga on my plate?

Lose yourself,
Lose yourself.
Escape from the black cloud that surrounds you.
Then you will see your own light as radiant as the full moon.
Now enter that silence.
This is the surest way to lose yourself….
What is your life about, anyway?
Nothing but a struggle to be someone,
Nothing but a running from your own silence.”

– Rumi ‘In the Arms of the Beloved’ (Translation by Jonathon Star)

In preparation for writing this month’s focus, I made a list. I wrote down all of my identities, the different roles that I play and identifying characteristics. It was a really long list. A list filled with general personal facts, specific personality traits, accomplishments, possessions, relationships, joys, sorrows, fears and other tidbits that make up “my story.” Reading through that list was an emotional roller coaster taking me from giggles to tears and then back to laughter in mere minutes. After setting the list aside, I sat quietly to pause and feel. What feelings or thoughts would follow such a concentrated dissection of the ego? I am not exactly sure what I felt…my brain simply felt tired but my gut told me that it was something resembling loneliness.

As a whole, we exist in a culture that places great value on the individual, we strive to stand out and declare ourselves unique. We put forth tremendous effort to carve out a specific space for ourselves in this world, a space that tells the universe, “I exist! I matter! I have a reason for being here!” We hold onto our identities for dear life, clutching them to our bosom and hammering them into the armor that guards our hearts. As Pema Chodrun, Colleen, Rodney and many other wonderful teachers tell us; this armor is born out of fear. Fear that perpetuates the myth of duality thus widening the divide between you and me. Rather than seeing the unlimited potential for connection that lies beneath the ego, we perceive a lacking. So we continue to wrap our identities around ourselves to ward off the possibility that we might not be anyone.

Unfortunately, in our increasingly fast-paced and insulated lives, an identity-centric existence is largely devoid of true connection. It is not just the outward connection that we lose but also the connection to the many layers of ourselves. These layers or sheaths are called kosas and the human body is comprised of five; the physical body (annamaya kosa), the energetic body (pranamaya kosa), the mental body (manomaya kosa), the intellectual body (vijnanamaya kosa), and finally the bliss body (anandamaya kosa). As we grow curious about the kosas we discover their profound interconnectedness.

In Light on Life, BKS Iyengar writes that when all five kosas are integrated and in harmony with one another we reflect the clear light of the soul outward onto the world. We investigate the movement between the gross, the subtle and the sublime and we are reminded that while the aim of yoga is to discover our immortal Self, the practice of yoga teaches us to live fully. In order to live fully, we must wake up to the truth of connection, the truth of an unguarded heart. We must slowly loosen our iron grip on our stories and dive into the body, the breath, the mind and the heart. Embedded deep within, we listen for, what Rumi calls, an “inner wakefulness” that will eventually “startle us back to the truth of who we are” and that truth is infinitely greater than any list, no matter how long.

With sustained effort and sincerity, Discipline and self-control, The wise become like islands, Which no flood can overwhelm.”

—From the Dhammapada (sayings of the Buddha)

As Labor Day comes and goes, and I (finally) stop procrastinating and sit down to write the September focus, a lot comes to mind. These past few weeks have been extremely difficult ones. We have experienced tragedy very close to home in this Yoga community, and it becomes for so many of us a kind of “wake-up” call. We have these practices of Yoga; these practices of asana, pranayama, meditation; these practices of cultivating mindfulness, cultivating attention. It seems that many of us take these practices for granted. Or perhaps not so much that we take them for granted, but that we don’t necessarily acknowledge how potentially useful they can be in challenging times. How vital these practices become when we are going through very difficult times in our lives. This word ‘asana.’ A seat- a connection to or relationship to earth- to Mother Earth. What does that mean?? From the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, we have the sutra “Stirah Sukham Asanam.” (Our seat should be steady and easy or joyful). What does this mean for us not just in a Yoga class, not just in a “pose” but in life??? Equanimity. What a beautiful word. Is equanimity possible? Is equanimity desirable?? For some, equanimity is confused as complacence, as a passionless existence in which one has no preferences, no likes or dislikes. A state of being in which one never gets upset, never gets affected simply because one does not care enough, or is able to shut down emotionally so as not to feel. On the contrary, one who is established in equanimity feels and feels deeply; cares and cares deeply, but has the wisdom to go beyond that which makes up this “saha” world …this fleeting world; the world of appearances, of names and forms. When something tragic happens in your life or in the life of someone close to you, how do you react?? Do you use the practices you have learned; the tools you have been taught to cope with what has happened? Are you able to maintain your seat? Are you able to maintain your hard-earned equanimity even in very turbulent times?

