I’ve always envied those people, both men and women, who cry. It was something that seemed impossible to me. I don’t know if it was me holding on to some macho notion of what it meant to be a man, even though I was 19 teaching yoga and spending the majority of my time in the company of married housewives. But I wanted to cry. I would try to squeeze out a tear at movies, while reading, in the appropriate “cry here/now” situation, but never with success. I watched my friends, partners and teachers cry. It not only seemed like such a release, but also that they were feeling life in more ways and deeper ways.
The word for tear in Sanskrit is aksha, which is the same word for eye, like in pratyaksha (senses) or literally in front of the eyes. It is said that Shiva’s tear, rudraksha, creates life. The tear is the bindu, a point, but much more the shape of a drop (3-D) than a point (2-D). That initial tear is filled with Shiva’s juice, rasa, or emotions. In Indian aesthetics art has 9 (originally 8) essential emotive qualities called rasa: erotic, comic, compassionate, ferocious, fearful, heroic, disgustful, wonder, and peaceful. The same aesthetic philosophy becomes a school of yoga called Alamkaradhvani. The original tear is filled with all the qualities that make life an art. The verbal root ras, where rasa comes from means to roar, yell, cry out, scream. The eye creates the tear, which acts like a lens to perceive and taste life.
I was taught that life happens in the tears. I would sit at retreats and the other students all around me would have these breakdowns. I felt like I wanted to have what they were having. I didn’t want the transformations I was having (which I was at exponential rates). I wanted to have that cathartic meltdown everyone else was having as my transformation. Only I never did. Did I have to live a life of hardship, self-abnegation, or torture myself? Why was I barren? Was this something I had to learn or was it more who I am?
Now I hate using age as an excuse. Sometimes it is true that age matters. You just experience more as you live. Yet, age doesn’t mean that you can’t be good at something simply because you are young. But age has seemed to be a big factor for me. In my own aging, I have grown up. I have experienced many of the hardships of life, but more the joys that come with living. I have lost relationships, friends, and businesses. People I know have died, life has been filled with terror and now the economy looms towards a depression. I have lived with the responsibilities of taking care of others and all the hardships and stresses that come with such responsibilities.
I’ve found my tears, but not because of the hardships, but because of the greatest joys. The loves of my life is where my tears formed. My wife, baby and stepsons have brought me tears – full cathartic meltdowns (it’s true I have it on video). After the birth of my son, life changed. It got juicier and I started to taste (rasa) and see (aksha) in deeper and more ways. And the tears started flowing and flooding. Now, when I am at the movies, reading, or simply experiencing the joys and pains of others my eyes swell with life. I not only know there is a point (bindu) but I see it, feel it and taste it every day in the joys that surround me. My yoga never denies the hardships, but my yoga sees the joys as the creative power of my transformations.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
My First Noble Truth
I remember reading Pema Chodren’s book When Things Fall Apart when I was 19. I was heavy into my Buddhist studies and practices, and at that time her book was at the top of the must read list. At 19 what did I know about things falling apart? As children and young adults we are so overly egocentric that everything happening seems larger than it is, or that we are the only ones who’ve ever had any of this happen to. So, I can’t say that at 19 things didn’t seem to be falling apart, it’s just now when I look back at then and I look at now, the notion of falling apart seems worlds apart.
Life is great (that’s the first Noble Truth for me). As a great life we don’t have to fix anything. If life is inherently suffering, well then, you’ve got to relieve that suffering. Otherwise you will always be suffering. If life’s an error, an illusion or a mistake then you have to transcend, escape or transmute the state your in, in order to achieve liberation. You have to be liberated from something into something. Which leaves the question, where do you go when you achieve this liberation? This is why life is not the problem. Life is great.
