Be strong then, and enter into your own body;
there you have a solid place for your feet.
Think about it carefully!
Don’t go off somewhere else!
Kabir says this: just throw away all thoughts of
imaginary things,
and stand firm in that which you are.
-Kabir

Somewhere between San Francisco and Chicago I lean over my sleeping neighbor, crane my neck and peer out of the window hoping to catch a glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. I am very much an East Coast girl who gravitates toward sun and sand so the awesome rise of the Rockies never ceases to amaze me. Even from this awkward bird’s eye view, the majesty of the mountains is apparent. The glory of this scene drops me back into my seat with a satisfied thud. I sigh and turn back to my notebook with my pen poised above the page. It is kind of silly that I am contemplating “connection to the earth” while suspended thousands of feet above its surface, but here it goes…

Light on Yoga opens with Tadasana (mountain pose). In Tadasana, Iyengar encourages us to “stand firm and erect as a mountain” coupled with the caution that the profundity of Tadasana is probably not found in our habitual stance. Therefore, we must begin anew and assemble Tadasana from the ground up. Carefully aligning the body so that the pull of gravity becomes our ally, creating lightness in the body and clarity in the mind. From my aerial view, the mountains that I see provide infinite inspiration. I can see that the bright white reach of the mountain spires toward the heavens is born out deep earthly connection. The base of the mountains acting as an enormous footprint integrated into the earth’s surface.

When we practice standing poses with focused and heartfelt effort, our feet, ankles and legs become strong, the spine is set free and the innate intelligence of the body begins to stir. The dynamism of standing poses bring us into direct contact with the complex physicality of the body as it relates to the earth as well as the space around and above us. At the base of our standing posture is an actual footprint, setting the foundation for the pose. After consistent practice, the soles of our feet relax supple and full onto the floor, all ten of our toes spread wide as they land softly against our mats and we even learn to differentiate between inner heal, outer heal, back of the heal and front of the heal. It is an invigorating experience to interact so intimately with this animal body that we inhabit. Just as the feet provide a foundation for the standing poses, standing poses provide a wonderful foundation for our asana practice and beyond. Most importantly, standing poses connect us to the present moment. They provide the steadiness necessary to marvel at the wonder of each and every moment as it unfolds without lingering in the neither past nor projecting forward to the future.

A tree must root down below the earth’s surface in order to grow tall and strong, retreating deep into its source to fully extend upward. The direction of our yoga practice is similar. As we practice, we turn inward to observe and be present with the sensations in the physical body, thoughts that whir through the mind and finally the effects of the breath on both body and mind. Through dedicated practice, we steady our attention and follow it through surface thoughts and sensations to finally dive into our heart of hearts. The sages write that within the inner most chamber of our heart we discover infinite potential for love, compassion and joy. Kabir, the mystic poet of the 14th century describes this journey from the finite to infinite far more eloquently than I…

“Suffering is when we forget that we belong to each other.” —Mother Theresa

“One day when I was feeling like a motherless child, which I was, it come to me. That feeling of being part of everything, not separate at all. I know that if I cut a tree, my arm would bleed. And I laughed and I cried and I run all around the house, I knew just what it was. In fact, when it happen, you can’t miss it.” —Alice Walker

We have moments of clarity. We have moments where nothing is missing. We have moments where we are void of competition and fear. We have moments where we are not torn between us and them. They are the moments where we abide in our true state: ONE LOVE. The moment after the exhale and before the inhale often brings us to that place. Opening the hearts via backbending can bring us to that place. Extreme beauty can bring us there. Extreme sadness can also bring us there.

As we pry open our rusty, defensive, protective hearts in yoga class, are we really decreasing hatred and coming closer to that state that makes us want to run around the house crying, laughing and knowing without a doubt there is one love?

The heart radiates 9 feet in diameter. So whatever the state of your heart, be it cold, broken, armored, fearful or warm, open, vulnerable and compassionate, you are affecting those that come in contact with you. This is a scientific fact. Dr. Phillip Bart (a renowned cardiologist), says that a truly open heart can radiate into infinity.

We see this radiance in newborn babies. We see it in those that are ready to die. A lot of times we see it in those that have endured tragedy or major illness. Why wait for our death bed to wake up?

Iyengar says: “Overcoming backbends is overcoming fear.” Are we frozen in fear? What causes that fear? Is love the opposite of fear? Can backbends overcome our fears? Is our fear, just dwelling in the illusion of separateness? Without fear, would there be no competition, would there really be no us and them? Would there be peace?