In my own experience, the Yoga practice has proven time and again to be a gift which sustains and nurtures me on many levels. I feel this most acutely during times in my life which are momentous in some way. The sudden death of my father nine years ago was such a time. Two pregnancies, one easy, one not so easy are two more examples. I have a vivid memory of coming home from the hospital with my first child after a difficult pregnancy and an even more difficult labor in which I was sore, swollen, and an emotional mess, and I unrolled my Yoga mat and did my first non-pregnant downward facing dog in 10 months (I was 42 weeks at the time of birth!!!) and just burst into tears. Tears of gratitude. The knowledge that this practice was still with me and although I had made this huge irevocable leap from being a woman who was not a mother to being a woman who was a mother, and the HUGE load that that felt like at the time, but that the practice was still with me… that that had not changed, was tremendously helpful.

So we practice. We practice when things are going well. We practice when times are difficult. We practice when we are healthy, as well as when we are sick. We practice with an injury, and come to learn so much more about that part of the body that is injured. And the more we allow ourselves to surrender to this path of Yoga, the more we reap the rewards. The more we acknowledge the healing capabilities of this practice, the more we are healed; physically, emotionally, spiritually. And yet, without attachment to any outcome, we practice. I think perhaps one of the mistakes we make is that when we need it the most, we neglect to practice. When we are ill, when we are grieving, the practice somehow gets left behind. Again, this idea that we are not acknowledging all that it can do for us. We call these practices tools. But if we were a builder and we showed up at a job site without a hammer and nails, what good would we be? We call ourselves yogis, but if we don’t use the tools we have learned over our years of practice, what use is the practice?? I saw firsthand over these past few weeks how one of my dearest friends utilized the tools of Yoga to help her in her process of grieving and overcoming the tragedy she was involved in. Being herself an outstanding Yoga teacher, it was the first thing she turned to and is her daily sanctuary and refuge.

The Sanskrit word for “practice” is ABHYASA. B.K.S. Iyengar, in his book Light on Life, says that the energies created by practice (abhyasa) need to be matched and balanced by the prudence of detachment (vairagya). He says that “practice creates a centrifugal force, a spinning and expanding energy. Trouble comes when this compelling energy spins out of control. Military training works in the same way, which is why soldiers on leave and sailors on shore so often get in to trouble. Military discipline and honor are their safeguards. Detachment is the disciplinary safeguard of the yoga practitioner. It is a centripetal force that reinvests, with unswerving purpose, the strengths and abilities we have gained toward the search for the core of being. This voluntary self-discipline is the role of pratyahara.” So we continually draw ourselves deeper and deeper inside, towards the source of our being. We move from the outer practices to the inner practices, from the body to the breath to the mind, to the intellect, to the soul. We utilize wisely different practices at different times. We employ different methods according to what is appropriate in the moment. This appropriate or “right” action is yet another “boon” of practice. To know what to do when. To know how to act and what action to take. Our observation, moment-to-moment, teaches us this “right” action. Our deep connection to source insures that our intention is pure- selfless rather than selfish. Very simply stated, practice practice practice. Astanga Yoga Master Sri K. Patabhi Jois says, “Practice and all is coming.” May we strive to do the best we can with what we have available to us in the moment. May we maintain our seat, as we act accordingly. May we learn from tragedy. May our suffering nurture the seeds of great compassion.

OM SHANTIH SHANTIH SHANTIH
OM PEACE PEACE PEACE

oga Sutra II.46: Sthira Sukham Asanam = asana is a steady comfortable posture

Hold your posture longer especially headstand (salamba sirsasana) and shoulderstand (salamba sarvangasana) to practice this sutra.

The Yoga Sutras define asana as the posture that brings comfort and steadiness. Sounds simple enough, right?

The only problem is the challenges of everyday life, both physical and emotional, make it difficult to maintain this comfort and steadiness. In other words, what we buy, what we eat, and what chemicals we use in our houses and yards and on our cars and boats negatively affect our bodies and the world around us. Additionally, the physical “wear and tear” that we sustain prevents us from maintaining a steady and comfortable posture. When we are unable to experience comfort in our bodies, we are not able to live and exist in a responsible, peaceful and compassionate manner or to our fullest potential.

