Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts

Thursday, February 16, 2012

How Not to Drown...


"Yoga practice is like an obstacle race; many obstructions are purposely put on the way for us to pass through. They are there to make us understand and express our own capacities.  We all have that strength, but we don't seem to know it." 
- Sri Swami Satchidananda

This morning, facing the blank page, I have to take it to the books.

This morning, in the words of John Patrick Shanley: "I have doubts.  I have such doubts."

Not about you, dear readers.  And not about the progressive march of Spring, and not about the tea in my cup and not about the breath in my body and not about my lovely husband and not about my sweet friends, so many of whom are walking these days into big life changes...but about other things.  Things relating to practice (of all kinds).  Things relating to future and money and art and the big P.: Purpose.

Upon opening this blank page this AM and staring, un-impassioned, into its depths, I could feel only the gnawing of doubt.  Knowing that something had to be done, if I wasn't going to waste the next two hours hemming and hawing and sewing and clawing...I typed "doubt" and "yoga" into the magic 8 ball of Google.

I have doubted my entire life.  When I was younger my doubt expressed itself in dozens of moves, dozens of half-fledged relationships, dozens of days spent agonizing about what I had done and should do and would, from now on, obviously have to do differently.  In my adulthood, my doubt is less destructive.  Nowadays you can find it in my dozens of half-read books, my dozens of half-finished scripts, and the dozens of days spent agonizing about what I have done and should do and will, from now on, obviously do differently.

(So, that part hasn't changed.)

I can now, after being the bedfellow of my own doubt for these many years, watch myself ride the roller coaster of it and it's aftermath with so much more (awful) clarity.  And it looks like this:  choose goal (big or small), progress down path toward goal, feel inspired, talk too much about how inspiring and how close said goal is, get nearly to goal...suddenly realize that goal maybe is not the goal I should be going after, after all...suddenly realize there is DIFFERENT goal which is much more important...kick myself for wasting all of this time on the wrong goal...throw progress toward former goal into the fire of a tearful meldown...and repeat.

There is, of course, a sutra about doubt.

(There is a sutra about everything.)  It is one I'm familiar with...a series of sutras, actually...about the obstacles to practice and their remedy.  These obstacles (of which doubt, samsaya, is one) are the universal distractions, the most common obstacles to the spiritual practice...but I'm going to venture a guess here and say that these are actually the most common obstacles to, um, everything.

"Disease, dullness, doubt, carelessness, laziness, sensuality, false perception, failure to reach firm ground and slipping from the ground gained--these distractions of the mind-stuff are the obstacles."

(Note:  I think "sensuality" in this case, is about the tendency to dive into the more sensory pursuits in the face of all these other distractions.  Sensory like television.  Sensory like another slice of red velvet cake.)

What I love so much about this is the mention of both, "failure to reach firm ground" and "slipping from the ground gained"...I mean, come on!  Seriously, Patanjali...I freaking love you.  Slipping from the ground gained.  Failure to reach that ground in the first place.  Our job, then, is not just to establish a ground underneath our feet, it is to stay there, and to not let all these other things...this doubt, this competition, this fear, this boredom...to not let any of it knock us from the ground once gained.

I came across a really lovely little story (my favorite kind--about a mischievous guru) while doing my internet-ing about doubt.  And it goes like this.  A student was practicing with a guru, studying with him, for many years.  But the student became frustrated and bored and doubtful of the whole experience...what was this thing he was working so hard at, anyhow?  And one day the (mischievous) guru snuck up on the student while he was taking his bath, grabbed the student from behind and held his head under the water until he was nearly drowning.  Just before the student was about to lose consciousness, the guru released his head and he came back to the surface sputtering, gasping for breath.

The guru just looked at the student and said, "you must be desperate for spiritual practice...like you are now desperate for air."

Um.  Yes.

Doubt is like...doubt is like a reality star sunbathing on an air mattress while a swim race is taking place.  Doubt is like wearing sunglasses indoors.  Doubt is a whiny teenager.  Can you imagine being underwater, close to running short of breath and just shrugging your shoulders...taking a few moments to decide whether or not you reeeeeeeeally want to be above the surface?  No.  In the absence of doubt, you do.  You act.  You get yourself to the surface of that water and you suck in some air, dang it.

So, why then, is it so easy to fall off the path?  Why is it so easy to lose that ever loving ground and find yourself, breathless, once again under the waves.