So when I look at things falling apart, and my tendency is to fix them, I’m beginning to wonder whether that’s what I’m supposed to do? If I’m here to fix life then I have to understand what’s broken and look at repairing that. If life is great, then I have to see how I’m not being myself and then shift myself back into the optimal me. But it still seems like I’m always trying to make something better. When Things Fall Apart is actually not describing life, but prescribing life in its title. A Buddhist believes that life is impermanent and everything is in a constant play of joining and parting. When you understand that things “fall apart” you see life’s impermanence, and therefore cease clinging to these things. Really, it’s not bad advice. There is a time in our lives when we need to loosen the grip, expand our perspective, and stop dwelling in the predicament.
Yet, at the same time those things rejoin, right? The yoga is in the rejoining, not just that things fall apart and rejoin, but in how you make the relationship between them. All of a sudden, I realize that my life is always falling apart. It’s a hard life. It’s a challenging life. But at the same time, it is always joining together. It’s a simple, enjoyable life too. Instead of spending my time trying to fix what’s falling apart, which is impossible, I just remember to be me. In fact, our lives’ fall apart when we forget who we are and act in that forgetfulness. Many times things fall apart because we are so busy trying to keep things together. Kind of ironic, huh.
My life is no more or less challenging than yours. In fact, I am sure we all live under the same normal amount of stresses that comes in waves. My life may appear more or less stressful than yours right now, but I am sure that will switch at some point and balance out. So, we’re all in the same boat, which is happening to be falling apart right now, but let’s make the choice together to see the falling apart as just as great as the joining together. Your life is great not because you achieve a state, but because you can always be yourself in whatever event is happening.
Life is great (that’s the first Noble Truth for me). As a great life we don’t have to fix anything. If life is inherently suffering, well then, you’ve got to relieve that suffering. Otherwise you will always be suffering. If life’s an error, an illusion or a mistake then you have to transcend, escape or transmute the state your in, in order to achieve liberation. You have to be liberated from something into something. Which leaves the question, where do you go when you achieve this liberation? This is why life is not the problem. Life is great.
So when I look at things falling apart, and my tendency is to fix them, I’m beginning to wonder whether that’s what I’m supposed to do? If I’m here to fix life then I have to understand what’s broken and look at repairing that. If life is great, then I have to see how I’m not being myself and then shift myself back into the optimal me. But it still seems like I’m always trying to make something better. When Things Fall Apart is actually not describing life, but prescribing life in its title. A Buddhist believes that life is impermanent and everything is in a constant play of joining and parting. When you understand that things “fall apart” you see life’s impermanence, and therefore cease clinging to these things. Really, it’s not bad advice. There is a time in our lives when we need to loosen the grip, expand our perspective, and stop dwelling in the predicament.
Yet, at the same time those things rejoin, right? The yoga is in the rejoining, not just that things fall apart and rejoin, but in how you make the relationship between them. All of a sudden, I realize that my life is always falling apart. It’s a hard life. It’s a challenging life. But at the same time, it is always joining together. It’s a simple, enjoyable life too. Instead of spending my time trying to fix what’s falling apart, which is impossible, I just remember to be me. In fact, our lives’ fall apart when we forget who we are and act in that forgetfulness. Many times things fall apart because we are so busy trying to keep things together. Kind of ironic, huh.
My life is no more or less challenging than yours. In fact, I am sure we all live under the same normal amount of stresses that comes in waves. My life may appear more or less stressful than yours right now, but I am sure that will switch at some point and balance out. So, we’re all in the same boat, which is happening to be falling apart right now, but let’s make the choice together to see the falling apart as just as great as the joining together. Your life is great not because you achieve a state, but because you can always be yourself in whatever event is happening.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Forgive me Internet, it has been 1 year since my last blog
Okay, okay, I know it has been far too long. I don’t know if I’m lazy or that November is my month to write. I think it is November. I realize that it is this time of the year when I transition the most. Is it the impending winter season? Am I like an animal that is gathering all my thoughts like food to store and go into hibernation? A year of hibernating…now that’s an idea! Is it the election and all the excitement of change in the air? Perhaps I connect to the traditions around the world where this time symbolizes the New Year. I don’t know, but it was last year at this time that I resigned from Anusara. It was last year at this time that I had all these grandiose ideas and was inspired to produce them all. Then the year happened and what a year it was. Now, it is this time of the year again and I sit here thinking I’m lost.