One solution offered by the Yoga Sutras is asana. Asana aides in ridding our bodies of impurities and congestions. We twist, bend forward and backward, move side to side, and turn upside down to make supple and cleanse our bodies.

And although this is not easy to accept, the postures that are more challenging can actually help us the most. They decongest and strengthen the body, and they train us to find contentment in difficult situations. If you struggle finding in certain poses, use props and proper alignment and then settle into the posture for as long as the teacher has asked as a way to practice finding peace in a place that you may not find pleasant. On the other hand, do not get attached to favorite postures. In postures that seem pleasant, even wonderful, realize that change is inevitable and practice contentment when asked to transition from these.

Additionally, strive to do new postures. Do not become dull or stagnant by always doing the same poses or the same thing in poses. Watch out for habit-forming activity and welcome change and newness. We cannot accept change when we operate from old habits.

Shoulderstand and headstand are perfect places to practice staying and finding contentment. Especially in shoulderstand, we go up and the variations start. We begin moving our legs, our thoughts wander, and we may wonder when the pose will end. Variations are fine, but why can’t we just stay with our legs up (unless asked to do a variation)? Practice stillness. In headstand, maybe our shoulders tire or hands get sore from gripping. How can we stay in headstand for longer than we might like to and figure out a way to be okay with it?

Consider another challenging situation—the process of birth. As a labor and delivery nurse, I have found that, whether it’s a vaginal birth or cesarean section, women who do best are those who practice calm breathing, use some method of meditation, and are willing to accept the moment at hand. They find asana when it is difficult. It is not about controlling the situation or having an agenda of how things will go. That is attachment and things will fall apart. Breathe in and accept, breathe out and settle. Find asana.

And, as the process of birth demonstrates, physical contortion isn’t the only path. Breathing, meditation, and chanting can also help us find that comfort.

None of this is easy, but we learn and practice. Once we have practiced sincerely on the mat, difficult situations will be more tolerable off the mat. We will think, act and react in a more peaceful and compassionate manner.

The goal is not a manic state of HAPPY!, (as Sanskrit scholar Manorama has said) but a state of contentment. Nor is the goal to rid ourselves of all emotion and become zombies. We can be passionate but attachment to our passions and lack of realization that they are permanent or responsible for our happiness will create suffering, therefore moving us away from asana.

Pema Chodron writes, “Everyday, at the moment when things get edgy, we can just ask ourselves, “Am I going to practice peace, or am I going to war?” Find stiram sukham asanam again and again.

“The least movement is of importance to all nature. The entire ocean is affected by a pebble”
– Blaise Pascal

As the sun burns brighter in the sky, as it warms our days more thoroughly, we’re called to move – to walk, to garden, to ride bikes, to get out in the water – to be outside and mobile. I read that Martha Graham used to quote her father, a psychologist, as saying, “movement never lies.” This suggests that there is purity and authenticity in movement, an opportunity to simply be, without the layers of fabrication or pretense the mind can cook up. We move most in an asana practice when we practice Surya Namaskar, the Sun Salutation. As the cosmos calls us to movement, it’s a great time to consider Surya Namaskar, that centerpiece of the asana practice. Dona Holleman calls Surya Namaskar a Mala, the circle of beads strung together on one string, that is used in meditation. She teaches that Surya Namaskar is a classical way to connect the various asanas into one continuous, flowing event.

If we accept that movement doesn’t lie, then moving in transition from one asana to the next, maintaining the continuous flow that Dona Holleman talks about, is perhaps where we can be most authentic, most pure. One of the keys to allowing this continuous flow is a patient surrender to a steady breath. So whether we practice a rigorous Ashtanga Surya Namaskar B, moving quickly in and out of Virabhadrasana I with the breath, or a slow, gentle dance-like Surya Namaskar in the Integral Yoga style, using an easy breath throughout the sequence, the breath is an essential element.

Dropping into the breath in transition, we can get away from the mental limitations that creep in when we’re actually in an asana. For instance, in urdhva mukha svanasana, upward facing dog, I can feel dissatisfied that the throat is tight or that the low back is jammed up. Or in adho mukha svanasana, downward facing dog, I can get caught up in striving for the goal of getting the heels closer to the mat, or the shoulder blades onto the back. But in the transition between these two poses, those mental constructs, like judgment and striving, that take me away from pure movement can sometimes disappear. For a brief moment, if I distance myself from concern for past or future and the traps the mind falls prey to there, I feel the body simply flowing through space and time. At the same time, the transition serves its own important role, allowing us to perform the asanas without interruption, continuing the flow of energy from one pose to the next.