Satchidananda's commentary on this is as awesome as always...he speaks about how we can take comfort in the fact that we are not alone in these distractions, that they are actually a part of the process of growth.  "We seem to need to be challenged and tested," he says, "in order to understand our own capacities.  In fact, that is the natural law.  If a river just flows easily, the water in the river does not express its power.  But once you put an obstacle to the flow by constructing a dam, then you can see its strength in the form of tremendous electrical power.

So, if you are doubting today, or just feel that you have lost sight of the ground, know this:  you are not alone, AND, you do not have to let doubt drag you under.  Fight your way back to the surface, take a big breath, and carry on.  And, yes, I will do that too.


Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Have You Showered Today?



I’m sorry…before I even begin, can I just say GRRRRRRR to my local coffee shop?  What is with this trend in local haunts of covering over all their electric outlets so no one can plug in their computer?  I know, I know, you don’t want people to hog your tables for hours for the measly price of a cup of tea, but I tell you what, as someone who looooooves going to coffee shops to write—if you can provide me with a reasonably warm environment and access to a power supply, I am yours. 

I mean, come on!  Aren’t you interested in winning the love and devotion of Los Angeles’ army of underemployed writers?  Don’t you know that your generosity with electricity will be paid back in full by the not just one maybe two maybe even three coffees or teas that I and my fellow key pluckers will purchase not just today…but every day?  My god, little neighborhood coffee shop, your tables are always half empty…wouldn’t you rather I stayed and drank my fill than that I have to give up and pack up after an hour or two because I’m out of juice?  Well, I know where I’m not wanted, little down-the-road cafĂ©…don’t think I don’t.

Okay, wait, I’m sorry…what am I supposed to be talking about?  Is it…how cute Jay-Z and Beyonce’snewborn baby is??!  Squeeeeee! 

Hmmm.  No, that’s not it.

Is it that lately my practice (such that it is) has consisted of a lot of lay-on-the-floor asana, some hang-over-my-legs asana, a little what-was-that-one-with-the-bolster-again asana?  And that, for shame…I don’t mind a bit?  Is it that? 

I remember once, years ago, having a conversation with a friend of mine about repeated patterns.  “Why,” I asked her, “do I keep making the same mistake, over and over again?”  And she thought for a minute and then said something that I still think of, to this day, all. The. Time.

“Well,” she said, “it’s like taking a shower, I guess.  You don’t take a shower and say okay, that’s it, now I’m clean.  I’m done.  I never have to do that again.  You have to shower every day.  Because dirt builds up.”

This is one of the first things you learn in a yoga practice…in any spiritual practice, really.  And you learn this as an artist.  (As an actor often this is the only thing keeping you going, when nothing I mean nothing else will.)  And that is: just keep coming back.  No matter how many times you screw up in the same old way, get aggravated in the same old way, stop paying attention in the same old way, overreact in the same old way, get disappointed in the same old way…you just have to come back. 

Fwoop!  Swap!  Unroll your mat.

And start again.  Not because you’ve done something wrong—no one feels that their daily need to shower (again) is a sign of their broken-ness.   You just know that you’re living your life.  And the more you live your life the more you sweat and get dirty and so the more necessary it is to get naked, turn on the water, and clean it up.

And what does this have to do with my floor-bound practice?  I think it’s this:  I think that I no longer feel that my yoga practice is something which I have to master in an allotted time frame.  (My god, the number of THINGS in my life that I feel I have to master in an allotted time frame!  Yeesh.)  I know that I will be practicing yoga for the rest of my life. Whether or not I’m teaching.  Whether or not I’m writing about it.  I will be doing this practice until my body stops working and even then, I’ll probably practice with whatever I’ve got left…I’ll do eye-blink yoga like the guy from The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. 

There is no fury and no flurry and no rush. 

If I’m having a day (or a week) where I feel heavy and slow (but sweet) as I do this week…then my practice will come with me.  If all I want to do is master press-up handstand (someday, you will be mine!)…then my practice will come with me.  If I’m feeling good and just wanting to breathe deep…my practice will come with me.  And I don’t have to play catch-up.  Because this practice is not something I just layer on top of my life or jam squarely into the round crevices of my life…it is part and parcel, hand in hand, ankle-to-knee…with me. 

All the best things in life are this way.  (Yes, husband...this means you.)

And it’s true, isn’t it?  All the best things are this way.  Sometimes I think that all we should be looking for in life are those things and those people and those places that we know, reward or no reward, accomplishable goal or not…we will keep coming back to. And then all we have to do is turn on the hot water, strip down, and step in.  Again, and again, and again.