Meditations and inspirations

Giving and receiving compassion

One of the first meditation techniques I learned was tonglen, a buddhist practice of giving and receiving compassion. One of my favorite buddhist teachers, Pema Chodron, describes tonglen this way:

The tonglen practice is a method for connecting with suffering —ours and that which is all around us— everywhere we go. It is a method for overcoming fear of suffering and for dissolving the tightness of our heart. Primarily it is a method for awakening the compassion that is inherent in all of us, no matter how cruel or cold we might seem to be.

This traditional practice involves breathing in suffering and breathing out compassion. As you inhale, you imagine that you are inhaling suffering — it can be your own suffering, the suffering of someone you know, or the suffering of the world. You take it in and then exhale imagining compassion and well-being emanating from your breath, the suffering having been transformed.

In his book,  Just One Thing, Rick Hanson explains that practicing compassion helps strengthen those neural pathways, making them more accessible and automatic when you need them. Moreover, practicing receiving compassion primes you to give it, and vice versa.

This week’s video meditation plays with Hanson’s prescription for practicing compassion. Do it for yourself. Give it a try!

Two women to support this month!

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Janelle Renee Matous is the exclusive photographer for all my yoga portraits. I trust her completely to make me look beautiful and strong. Janelle is moving to San Antonio this month! Tell her I referred you and get a 10% discount. She is wonderful!

 

 

 

il_fullxfull.648347380_9630Kori Jones is the brilliant yogini and artist behind Irok Gems. Kori specializes in restorative yoga and has applied her gifts to the military veterans and to the widowed spouses through the American Widow Project. I own four of her pieces, two malas and two bracelets. I love wearing them and knowing I am supporting her.

 

Practice Makes… Progress!

Practice copyLast month I introduced a feature called “Practice,” in which I will share with you video documentation of my own practice on a particular pose. For July, I chose Urdva Danurasana, or full wheel pose. I used to do backbends a lot more than I do now. Somewhere along the way they started hurting my shoulder, so I have sort of avoided them. But I miss the exhilaration of a big heart-opening backbend. Backbends make your heart beat and give you an adrenaline rush. So as I worked on this pose, I focused on the shoulders. My goal was to strengthen the top part of the back bend, get the arm bones plugged into the shoulder sockets so they are protected and then open the upper back so that my arms would be vertical in the “final” posture. When you can get your shoulders aligned straight up over your hands, and your knees aligned over your feet, you are ready to try to stand up! After a month of practice, I did it! Many thanks to MBS Yoga for allowing me to use their beautiful space!

The ants said, get to work!

Pay Attention antWhen I was in Guatemala on retreat, every morning on my way to get coffee in the dining room I saw this tiny hole (it’s about the size of a quarter) surrounded by bits and pieces of leaves. As people started moving around, the leaves would be scattered or swept away. I never saw the leaves going into the hole or being pushed out or arranged outside it, but it happened every day I was there. One afternoon, I saw a little ant carrying a piece of leaf in the direction of the hole. He had a long way to go. And I wondered how many of them there were. I only ever saw that one.

Also on this trip I was lucky to have the opportunity to consult with a Mayan healer. While we were talking, an ant crawled on my hand. I moved my hand so the ant would crawl off and back onto the table. The healer told me that when an ant comes to visit, it is telling you to get to work!

In context of all I’m doing right now, and all I’m thinking about, it made sense to me! I’m glad I noticed the little ants making their welcome mat around the hole. It made the healer’s message more poignant.

What did you pay attention to this month?

Retreating from retreat

10313834_10203096016694712_1216715549779948183_nLast month, the phenomenal writer Sherman Alexie published a memoir, You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, about his life with and complicated grief over the loss of his mother. I heard him interviewed on Morning Edition on my way to teach 6 am yoga (I almost couldn’t get out of the car), then later on Fresh Air. His voice trembled and he broke tears both times. His struggle to make sense of her death felt so familiar. Yesterday, he published a letter explaining that he had to take a break from the book tour because he was reliving the pain of her loss night after night after night, in public.

He closes his letter with this:

So here I am—the son and the mother combined—who needs to take a big step back and do most of my grieving in private. My memoir is still out there for you to read. And, when I am strong enough, I will return to the road. I will return to the memoir. And I know I will have new stories to tell about my mother and her ghost. I will have more stories to tell about grief. And about forgiveness.

The son and the mother combined.

I have been working on my own memoir, the story of losing my mother. It’s interesting to me that Alexie feels he has finally internalized her now that she’s gone. For me, the grieving has been a process of separation, of extracting myself, my dreams, my desires from the confusing slush that was our complicated, entwined, life before… taking the me out of the us that I knew of as “me.”