One of my pressing fears today is that I am scared to death (not alive!) of losing my father. My diaphragm tightens, and literally shrinks as I fold to protect my aching heart. Is that a lack of trust? I am scared, alienated and confused. I choose to not feel so intensely most of the time so that I won’t be in a sobbing heap on the floor. What is it that I am afraid of? I ask myself on my more courageous days. I am afraid of my dad not being physically there when I call or make the journey to Indiana. My dad doesn’t say much. My mom does most of the talking, but I hear his breath and the excitement when he knows it is me calling and it saves my life. I am afraid of what my life will turn into without his approval. I am afraid of loosing the unconditional love that he provides. I am afraid that he may die without ever knowing how deeply I love, admire and respect him. So, do you know how I deal with it? The same way I deal with the rest of my fears, I stay too busy to make the call because I can’t bear the intensity and vulnerability of a heart that is open.

In those moments of clarity, be it after an exhale, after a backbend, or after a phone call, when we forget to protect ourselves, we realize that one love is beyond this physical being that we are walking around in. There is nothing that can break the connection from my soul to his. We are one heart, one love. Suffering comes when we believe ourselves to be separate.

So I ask myself and you to be courageous. Let’s make the phone call. Let’s slow down and feel the intense sadness as well as the intense beauty. Let’s get on the mats and pry open our hearts and watch that magical place after the exhale. Let’s be alive with our vulnerability and our open hearts. Let us spread the love into eternity. Let’s run around the house laughing and crying.

With Love,
Colleen Saidman Yee

“If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough”.—Albert Einstein

Turning Over a New Leaf: Recognizing that joy and sorrow are two sides of the same coin.

Winter is a time of old growth passing so that new growth can take form. Trees shed leaves and gardens have ripened most of their fruit. Corn stalks and potato vines that remain in the field decompose and slowly become soil so that their parts can give life to new crops the next year. In the face of the natural cycle of endings and beginnings, it is also a time of looking at the past and future, contemplating regrets and making resolutions.

This seasonal cycle pervades our lives and it is evidence that all sorts of opposites—pain and pleasure, death and life, and joy and sorrow—are two sides of the same coin. Each cannot exist without the other. Failing to recognize this often prevents us from leading a fulfilling life, and instead, life becomes an emotional roller coaster.

Of course, every day we’re exposed to the reality that life is always in a state of flux, and we can usually cope. But occasionally, the events of our lives are so momentous that they challenge us to remember that joy is part of sorrow and sorrow is part of joy.

In my own case, this was particularly true in the past year. My 32-year-old brother died unexpectedly on Oct 24th, 2006 and my first child was born almost one year later on Nov 13th, 2007. On the surface, these two events could not have been any different, and yet they both turned my life upside down and ultimately inspired me to be a better person. And, on some level, I closely and profoundly relate the two events.

My brother, Matthew, was a champion of living in the moment, fearing nothing, and embracing his life with open arms. We are still mourning the tragedy of his sudden passing, but, from the rubble, my family has slowly been able to draw inspiration from his life and use it in our own lives. “Matthew would have wanted us to celebrate and not mourn,” my sister said at one of the memorial services. Matthew also did not allow room in his life for regret or hesitation, and I’ve tried in the past year to follow his example. It is easy to imagine that Matthew lives on as part of everyone who knew him. I plan to teach my daughter, Clio, about her uncle and his outlook on life. As the end of one life segued into the birth of another, sorrow and joy migrated so close to each other.

These emotional dichotomies are not really that different from the physical shift of turning our bodies upside down when we practice inversions. Whether handstand, downward facing dog, standing forward bend, standing splits or legs up the wall, inversions change perspective, energize us as blood and energy shift in the body, aide in overcoming fear, and create receptivity in the body and mind.

This shift has a way of boosting our confidence and even preparing us for new possibilities and the unexpected. For example, a couple of years ago, I set a goal of improving my forearm stand. After steady practice, the pose became easier and, with my chin floating above the floor, I thought, “Wow, I did this. What else is possible? What can I try and what can I endure?” Undoubtedly, this feeling lingers. After spending sometime upside down, we are more receptive to events that may turn our worlds upside down.

Even if at times we might “get it” or have a moment of clarity, finding balance is still something we have to practice again and again. If I were to experience another death right now, it wouldn’t be any easier and somehow I would have to learn again that joy and sorrow will always be present, and we have a choice as to how we experience them. The point is not to become numb or zombie-like as we pass through life but to experience every moment with open arms. Even the not-so-pleasant or tragic periods have to be accepted. When we fight them, we suffer. For ourselves and the people around us, this is not productive or helpful.

