Reflections

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
~ Anais Nin ~

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Is the reflection a strong, confident person, or someone who needs to lose 10 pounds? Is the face looking back at you a husband or wife, father or mother, boss or employee, son or daugther, student or drop-out? Does the person looking back at you change during the day? Is it a different face in the morning than it is in the evening?

In truth, all you see when you look in the mirror is the interplay between light and a reflective surface. All of the other identities, attachments and aversions are those that we create from our own experience and judgement.

We have other mirrors around us all the time. They are our friends, relatives, co-workers; even the person who serves us our coffee. Each of them acts as a reflective medium of our behavior and attitude, bouncing back to us our own behavior based on their experience of us. When we are feeling upbeat and friendly most people react in kind. When we are grouchy and abrupt, people may treat us coolly or even avoid us altogether. If, however, we are generally happy and sociable, and one day we are grouchy and sullen, those who know us may react with concern. Suspecting something is wrong, they may behave more compassionately or even cautiously towards us. If we are generally quiet and reserved, and suddenly begin to make jokes and "let our hair down," people may be surprised at first; perhaps even shocked. Some may become suspicious, others may begin to gravitate toward us, still others may try to encourage us to continue in this new behavior.
We also react to what other people say and do through the filter of our own experience and attitude at the particular moment. Someone says "have a nice day," and depending on our circumstances, we might react in a variety of ways. If we've just been met with some bad news, we might lash out. If we are in a rush, we might dismiss the sentiment. If we are feeling upbeat, we might respond with a smile and a "Same to you!" Each of these reactions will then be reflected back by the recipient based on their experience at the time, and their knowledge of us. So each of our interchanges becomes a series of reflections back and forth, much like a funhouse maze.

Of course, just like in a funhouse, sometimes our image gets distorted when it is reflected back. Often this happens in the context of a relationship, be it spouses, relatives, friends, co-workers, simply becuase there already exists a set of expectations and behaviors. We say or do something, and depending on the recipient's state of mind they might misinterpret our words or deeds. The distortions caused by their present cirumstances bend our meaning like the waves in a carnival mirror, and what is reflected back is out of proportion to reality. They react in a way that we weren't expecting, we get confused and react back based on that confusion. All of a sudden we are embroiled in something completely different than we had intended.

This is what Patanjali refers to when he speaks of the "citta vritti," or "fluctuations of the mind." Through our practice of awareness, observation and attention, we are able to recognize when we are reacting out of our circumstances rather than the reality of the situation. Once we are able to clean and smooth out the surface of our mind, we become able to interrupt these patterns before they take hold, allowing us to see and react with clarity and equanimity. When we become sensitive and receptive to how others react towards us, reflecting our behavior, we develop the ability to understand how our actions are seen, and we gain greater insight into our own agendas and attitudes. Ahimsa (non-harming) and Satya (truthfulness) become the light that uncovers patterns of behavior, and we begin to take responsibility for our actions and attitudes.

When I teach Partner Yoga, the one thing that I always find interesting is witnessing how the partners relate to each other. It's easy to see what the relationship is like simply through the way the participants work with each other. Do they work as a team, or is one person the leader? Does one person get frustrated with the other because they are not as strong/flexible/ supportive? Do the partners take time to really relate to each other, to sense each other's breath and presence, or do they plow headlong attached to their own agenda? One woman asked me during a private Partner session if this was couples therapy. I smiled and said, "No, this is just yoga. But if you remain open, who knows what you might discover."

Frank's workshop day 1

OK, I'm amazed that I'm even able to type...my shoulders are so sore from all the inversions today!

I'm loving the Louisville Yoga community! They're very friendly and welcoming, and the Yoga East studio we're at is spacious and lovely. I didn't realize that so many of the teachers here are OM yoga trained.

The first workshop today focused on the awareness of how the breath and body work together in the yoga practice; how we can use the awareness of our breath to align our bodies and how the precise attention to the breath informs our asana practice. The thing I love about Frank's teaching is his precision of language and attention to detail. This, combined with an in-depth understanding of anatomy and a keen eye for alignment all make him one of the most perceptive teachers I've worked with. The second workshop focused on standing poses and inversions. Specifically, about how the grounding of our bodies, either through our feet or our hands, provides the lifting that we need to find ease in these challenging poses. Frank does a fabulous job of preparing you for each step of a pose, no matter how challenging. At one point we were working on Badha Parvritta Parsvokonasana (Bound Rotated Side Angle), and taking that to Badha Parvritta Ardha Chandrasana Bound rotated Ardha Chandrasana). It was the closest I've come to that pose (and I would have gotten it had it not been for a bit too much hummus at lunch). After several Pincha Mayurasana (Forearm Balance) and a few wheels, not to mention an extended Shoulderstand, I was done.

