the practice of living

The man on the sidewalk with the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee

said to the girl on the bench with the ocean in her eyes

“Let me tell you a story. 

I was lost and now I’m found.

Behind every cloud is a silver lining.

If you love something, set it free and if it’s yours it will come back.

Trust in the universe.

Ask and you shall receive.

When one door closes, a window opens.

There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

The practices of living has been whittled down to these small strings of words.

The modern Yoga Sutras.

We recite them when we think they will help.  

We tell them to people we love or to complete strangers.

We tell them to ourselves over and over.

We paint them on decorative plaques and hang them above our toilets.

We hope that they are true. 

How nice it would be if every dark cloud was simply covering a beautiful blue sky.

If letting go of those we love actually changed their path to lead them back to us.

If asking was all we really needed to do. 

But,

The practices of living are not simple. 

Living is complex and terrifying.

We try to practice it with every breath and every step.

We recite these strings of words so that we can make some sense 

of a practice we very much do not understand.

We are human creatures.

We want to “do” and not “be”.

We need action to make things real.

We need words to make things clear.

We need the man on the sidewalk with the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee to remind us that we are human,

And we need the girl on the bench with the ocean in her eyes to remind us that we are more.

We are more than all of those words.

They are just sounds strung together 

piled one on top of the other 

and decided to have meaning.

When we can finally see that these words are empty

When we can finally see beyond their intention

When we no longer need the man on the sidewalk with the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee to remind us that we are human

When we no longer need to girl on the bench with the ocean in her eyes to remind us that we are more,

That is when we can finally begin the practice of living.

acf

8.29.11

not very convenient

Pema Chodron, a beloved Buddhist nun, devotes an entire chapter in her book The Wisdom of No Escape to inconvenience. “When you hear some teachings that ring true to you, and you feel some trust in practicing that way and some trust in it’s being a worthwhile way to live, then you’re in for a lot of inconvenience.” She tells this story about a Buddhist monk's travels out of Tibet when Communist China invaded: 

A great group of Tibetans, maybe 300, left eastern Tibet with their guides. When they got to central Tibet, the guides didn’t know the way any longer, because they knew only eastern Tibet. Furthermore, the snow was so deep that it was up to their armpits, so the biggest monks went in front, prostrating their whole bodies in the snow and then getting up and prostrating again to make a path. At times they would go all the way up mountains, only to find that they had made a mistake and would have to come all the way back down.They didn’t have much food, and not only that, had they been discovered, they would have been shot by the Chinese. At one point they had to go through a river, and their clothes froze on them. If they tried to sit down, their robes cut their skin because the ice was so sharp. Not very convenient. 

I am a sucker for convenience. I go to the grocer right off the train, even though their produce always go bad in a day or two. I drop off my laundry so I don’t have to waste 3 hours in the laundromat. I go to ATM’s from other banks, despite charges, because I don't want to walk the extra blocks to my bank. I watch bad television on Netflix because I can stream it instantly. Life is full of things to do and convenience makes it all the more bearable. 

When I started understanding the spiritual side of yoga, everything changed. And Pema is right, nothing about spiritual exploration and commitment is convenient. And nothing about yoga asana is convenient. It’s not convenient to bind, or focus on ujjayi breath, or the bandhas. It’s definitely not convenient to work 10 hours every day and then go move my body in a sweaty yoga class for an hour and a half. It’s not convenient to always think about how my meals will affect my practice or worry about karma and rebirth in every action or thought I’m involved in, every moment of every day. Not very convenient. 

But it’s worth it. I never look for convenience in my asana practice. I work hard and expect my teachers to expect me to work hard; I want to work hard. I bind, I breathe, I engage the bandhas as best I can. I leave my job and, somehow, despite exhaustion, eventually find myself happy to be on my mat. I consider asana in my meal (and drink)  choices and I let my worries about karma and rebirth inform my every action. 

I do it because Tibetans fled for their spiritual freedom. I do it because monks prostrated in the snow for the freedom of their people. I do it because they trusted that they would one day find refuge in India and, on that day, the inconvenience and suffering would be worth it. 

she's a giver

My niece is 15 months old. She's been walking for about one month and says just a few words, mostly daddy. She understands many words and ideas- where's the duck. Show mommy. Come walk with me. No. By 15 months she has come this far- walking talking listening thinking and giving.

I am amazed that at such an early age the joy of sharing arrives. She picks up a leaf in the yard and brings it to someone. Always with a smile and an extended hand. She sees her favorite book, goes to it, picks it up and brings it to someone. She eats delicious food and extends her next bite to you.

So unique to humans, I think, is this quality of sharing, of offering what we love to those around us. Is it evidence that humans have an innate desire to connect with other humans? She wants others to share in her joy and pleasure. And doing so gives her joy and pleasure. We all say thank you and clap and get all silly because she has done this and she laughs and smiles and looks proud as can be about what she has done. And she keeps doing it. Over and over until we have laps full of crunchy leaves, books about ladybugs, and pieces of sticky cheese.

I wonder what will happen to this generosity. When she gets older will we stop celebrating and clapping for her and simply thank her? Will that be enough to nurture generosity? Will she be disappointed one day when no one cheers at her offering, leaving her a little less joyous and a little less willing?

I want her to live in a world where everyone cheers for generosity. Where the act of offering is celebrated as the true gift. I want her to find joy in giving. I want her to continue to see crunchy leaves and pieces of cheese as beautiful and meaningful gifts.

If that means I need to clap and get silly whenever she gives me something, I'll do it. I might be that crazy aunt who embarrasses her at the school play, but if she can grow up to offer others pieces of her life with a generous smile, it'll be worth it.

for my teachers

tell me to jump
and i won't ask
how high
because whatever happens naturally
will be exactly perfect for you

lift and lower
rise and fall
smile and weep
petals blown
soft and easy
scattering without regard
settling exactly perfect for you

you say and i do
i'll do whatever you say
to be exactly perfect for you