Yoga Scholars

My old buddy Rod Yee will often tell people that I’m a yoga “scholar,” which is akin to calling the heavily tattooed, long-haired dude who works over at our neighborhood pizza joint a “gourmet chef.” Rodney, bless his heart, knows a ton about yoga, but to paraphrase a famous line from an old VP debate, I know scholars, and, sir, I am not a scholar. I’ve had the good luck over the years to be friendly with several of our most noted yoga scholars, among them the late Georg Feuerstein, for whom I served as the assistant director of his now defunct Yoga Research and Education Center, and Mark Singleton, author of what is, in my humble opinion, one of the most important yoga histories of modern times, Yoga Body.

So yes, I know yoga scholars. What set these two gentlemen apart from an earlier generation, which, for the most part, was made up of eggheads only, is that both were extraordinary practitioners—they not only talked the talk, they also walked the walk.

A few years ago I began running across the yoga essays of a man by the name of James Mallinson. I’m not, I repeat, a scholar, but I like to think that after 34 years of study, I know a little bit about hatha yoga. It became crystal clear, however, after two or three encounters with Mr. Mallinson’s work, that I would have to downsize that “little bit” of knowledge to a “teensy little bit.”

Then it came to pass that the aforementioned Messers Singleton and Mallinson teamed up for a Kickstarter project, and asked me—me!—to endorse it. To get some idea of how honored I felt, as a lifelong Yankee fan, it was akin to being asked to give my seal of approval to the Commerce Comet and the Chairman of the Board—Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford to you, Mets fans.

Then one thing led to another, and I soon had an occasional email correspondence going with Mr. Mallinson. I was a bit intimidated when I first wrote to “Dear Mr. Mallinson,” wondering if he’d even bother to reply, but the very next day there was “Jim” in my inbox. He turned out to be a regular guy, incredibly generous with his time (he’s a master Sanskritist who helped me immeasurably with a translation I was struggling with), humorous in that dry British way, and most of all, incredibly dismissive about all his amazing accomplishments.

Like Georg and Mark, James is not only a scholar but a most dedicated practitioner of the venerable discipline of yoga. Many of my yoga friends take great pride in their three or four trips to India over the years to study, but Jim has been every year for the last twenty-five years. Have you ever been to India? I have, and to paraphrase an old Army promo, it’s not just a trip, it’s an adventure. Twenty-five years running counts in my book as remarkable. His time there has been spent studying yoga in the traditional way—the way it was done for a thousand years in India—face-to-face with an acknowledged guru.

Yoga Shanti, the best yoga school in the country east of Piedmont Yoga in Oakland, will be hosting James in Sag Harbor on Saturday, August 23, and on Wednesday, August 27, at Shanti’s Big Apple venue. If you fancy yourself a serious yoga practitioner, there’s absolutely no excuse I can think of for not being in attendance. I’ve been to a couple of his talks out here on the Left Coast, and had the great good fortune to sit down to a dinner with him. I promise, guarantee, and assure you, that you will come away from the talk if not enlightened, then a heck of a lot smarter about yoga than when you arrived. I’m coming—to paraphrase another famous Brit, wild horses couldn’t keep me away—so see you there, or be square.

True Independence: Freedom to Feel

I danced Shiva Rea-style alone in my dark bedroom last night. Sshh, don’t tell anyone.

I barely told myself.

Dance, poetry, music…yoga—each of these experiences affords us entry into that special, magical kingdom within, from which we are otherwise barred entry, barraged and embedded as we are in schedules, plans, strategies. By their grace we regain a kind of Eden missing from ordinary life. The poetry, the music, the yoga—All summons that Eden forward. We exit relative reality and bask however briefly in the divine extravagance of pure feeling, unencumbered by duality.

Yoga fails when self-consciousness enters the room. Fretting at all over “what others may think” renders the holy dance dead in the water, and yoga then doesn’t happen for us; there is no joy, and yoga continues its sad descent into empty Indian calisthenics with nifty side effects like longer hamstrings and a calm brow. Yoga and its offerings devolve to mere stress management, and another sage rolls over in an ancient grave.

We are entreated over and over to “be present.” But we can’t be present and think at the same time. Impossible! We are only ever thinking thoughts about the past, whether a lifetime ago, a year ago, or three seconds ago; or thinking thoughts about the future, whether a lifetime ahead, a year ahead, or three seconds ahead. Go ahead and try to think about something that isn’t one of those things. Thinking about what I just wrote is thinking about the past.

Reality, otherwise known as What Is, lives in neither the past nor the future. EVER. As real as our thoughts feel, they separate us from What Is. Funny, isn’t it? We have been trained to think of thinking as being super aware, when more often it’s the opposite. Thinking gets you in touch with other thoughts that mate furiously and have more thoughts. They don’t believe in birth control. It feels like an ant colony up in there, doesn’t it?

The yogis knew this a long time ago. The English word “mind” (as in yours) comes from the Sanskrit “mana,” which means “to measure.” That’s because to think is to measure; it is to separate and divide one thing from another like Chinese from French, or raincoat from down parka, or red from blue. Helpful if you’re allergic to French and its snowing and you’d like to vote Democratic, but beyond that, not helpful for the yogini.

That’s why we who teach yoga are always asking you to stay with the breath. The breath is one thing you can count on as occurring in the present moment and only in the present moment. To disappear inside of it is to merge in the present moment. Very paradoxical. Yoga can place you in direct relationship with your IS. The senses come alive like water hitting desert and they alone key us into what IS rather than what is a thought in your head that shuffles around year after year taking up space and making you wonder if Bellevue has a spare bed on the 6th floor.