After class, several of us went to dinner at a local pub/cafe. We had a wonderful time hanging out, sharing stories and winding down. I'm SO looking forward to tomorrow.

Why we practice

Like many, if not all, of you, I was entranced by the events of yesterday's miraculous plane ditching in the Hudson River. For any of you who have flown in or out of LaGuardia airport, even a normal landing or take-off can be a bit harrowing. Between the winds over the East River and Flushing Bay, the impressive yet daunting buildings that make up New York City and the sheer amount of air traffic, even seasoned travellers find themselves running through disaster scenarios in their minds. After what appears to be a collision with a flock of geese which took out both engines moments after take-off, the idea that Capt. Sullenberger had the presence of mind to quickly run through his various options, and then was able to put the aircraft down - safely - in the middle of the Hudson River without hitting buildings, bridges, piers AND with no loss of life is impressive indeed. Granted, a bit of luck was on his side. Except for the bone-chilling cold, the weather conditions were, as the aviation pundits like to say, favorable. Despite not being able to see below, there were no helicopters, aircraft or boats underneath him. Still, the single most impressive factor that saved the 155 lives on board was preparation.

Capt. Sullenberger is a former Air Force pilot with 40 years of experience flying planes. Additionally, he is an aviation accident investigator and safety expert. This mix of experience and preparation assisted him in quickly analyzing the situation and taking an appropriate course of action. According to some of the interviews with other pilots I heard on the news last night, the ditching was nearly textbook. One pilot, who happened to be in the cockpit in another near-tragic plane crash a decade ago, said that pilots have the rare opportunity to be in the classroom everyday. Between personal experience behind the controls, as well as discussions with other pilots, a mental file drawer of various scenarios and solutions is put together. Capt. Sullenberger, with his years of experience, had a mental file drawer that was overflowing, but the one quality that distinguished him yesterday was his ability to maintain composure under extreme conditions. Had he panicked, the results yesterday might have been quite different.

What Capt. Sullenberger possessed was an ability to focus, control his emotions and calm himself. Constant practice created a habit. As Patanjali says in the Yoga Sutras, practice becomes firmly grounded when well attended to for a long time, without break and in all earnestness. I recently found out that my brother-in-law, a retired NYC police officer, established a practice of only firing three shots at a time on the pistol range. He wanted to make sure that, should he ever have to use deadly force, he had trained himself to not lose control and empty his clip.

Most of us will never run into these extreme situations, however we never know when a crisis might hit. We hit a patch of ice and our car begins to slide out of control. We look around and don't see our child beside us in the mall. We get a phone call that our sister got bad results on her cancer screening. Our computer crashes and all of the files that we need for the presentation tomorrow are now lost. Any of these situations might send us into a frenzy of panic which will cloud our judgement and cause us to act irrationally. By continually observing our own lives, and by observing others, we create our own mental file drawer of scenarios and solutions. By continually practicing our attention to our breath, how we react to stressful situations in our asana practice and a mindfulness to our surroundings, we might be able to react in a calm manner, taking appropriate action and averting a crisis.

Keeping it real

Every now and then I catch myself saying something in class, and immediately feel a cringe run through my body. Not that I said anything inappropriate (though I have to guard myself against that from time to time) or mean-spirited (that's really not in my nature...often). No, sometimes I say something that just doesn't sound like ME. Sometimes it's something I pick up from another teacher, but more often it's when I am trying to sound deep, profound and yoga-like. As soon as it's out of my mouth I feel the eyes of the entire class on me, and they are rolling.

I'm probably the only person who is accutely aware of when this happens. But every time it does, I feel like I've let the class down. After all, they made time in their day to come to my class, and they deserve something better than some recycled, re-hashed, regurgitated philosphical BS. Some of these pearls are prefaced with the words, "It is said that..." or "I'm told...," but often I'm just spouting something that I thought sounded clever. That's really just another way of saying, "I have no firsthand knowledge of this, but I don't want to appear ignorant so I'm going to hide behind this mask for a minute and I hope you don't notice."

Now I'm not saying that every morsel that trips off my tongue needs to be an epiphany or even an original thought...after all, there is so much written on the subject of yoga by people far more experienced than I, so I don't have to try to reinvent the wheel each time I teach. But, as a teacher, the one unique thing I have to offer is my own personal experience with whatever it is that I'm teaching. If my students want to know what Seane Corn or Pema Chodron or Cyndi Lee have to say on a particular subject, there are plenty of resources available. I might reference their wisdom, but if all I have to offer is what someone else says, then I might as well pop in a DVD and let the students follow that.

I've come a long way in finding my "authentic voice" as a teacher, but there is still plenty of room for growth. If I'm lucky, I'll continue learning and growing and gaining more and more experiences to draw from to illustrate the points I'm trying to make in class. But I guess in putting this out there, I'm holding myself accountable. Or at least keeping myself aware.