Now, I’m not interested in retelling my year to you. As interesting as I find my own life, I am sure you find yours more interesting. Yet, how could I write or share anything if it wasn’t about me? A year ago at this time, I sat with the world of opportunity in front of me. I had spent the betterment of 2 years struggling to make a very hard choice whether to leave Anusara or not. After making that choice, it was like I had found myself – the clarity and honesty were so raw and I had all the energy and enthusiasm to mold those opportunities. In that great spiritual dilemma, I thought I had found myself.
I remembered yesterday a critical turning point in the Ramayana. Right after Rama loses Sita, and the Kishkindya Kanda begins, Rama is cursing the forest, its creatures and the whole world. He becomes the Howler, a name of Shiva, and therefore loses himself or becomes something else. It’s the turning point of the book because a new journey must begin, the one of re-connection to what he has already known because yoga is always a journey to connect with what is already possible. Rama’s journey is our journey through the forest of thoughts and emotions, in a world of the familiar yet unknown, in a world where success is your privilege, but fulfillment is not your guarantee. Rama’s journey through the forest is our own turning inwards to reflect and learn about whom we are and what we can do. Rama’s return from the forest, with Sita and Hanuman and the fulfillment of his yoga is the turning from the density of uncertainty to the clear light of the City where a world looks to embrace and share with him and he can embrace it back.
The funny thing is, I thought in these last two years that it has been at this time where I have felt lost, and in all the uncertainty that makes my life I found myself sharing my thoughts, like mythic stories. Only now, I realize that it is this time each year that I return home after another long year and journey into losing myself. It is in my year that happens between these blogs where I have been losing myself, wondering through my own forest, encountering interesting characters, being seduced, angry, in love and in awe, yet not fulfilled. For what ever reasons the Universe seems to steer me in, each year I return to see myself whole, even if it is just for a moment. Well, my goal is to lose myself again, after all that is where the power of transformation begins, but this year I hope to not forget myself in that process. In other words, I’ll be back before next November!
Now, I’m not interested in retelling my year to you. As interesting as I find my own life, I am sure you find yours more interesting. Yet, how could I write or share anything if it wasn’t about me? A year ago at this time, I sat with the world of opportunity in front of me. I had spent the betterment of 2 years struggling to make a very hard choice whether to leave Anusara or not. After making that choice, it was like I had found myself – the clarity and honesty were so raw and I had all the energy and enthusiasm to mold those opportunities. In that great spiritual dilemma, I thought I had found myself.
I remembered yesterday a critical turning point in the Ramayana. Right after Rama loses Sita, and the Kishkindya Kanda begins, Rama is cursing the forest, its creatures and the whole world. He becomes the Howler, a name of Shiva, and therefore loses himself or becomes something else. It’s the turning point of the book because a new journey must begin, the one of re-connection to what he has already known because yoga is always a journey to connect with what is already possible. Rama’s journey is our journey through the forest of thoughts and emotions, in a world of the familiar yet unknown, in a world where success is your privilege, but fulfillment is not your guarantee. Rama’s journey through the forest is our own turning inwards to reflect and learn about whom we are and what we can do. Rama’s return from the forest, with Sita and Hanuman and the fulfillment of his yoga is the turning from the density of uncertainty to the clear light of the City where a world looks to embrace and share with him and he can embrace it back.
The funny thing is, I thought in these last two years that it has been at this time where I have felt lost, and in all the uncertainty that makes my life I found myself sharing my thoughts, like mythic stories. Only now, I realize that it is this time each year that I return home after another long year and journey into losing myself. It is in my year that happens between these blogs where I have been losing myself, wondering through my own forest, encountering interesting characters, being seduced, angry, in love and in awe, yet not fulfilled. For what ever reasons the Universe seems to steer me in, each year I return to see myself whole, even if it is just for a moment. Well, my goal is to lose myself again, after all that is where the power of transformation begins, but this year I hope to not forget myself in that process. In other words, I’ll be back before next November!
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