During these periods, the tools that we practice such as asana, meditation, pranayama, chanting, and kindness and compassion towards ourselves and all others must be cultivated and used. This is easier said than done. When we spiral out of control, when we get lost, we need to come back to whatever practice may be helpful to move us towards a place of contentment. Try spending sometime upside down and then sitting, and wherever on the spectrum between joy and sorrow you may be hovering, accept that place. Welcome it, but don’t hold on to it. Inhale welcome, exhale release. Evenly, easefully.

Only one thing is for sure, wherever we may find ourselves between joy and sorrow, that place will change. Even what we thought was joyful or sorrowful will change. The question is: can we accept what is to come and let go of what has passed and realize that joy and sorrow are two sides of the same coin?

Inspired by and dedicated to Matthew Paul Horton and Clio Matthew Halweil.

If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough”—Albert Einstein

This quote reminds me of how Jessica’s son, Jack, once described Vrksasana (tree pose). He advised all eager practitioners to “bring one foot up and keep the other one on the ground.” His instruction was so clear and direct and, in many ways, made the experience of the pose more accessible. Could it be possible that with all of our years of practice and study and exploration, we have actually taken ourselves further from our natural yogic state – a state of deliciously vibrant, yet receptive, fullness? Have we searched, so fervently, for the right teacher, the appropriate book, the body-changing diet, the most appealing lifestyle that all we’ve actually done is further confused and distracted ourselves? Or is it just that excessive information and unnecessary clutter is so familiar that it inevitably finds its way into the sacred space of our yoga practice?

Now, it would appear that the longer you have been practicing, the more study and the more inquisition, the more complicated the practice might become. Somewhere along this journey, the description of tree pose became a whirlwind of body parts, each with its own direction and instruction, each working in opposition to, but also in combination with every other. And yet, at its very core, Vrksasana is still, “one foot up and one foot down.” So, how can we delve deeper, how can we explore the subtlety, without loosing the gift of the simplicity of the practices of yoga, each asana, each breath, each sound vibration.

Perhaps, all we need to do is lighten up on the details. Reduce the instruction to the physical body to the bare minimum – give ourselves an opportunity to move beyond the physical, and eventually, feel the affects the physical practice has on the more subtle koshas (layers or sheaths) of the human body. Through practicing simplicity we could begin to notice how every action, every movement could become a part of our practice. Every second is another chance to infuse this moment with a complete breath, an open and welcoming heart and an inquisitive, yet un-tethered mind. Perhaps it is this appreciation for simplicity that allows for clarity of thought and freedom from the confines of the mind.

The November Focus of the Month is ‘Gratitude,’ and is defined in the dictionary as ‘an appreciative awareness and thankfulness, as for kindness shown or something received.’ All of these words are often used and heard in yoga class and during this amazing time of year it may become easier to understand their meaning. We have abundance from our local surroundings to appreciate, from the farmer’s crops to the crisp air, changing leaves and even these incredible lingering warm sunny days. After yet another bustling season in the Hamptons, we again find peace and quiet. You may arrive for class and notice there is a little more room around your yoga mat to spread into as well.

Sometimes our practice on and off the mat however, can stir up more than just the good stuff. Physical, mental and emotional obstacles lead us from our path. We can easily forget to slow down, drop in, and even how to take a deep breath. Often we lose sight of the big picture, getting caught up in the mind chatter, focusing on everything we don’t have rather than what we do.

The Thanksgiving holiday is soon upon us and can be a reminder to prepare with humility and gratitude more than just shopping lists and schedules. Perhaps as a community of yogis, regardless of level or of what state the mind/body is in at the moment, we can together set an intention this month to sincerely give thanks. Creating an appreciative awareness for all that we receive. I wonder how that intention might alter our practice or shift our outlook within a day? We all can attempt extending kindness towards ourselves as well as strangers, embracing loved ones, or simply taking a moment to stand in tadasana, watch the sunset or swim in the ocean. Whatever connects you to the earth and its unbelievable bounty!

I took a class with Genevieve Kapuler this morning and was humbled by the precision and the poetry of her instruction. The insightfulness of her teaching inspired me to remain present. There was no escaping. I confronted new boundaries, made realizations and then watched as my mind attempted to fix them in a state of ‘knowing’, I lost my balance and then found it again, I learned, but mostly I was reminded to refine, encouraged to move deeper and deeper into my experience on a moment to moment basis.

