Wednesday 15th February 2006
After pondering all the pros and cons of returning to the shala two mornings a week in a bid to reestablish some kind of a dedicated 4-5 morning Ashtanga practice,
after listing each of the reasons why I wanted to and discovering all the fears I’ve constructed around it,
after getting this all out onto paper so the honest truth would be plain to see,
after obsessively analysing all the reasons for and against, as if that would produce the answer for me, I came across this…
STOP, right where you are.
“This moment, stop right where you are. Stop all effort to get whatever you think will give you fulfillment, whatever you think will give you truth. All that is required is one instant of truly stopping. This one instant is elusive for most people, because as they approach the instant of stopping, an enormous welling of fear usually arises: “If I stop, if I really stop, I will slide back and lose the ground that I have gained through my efforts and practices. Even though I am still not fully satisfied, I am more satisfied than I was. I have a better life, my mind is calmer, my circumstances are better, and I might lose all of that.”
For me, it was quite extraordinary to hear this “stop.” I was certain that he was going to give me some secret knowledge—and he did. But it is only secret because it is so obvious. It is not esoteric. I was certain that he would whisper some magical formula in my ear—and he did. He said, “Stop.” It was so simple that I was thrown to the floor. My thoughts stopped, and in that stopping was more fulfillment than could ever be imagined. What we imagine as fulfillment has to do with less pain, less conflict, more pleasure, more peace, more acknowledgement, more love. But true fulfillment cannot be imagined, it can only be realized.
He told me to throw away every strategy, every technique, every tool, and to just be here and receive what he was offering. It soon sank in: “He really means what he says. He is not teaching me a new mantra, or a new practice, or a new set of beliefs, a liturgy, a catechism, or a cosmology. He is not telling me ‘what it all means’ and ‘what will happen’ and ‘why it came about.’” He was asking me to release all of that from my mind. Not that any of it was wrong. It was just that the hodgepodge of spiritual concepts I had created could never rival unconditional reality.
The problem is that finally, any attempt to go somewhere implies that you are not already there. In fact, any activity you undertake to achieve this is an obstruction to the deepest recognition of what has always been fully realized. In this moment you can realize what does not need to be practiced to exist. This is the easiest, simplest, and most obvious truth. What has kept it a secret throughout the ages is its absolute simplicity and its immediate availability.
This simplicity is difficult, because we are taught from childhood that to achieve something, we have to learn what the steps are and then practice them. This works beautifully for any number of things. The mind is an exquisite learning tool. But self-realization, as well as the deepest inspiration and creativity, come directly from the source of the mind. Realization does not come from any doing; it comes from surrendering the mind to the source.”
“If spiritual practices serve the purpose of stopping the mind, they are strong allies. But if they deepen the belief that you are someone in particular who practices something in particular in order to get something that you do not believe is already here, then they are an obstruction. They keep you spinning around yourself rather than allowing you to deepen into yourself.”
(Extract from 'The Diamond in Your Pocket' by Gangaji)
So I was stopped in my tracks, gobsmacked. I humbly thanked the invisible forces of the universe for this very timely reminder. Although I’ve tasted and dwelled at length in the unconditional silence of just Being, this was like a smack in the face, the realisation that my Ego Self has resurfaced with a vengeance and stealthily led me astray again.
I’ve been veering off in the wrong direction once again believing I’m on a journey Somewhere, believing I am Someone who is on that journey, madly devising a vast array of strategies in my daily life that will help me get There, strategies such as returning to regular morning Ashtanga practice, regular evening meditation practice, regular eating patterns, simplifying my life, reducing my commitments and busyness…and so it goes on and on and on. This Ego Self is an insidious enemy, very clever, very sneaky.
The reminder to just STOP and drop all the strategies, stop all the trying to get anywhere, is an enormous relief every time I come back to it.
There’s absolutely nothing at the end of the fictitious journey. It was with us all the time. It’s here, now.