There’s a lot working against you, making it damn hard to follow the advice of the teacher telling you again and again to “be present.” You’ve got the NSA peeking in your underwear drawers and cameras on every corner recording as you walk the dog, fight with your lover, sob in 7/11, and determine which carrot to buy for dinner. Add the proliferation of social media and the idea of always being “on,” lest someone upload you chowing down at Tutti mid-pasta bite, and we are all occasionally turned into strange creatures made of appearance and scrim, wish, and fib.

We have been trained not to feel…anything. By “feelings” I don’t mean your emotions. I have no advice about them. They are in a league of their own, as you and your team of shrinks well know. Here we mean the feelings of the body. It’s scary. To feel is to be vulnerable. You’re only allowed to feel things in the bedroom or in a paid stranger’s small, candlelit den, replete with Enya, warm oil, and massage certificates on a dim wall. Much easier to think your way through a yoga class. But we all know how that works out in the bedroom. It’s the same on your mat. To be present is to be available for what’s going down.

Only the strong can tolerate being vulnerable. When you start to feel the subtle, shimmering, ever-arising and disappearing, tactile somatic glimmerings of the body, life avails herself to you in an entirely different way, and the whole fake Western pioneer town of your life begins to fall down. You see for the first time that there is nothing at all behind the façade of cowboys and saloons and dusty horses. Connection is not a thought. Joy is not a thought. Compassion is not a thought. All are an experience, a feeling.

No longer are you asunder from Everything Else. No longer are you twiddling your thumbs on the sidelines of nature, that green thing out the window. Rather, you step fully and completely into the ever-present NOW, and that book you read half of by Eckhart Tolle begins to make dramatic and compelling sense, and you don’t need anyone anymore to tell you up from down, right from wrong, yes from no, because you are now IN IN IN. And for a glorious moment, all truth and wisdom is yours.

God isn’t an entity to worship but an experience to have. It’s a funny thing when the founders of religions are allowed to experience ecstasy, but their adherents aren’t.

Quit that.

Love,

Kelly

Pratyahara

We all use our five senses to experience and navigate through the world around us. But in order to gain “right relationship” with the world and our highest selves, yogis focus on the inner world. We do this through the practice of pratyahara, which means “to draw the senses inward.” (Pratyahara is one of the eight limbs of ashtanga yoga set down by the great sage Patanjali in his Yoga Sutras—so it’s a pretty important thing to look at if you’re interested in yoga.)

When we practice pratyahara, we soften our skin, release the inners ears, and relax our eyes. This is just a start, but already we begin to have an inkling of the vast interior space of our being. We gain insight and intuition. All the “aha moments” experienced in yoga class are a result of tuning in to our bodies, minds, and hearts.

This is an exciting start to spiritual practice. Just by turning our attention inward and listening, we hear and receive guidance. With practice, we begin to trust the invisible. It takes a leap of faith to listen to our inner voice, and a further leap to respond to the messages sung to us through our bodies.

Paying profound attention to the self is not unlike diving into the ocean. It can be scary, and we worry about what might come out of the depths; but there is nothing more exhilarating. As Rumi says, “Don’t be a cup with a dry rim.”

Happy Summer 2014

Know Thyself (Svadhyaya)

We ran into Socrates the other day—you know, virtually—and he said, “Know thyself.” Turns out Socrates was a yogi. “Knowing oneself,” or svadhyaya, is one of the foundational practices of yoga. Svadhyaya means the study of ancient texts, as well as the study of oneself: When you delve into the wisdom of the ancients, and bravely dive into the depths of your own soul, an alchemical reaction can occur. And you just might form a lasting friendship in the process.

We met each other at the Yoga Shanti Teacher Training in 2010. Over the course of the year, Colleen and Rodney inspired us to bring the ancient practices of yoga into a modern context. The Richards (Rosen and Freeman), Manorama, and our mentors also talked to us about carrying a sacred baton. We were encouraged to keep a journal where we could reflect on our experiences in asana, pranayama, and meditation. Put simply, we were encouraged to practice svadhyaya.

Throughout the training, we learned that there is a method to sequencing that can leave you feeling whole. We were not unseasoned practitioners, but yoga can turn into contortion faster than you can say eka pada koundinyasana. Without the encouragement to develop an inner listening—to practice self-study—it may not be until your low back is screaming in pain that you pay attention.

We discovered that when you are firmly rooted in a lineage of knowledge while still maintaining the freedom to explore and reflect, amazing things can happen. When you practice inner listening, your unique voice begins to emerge. If you are under the guidance of nurturing teachers, you will feel encouraged to contribute your unique voice to this dynamic conversation that has been going on for thousands of years. Innovation is possible. The sacred baton is in your hands. It’s incredibly exciting!

The Yoga Shanti Teacher Training not only reshaped our bodies, but our lives. It helped us to create a foundation for a solid friendship, which soon evolved into a business partnership. Together we launched a website called Breathe Repeat, which provides resources for the modern yogi. We write a blog to encourage others to put a little east in their west and explore what it means to be a spiritual being in a material world. Manorama volunteered to write a Sanskrit Glossary for the site and Richard Rosen lends his insight on ways to honor our yogic roots while still being inquisitive and innovative.

B.K.S. Iyengar says, ”The techniques of yoga give you the opportunity to capture energy from the outside as well as from the inside and to use that energy for your personal evolution.” Our boy Socrates goes as far as to say, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Not worth living? What is so vital about the concept of self-study that would lead one of the greatest Western thinkers in history as well as a master yogi to extol svadhyaya?

Perhaps you should try it and find out. Honor the wisdom of those who have come before you. Learn to listen to the wisdom inside your own being. Once you are passed the sacred baton, where will you carry it?