Writing a memoir, especially about grieving, is a hard process of exploring the myths and realities of your own life, and sometimes re-categorizing them. You learn things about what you thought was true that move those experiences to the myth category. And you learn the deeper truth underneath the stories you used to tell. It’s an exercise in resistance, too… overcoming the resistance to face those things. For the past few months, I have not overcome that resistance. But things keep cycling back around… such as birthdays, mine and then hers.

So, this week while I’m on retreat, I shall return to my book. Dig back into the muck that was us, and see what kind of shiny me I can find in there.

Namaste: divine recognition

About two weeks ago, my significant other captured a tiny, mostly feral kitten and brought it home to me. The little gray boy has a very sweet disposition, but he has absolutely no interest in me, or people in general. I can pet him and pick him up, but he doesn’t cuddle or even really look directly at me. When I approach, I watch his eyes and see not a hint of recognition. I’m just a big grabbing blob to him.

On the other hand, he bonded immediately with my big boy, Chucky. Even before I got the all clear to let him out of the kennel with the other animals, he and Chucky were nuzzling through the wires of the cage. Little boy recognized something in Chucky, recognized his own kind. And for the last two weeks, I have had the pleasure to watch them cuddle and play constantly.

When we say “Namaste” at the end of class, we are offering a similar kind of recognition to each other. Saying “Namaste” is an acknowledgment of our shared divinity, by which I mean the sweet core of sentience and possibility and vulnerability and perfect imperfection that we all share underneath the layers of socialization and cultural and psychological experiences that make us unique. And we honor that, too. We honor the whole package.

This is one thing that makes the experience of a yoga class different from other forms of exercise. It’s not magic. It’s not religion. However, the asana practice does provide access to this kind of awareness, an essence of shared experience that the mystical traditions of every major religion seek out and celebrate. Now, if that’s not something you want to dwell on, that’s ok, too. Your yoga class is exercise that makes you feel good. It’s that feeling that matters. Yoga is a tool for accessing the full potential of the human body, which includes the hormones that create the physical sensations of calm, excitement, and joy. The asana practice is simply an entry point to an experience of wholeness that we all seek.

Pay attention!

Pay Attention copyMy mom used to command me: Pay Attention! She meant, don’t take anything for granted. I invite you to “Pay Attention” with me. Share your pictures or thoughts about things you notice in the comments!

Here’s something I saw a few weeks ago walking around Woodlawn Lake. The day was dull and gray and I almost missed seeing this gorgeous water lily. I’m so glad I paid attention.

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Practice makes progress

Practice copyMost yoga classes aim to offer a variety of poses—standing poses, seated poses, balancing poses, twists, backbends, arm balances, inversions… A “full spectrum” class will provide you the opportunity to bend in many directions and use different muscles all over your body. So, it’s hard sometimes to see how your body is being changed. You might not revisit the same pose in a class for weeks!

In this video series, I will share with you time-lapse videos of me practicing a specific pose for one month. Hopefully it’ll be fun and we’ll see how practice makes progress.

 

Adapt your inner landscape

Bartolome Island in the Galapagos Archipelago is pretty new — only about 1.5-million years old. Not much grows there yet. But these little colorless plants have found a foothold on the hardened lava. Somehow the seeds found their way to this tiny rock in the middle of the ocean. It may not be perfect, but they will adapt! And as they cling to all there is there, and live and die and decay, they will provide the seeds and soil for new life to thrive.

Our own inner landscapes provide much more fertile ground for all kinds of things to grow. In Buddhism, Thich Nhat Hanh teaches mindfulness with the metaphor of planting seeds for the things you want to grow. We can choose to plant and nourish seeds of compassion, kindness, and gratitude. Or, we can choose to plant and feed jealousy, shame, or greed. Or maybe just plain ole bad habits.

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 In our meditation this week, we will work on cultivating some new seeds. The meditation is adapted from the book, Just One Thing, by Rick Hanson, PhD. Using the latest research on experience-dependent neuroplasticity, Hanson describes practices for “using the mind to change the brain.” Research increasingly shows that our brains—the actual connections between neurons that constitute what we think, how we react and how we feel—are shaped by our lived experiences. And, as it turns out, what we think counts as part of our lived experience. Hanson’s exercises provide opportunities to practice new ways of thinking, to reshape your brain, and provide newly fertile ground for the kind of life you want to live.

In yoga, we say “where the mind goes, prana flows.” Let’s give it a try together!