Of course transition can be uncomfortable. At first it can feel unsettling to move through space and time without anchoring the thoughts on the poses that come before and after the transitional movement. Human nature yearns for the security of being someplace, of getting our bearings. But I find that giving myself completely to the transitions transforms my practice. It allows the body and mind to become absorbed in the flow of movement. I realize that, like all of nature, I can move in complete harmony with the essential energy of the universe, the divine vibration. That realization transforms the asanas that follow, so that they too become more dynamic. Soon the entire practice flows with continuous, harmonious movement.

The lessons we take from cultivating mindful transitions in Surya Namaskar blossom when we take them off the mat. In life, transitions are most unsettling when we don’t know what the future is going to feel like, or look like. It feels as though it cuts against the grain to give up our striving, and let life come to us. It can also be a great challenge to give ourselves over to transition when we long to hold onto the events and people that inhabit our past. Transition feels insecure, like now as we leave the winter behind and move toward our summer schedules. But it is that very insecurity that allows us to grow. If we surrender to not knowing, we experience the benefits of transition, just like when we allow the energy to flow through the transitions in Surya Namaskar. Transitions are like the vast darkness between the stars. Maybe not as flashy as the main events of our lives but, like the transitions in Surya Namaskar, filled with the divine vibration that gives meaning to our lives.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration,
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze,
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze…”
– DH Lawrence from The Enkindled Spring

It is said that April showers bring May flowers, but it seems to me that they have already arrived. Lilacs, daffodils, cherry blossoms. Spring is in full bloom, even in the city. Nature is awakening and so too are we. People are moving outside, their bodies entwined in a dance of eagerness and whimsy, intoxicated by the warmer weather and the abundance that spring reveals.

I find myself mesmerized by the snapshots that I see: friends lunching together on the benches in Washington Square Park, bodies strewn in wild shapes all over Sheep’s Meadow in celebration of the fences finally opening, the vibrant shades of Green Market offerings in Union Square, lovers entangled everywhere, children clamoring for more time on the jungle gym, and the trees proudly showcasing their latest vivid designs.

With all this abundance, it is easy to move out too far, to become caught up in the busy-ness of activities. How do we maintain presence when external stimulations abound? How do we move out and in simultaneously?

Spring is a time of transformation and growth, but it is also a period of cleansing and regeneration; the perfect time to look clearly at what excesses we might be holding onto and to learn to let go and shed a little, surrendering to what is in each moment. Eckhart Tolle writes, “the entire civilization is losing itself in doing that is not rooted in Being”. Spring invites us to watch this dance in ourselves. To move out and play, while maintaining steadiness and grounding so that we don’t lose ourselves in a state of mindless intoxication.

How do we find this balance? Maybe it is from the birds that we might draw some understanding. I find their flight spectacular to watch, especially when I am at the beach. There is this beautiful balance between the energy of their ascent and the enthusiasm in their wingspans, coupled by the way that they appear suspended in midair, as if surrendering to the winds, but not defined by them or fighting against them.

May we all celebrate this month by exploring this delicate balance, moving outside more and honoring all the abundance while challenging ourselves to stay present, in a state of perpetual being.

“He who binds the breath, binds the mind” – Svatmarama, Hatha Yoga Pradipika

We spend years in pranayama trying to free up the breath. It is slippery business. So many times we end up with a manipulated breath from concepts given to us by teachers, books, videos, and countless other influences. This manipulated breath often just covers up our habitual breath, which is a deeply ingrained breath pattern that has been imprinted off our ancestors. What is the breath inside the breath inside the breath? How in our yogic studies are we going to carefully dig out this priceless treasure?

We start this archeological dig by freeing up the habitual tension in the gross body in our asana practice. The closer we can hover around our skeletal center the more the muscular body can stay fluid.

Simultaneously, in asana, we release tension in our organs through squeezing and releasing and through mindful relaxation in restorative poses. In meditation, we come to mental and emotional states of emptiness and states of non-identification.

These physical, mental and emotional states of fluidity set up the proper foundation for a natural breath. As we slowly and carefully make our way through this complex labyrinth of tension, identification, desire, aversion and illusion, we can get glimpses of a free breath. This free breath is a breath that permeates easily throughout our entire being. It is a breath that sets the rhythm for our entire dance of life. It is a breath that intrinsically ties us to our environment. Free your breath and you will free your mind.