What's the appeal?

I often wonder...what is it that draws people to yoga? I'm sure each of your reasons would be unique. Are you looking to be challenged physically, mentally and spiritually? Or do you get enough of a challenge in your everyday life, and just want a place that is a happy and peaceful refuge?

Is it the workout? If it's just the physical aspect, then why yoga?

Is it the spiritual aspect? If so, then why not go to a more traditional house of worship?

Is it the sense of community? Why not volunteer?

What is it that keeps YOU coming to class?

Small Victories

I remember when I was a relatively new yoga student, and I imagined that I would be fully content if I could only get up into a headstand away from the wall. I tried and tried and tried, and after months (and falling through a wall) I finally got there. Of course, the next day I had completely lost the ability, and it took several more weeks before I was able to make my way up into the pose again. But by that time, I had my sights set on another "unachievable" pose: Handstand.

Throughout my yoga "career" I continually find poses that seem nearly impossible. Some I've been able to achieve, some I'm still working on. What I've learned, though, is that achievement of a particular pose is really immaterial, though it's still very exciting and empowering. (I also take a great deal of delight whenever one of my students, after weeks or even months of practice, achieves a goal that they set for themselves.) The important thing is that we keep trying and practicing. We keep taking action, and once in a while we can even let go of our attachment to the results of our efforts. For me, that is when yoga transcends the physical and the practice becomes an expression of play and of joy.

But not all of the achievements come from turning ourselves upside down, or twisting ourselves into a contortion that human beings should not be able to do. I teach a Chair Yoga class for a group of (primarily) seniors. Most of them have mobility issues of one type or another. Over the months that I've been teaching this class, I've seen definite improvement in all of the students, but it's really their dedication and commitment that inspires me. A few weeks ago, a new gentleman joined our class. He's roughly in his mid-eighties, and except for using a cane for balance, he appeared to be in relatively good health. He did complain of some balance issues, but mainly he felt "out of juice." I was immediately won over by his slightly mischievous personality. Anytime I asked him to do anything, he just chuckled to himself, as if to say "OK, I'll try, but don't expect too much."

Today, just four weeks into the session, he showed up without his cane, claiming he "forgot it." We worked on some seated breathing and stretching, all accompanied by his chuckle of resignation, then got up and worked on some standing poses to help with balance. We finished off with some seated twists, seated forward folds and a seated meditation/relaxation. At the end of class, the gentleman stood up (again, without the cane), and said, "Watch this." He bent over, reached down to the floor as if he were picking something up, then stood back up. He said that when he started the class, he couldn't even get halfway there, and walking without his cane was impossible. He said that once in a while throughout the day he even remembers to take some slow deep breaths. "I still feel out of juice, but this has helped," he chuckled as he left.

I've been witness to yoga's transformative effects in my own life, and I've seen students achieve inversions, binds and arm balances that they thought were impossible. I've been very happy and proud of each of them. I don't think, though, that I've ever felt as much satisfaction as a teacher as I did this morning when this gentleman told me that he could tie his own shoes for the first time in a long time.

IYA Fall Yoga Retreat - Day Three

Today was the final day of the IYA retreat. I'm a bit sad. As ready as I was to come home, I was having a great time hanging out with many friends, both old and new. There was a great energy and synergy going on.

So, last night I went down to socialize, but the only others there were prenatal teacher Jean Arnold and her husband and ADORABLE little boy. Jean and I had not officially met, even though we both taught at the same studio for a while, and it was great to get to know her a bit.

Got a bit more sleep last night, though I was still interrupted at about 2 a.m. by some folks returning from the downstairs bar. Reminded me of living back in NYC. I skipped Dona Robinson's Pranayama this a.m., opting for some sleep instead. Too bad, I'm sure it was wonderful. Dona is such a well-respected teacher in this area, and her depth of knowledge is amazing. My Adjustments and Alignment workshop went well, though I wish I had 2 more hours. We only got to about 4 or 5 poses, and really didn't get a chance to fully explore these.

The final workshop I went to was on the use of sound and chanting to enhance our pranayama and asana practice. Led by Devin McGuire, this was a unique method (to me, at least) of utilizing sound in order to locate and engage the bandhas, as well as a way to practice breath awareness, retention and suspension. I'm hoping that Devin is open to bringing his workshop up north...I think it would be very welcome at one of the studios I teach at.

Ended the day with lunch with some members of the IYA board. I'm considering volunteering, but probably not as a Chairperson. I'm sure there's more opportunities for service.

As always, I left the retreat feeling inspired, uplifted, and hopeful for the role of yoga in our State.

Namaste to all my friends and yoga buddies!