It is amazing how much there is to uncover as well as how far there is to travel when each step is taken mindfully. It is astounding what the practice can become when it is approached that skillfully. It is delicate and profound, but simple nonetheless. All the practice seems to ask is that I pay precise attention to what is being delivered – whether by my teachers or from what I uncover elsewhere – and then, that I explore and observe how I receive that information.

Finding time for daily practice can be a challenge, but it is the very thing that most of us need. So why is that time so hard to make? Why is it far easier to float along as our habitual selves when most of the time those habits seem only to lead to greater frustration and more suffering? I shudder to think how many times there have been in my life that I wish I could have slid a string of words back into my mouth as they were emerging or have listened with more care before I reacted. And yet, those kinds of realizations have become the impetus for my practice as well as its substance.

Pema Chodron writes, “We already have everything that we need.” So why is it that so much of the time, so many of us feel quite the opposite? I can only speak from my own experience and say that my struggle against the innate intelligence to which Chodron refers is fear, the fear that I might not have the answer, but as I am slowly learning, the real beauty of the practice comes, as Rilke advises, by living these questions. That takes practice.

Paying attention is a practice. Patience is a practice. Being is a practice. Mindfulness is a practice. Practice, practice, practice. I have only just begun to peel back the layers in my own practice, but what has been revealed has been worth every effort I have made.

Whatever your method, make a commitment to your practice. Collect wisdom. Challenge your habits and beliefs. It might just be the key to freeing all beings everywhere from suffering, which includes you. Now isn’t that worthy of investigation?

Ah September, my favorite time of year. As a gardener and someone who works outside most of the time, I realize that I think that about each season.

In the spring, I am preparing the beds and planting. The sowing of seeds and ideas is so exciting. The summer months have their long days that I spend tending what I’ve sown; watering, feeding, and weeding, making space for everything to grow and come to fruition. The fall, with its shorter and cooler days, is when I can harvest what I’ve sown. To be honest, I don’t grow many vegetables, but I do enjoy the corn, tomatoes, melons, and other fruits and vegetables that are so bountiful during this time. I like the end of season work in my gardens, the cutting back, the taking stock of what was or was not successful. “Putting the gardens to bed.” I can almost feel the plants moving back to their roots, turning inward. They are moving towards a time of rest and quiet. Getting ready for the winter, when it seems that there is nothing there. Having tended the garden though, I know that something exists, beyond what was obvious during the season.

My work allows me to be so aware of change. I am reminded that everything in the physical world is always changing. Everything around us is in a state of transition.

The garden looks its best in the middle of summer. I wish it could stay just as it is, but it is going to change whether I want it to or not. And if it didn’t change, there would be no fruits to be harvested, there would be no time of rest, nor a new beginning in the spring.

In the Hindu calendar, the time from the end of August into the middle of September, is called Bhadapadra. During this month the elephant headed God Ganesh is celebrated. He is worshipped as the God of new beginnings and overcoming obstacles, the God of transitions.

I think it is important to note that Hinduism and Yoga are two separate concepts. Hinduism is a religion. Yoga is a science or a practice. We can draw inspiration from the Hindu religion for our Yoga practice.

So much has been written about Ganesh and what he represents. In the interest of saving time and space let me just say that his elephant head denotes wisdom and his trunk represents Om. The sound of Om- the sound of the Universe- is what I see manifested in my gardens, the inevitable changes, the constant evolving. There is a beginning, middle, and end, or an arising, an abiding, and a dissolving.

We can use our Asana practice as a way to develop a sense of this constant change. Each pose has a beginning, middle, and an end. And more important than the awareness of the change, is the ability to not be attached to the outcome. Change is going to happen whether we want it to or not.  We can practice just going with the flow.

In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali wrote much about non-attachment. He was referring to more than attachment to the physical body, but as we flow through an Asana class we can practice non-attachment. Arise, abide, dissolve, and just see what works. After all, it’s just a yoga pose.

All of our Asana practice leads up to the most important, and as defined by B.K.S. Iyengar in Light on Yoga, the most challenging pose-Savasana, final relaxation, corpse pose.

On a basic level, final relaxation can be a time to absorb the affects of your practice. Lie down, get comfortable, reap what you have sown.   Savasana represents more than that though. And this is the challenging part. Practicing complete non-attachment to what we think defines us. If we think of the Om cycle as having a beginning, middle and an end, in Savasana we are looking for the fourth part of the cycle, called Turiya. It is like my gardens when I put them to bed, it looks like there is nothing there. It is beyond outward appearances, it is outside of time and space.  It is a state of pure awareness, of transcendental consciousness.  This universal reality is the true fruit of our yoga practice.

According to Swami Satchidananda, yoga and meditation are one and the same, practiced with the goal of calming the mind. That’s why it can be said that all of yoga is based on the second sutra of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras: “yogas chitta vritti nirodhah” Which means, the restraint of the modifications of the mind-stuff is Yoga.

The mind thinks it’s responsible for creating our happiness. But anyone who tries – and haven’t we all – knows you can’t think your way to happiness. But the good news is that happiness already vibrates inside us. We don’t even need to amplify it. We simply need to quiet the noise that keeps us from experiencing it. Quieting the noise is nirodhah. That doesn’t mean forcing the mind to stop thinking. Nirodhah is really a flow. Like the smell of a beautiful flower that keeps drawing you toward it. The focus of meditation should be uplifting and beautiful, like the sound Om, or the breath. We let the mind think its thoughts. It’s only doing its job, after all. But over and over, we gently guide the awareness back to the focus of meditation.
Vritti, the mind stuff, is like whirling activity. It creates a web that gets more complicated and dense with each new thought. Focusing on the object of meditation slows down the activity. The web begins to unwind and glimpses of light begin to show through. The awareness becomes aligned with that current of grace that flows through all things. We drop into that place that knows not because it has more information, but simply because it knows.

It’s important that we don’t take ourselves too seriously in the practice. Drama won’t bring us closer to stillness. Steady, simple practice is the key. It’s better to make a small effort every day than to do an intense devoted practice every once in a while. With simple daily effort, the rhythm of our practice begins to permeate our lives. And then, when we least expect it, we feel the fruits of our efforts. Just like when we lie on the sand after swimming, we sometimes still feel the movement of the ocean, when meditation practice is steady, the awareness naturally begins to remember nirodhah. Then detachment kicks in, and we experience self-mastery. Things that hooked us in the past don’t bother us and we retain our peace even in spite of chaos around us.

The simple practice of meditation is a gift to the world. In the words of Yeats, “We can make our minds so like still water that beings gather about us that they may see, it may be, their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer, perhaps even with a fiercer life because of our quiet.”

May your journey toward the silence to which everything is moving be a beautiful one. Om shantih, shantih, shantih, Subhadra

In order to bring a sense of continuity and cohesiveness to all of our classes and give teachers a theme to inspire and inform their teaching, Yoga Shanti is introducing a “Focus of the Month.” Jessica and Colleen chose to begin with the concept of “karma” and thought that I should be the person to write something about the topic since Karma is the name I chose for my daughter.

Karma translates as deed, act or action. The Law of Karma is the Law of Cause and Effect, for every action there is a reaction. The effect of all our actions create past, present and future circumstances. According to karma, positive acts bring about good results and negative acts bring about bad results. Some reactions may be immediate (if you place your hand in the flame it will burn) while other effects may not be felt until later in the present life or the next. Karma is not about being punished or thinking that when unpleasant things happen in your life that it is a result of something bad you must have done in your past. In fact, Karma is not about reward, punishment or blame at all. My teacher Douglas Brooks says that “Karma is about accountability, not necessarily responsibility.” With this in mind we can see that the point of karma is to work with, and thus through our life’s circumstances rather than blame them on others or our own past.

Pema Chodron writes in 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion “the idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings you need in order to open your heart… Your life gives you everything you need to learn how to open further.”

Rumi echoes this notion in the famous poem The Guest House “a joy, a depression, a meanness, a crowd of sorrows…. be grateful for whatever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” Every circumstance in our life presents us with a chance to wake up, to know the Self and move towards a state of yoga, or the state of nothing missing. The Doctrine of Karma can push us towards right thinking, right speech and right action. One of the many paths to achieve “Yoga” is the Yoga of Action known as Karma Yoga which is selfless service. For me, there is no greater
expression of karma yoga than being a mother. The Guru Neem Karoli Baba told Krishna Das and his other devotees that the way to become enlightened is to “Feed people. Serve people.” That pretty much sums up being a mother!

In my brief two years at the job of motherhood, my daughter has taught me more about my past, shown me how to stay in the present moment, and made me more aware of my actions on my future than anything else in my life thus far. She is my greatest blessing and the culmination of all that I have done right. Truly, my good Karma.