I plan to go back to Ashtanga next week, and it's no big decision now, no big deal. Now that I’ve recognised all the ego based fears associated with it I can once again return to being a nobody, going nowhere.
This spiritual practice is not about doing and getting somewhere, but of undoing and discovering the exquisite beauty and timeless depth of Now. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday 13th February 2006
Real honest-to-goodness Ashtanga practice has been a hit and miss affair for me over the past few years.
After the initial honeymoon wore off, that period of time when I discovered Ashtanga and threw myself into regular practice, I was able to settle down into a minimum of 3 practices a week, often more. There have been injuries, life changes and periods of more dedicated practice - the last period being late last year, but it didn't last long.
Here I am debating once again if I should return to a dedicated daily practice, if I really need to, and why I even want to.
Looking objectively at the situation, I’m in a great position now to practice more regularly. I no longer live with my son so I don’t have to come home from work at night and cook for anyone; my boyfriend is away for at least a few months so I have more free time at night and on the weekends to just chill out if I need to. There’s really no excuse.
Because I’m obsessing over this decision again, I have to get all the thoughts and feelings around it out of my fuzzy head and into an orderly form to see the picture more clearly.
The reasons that deter me from returning to the shala I'll list here because they have one obvious thing in common:
- Fear of overcommitting myself to a physical yoga practice that my body can’t cope with - Fear of injury from strong adjustments
- Fear of injury from being overflexible due to the heated conditions - Fear of not being able to live up to my initial commitment to the practice
- Fear that rising at 5am 5 days a week for a full on physical daily practice may tire me out and affect my teaching performance on Saturdays
- Fear of that demoralising guilt feeling I experience when I get up at 5am and decide I don’t’ want to go. (because I don’t particularly enjoy facing up to my human weaknesses)
- Fear that I’ll be overemphasising the asana part of yoga practice which is not the point of yoga practice at all
- Fear of coming unstuck and destabilised
Yep, it’s all fear. ________________________________________________________________________________________________
Friday 3rd February 2006
Ardha Chandrasana
Only 2 of us in Darrin’s led class this morning. A subtle unspoken intimacy pervades the studio in these pre-dawn yoga sessions as we elegantly move in and out of poses, silently bonded together by our dedication to a practise that has shaped and changed our bodies and lives.
We did a few Sun Salutes, then a standing pose sequence including Vashisthasana, coming into most of the poses from Dog pose, and Ardha Chandrasana three times on each side. Some poses like Urdhva Dhanurasana get better with each repetition, some don’t; my Ardha Chandrasana started out strong and balanced, but got weaker by the third rep as my strength faded. The star like shape of this beautifully disorientating pose makes me feel strangely armless and legless, these odd appendages radiating outwards in all directions don’t seem to belong to me. I try to focus on drawing up mulabandha to get the internal support and orientation from my core – when that comes, the balance just happens.
But holding Ardha Chandrasana past the recommended use by date (which is about 5 long breaths for me) spins me out a bit and then I tend to lose the focus on my core. My internal compass starts to swing wildly around looking for North, the balance and focus that came early begin to drain rapidly away. My body begins to tire and the will to stay is all that keeps me up there.
Backbend focus today: Salabhasana, Bhujangasana, Ustrasana. The dropbacks from Ustrasana sadly I can no longer do. I gave it a test run today but as I lifted my arms up and back from the prayer position I felt my hips and lumbar seize up in fear around last year’s injury. Then the entire lower back area just went weak as if someone cut off the prana supply – there was no support from the lower back area at all. I moved to the wall and tried reaching back from Ustrasana, hands to the wall, but halfway down the wall again hit the dead resistance in my ilio-sacral area. I stayed there, hands halfway down the wall, stayed calm, stayed centred, tried engaging more bandhas and lifting up through the hips, pressing them up and forward, but I just couldn’t maintain the lift.
There’s lots and lots to work with here if I want to rebuild and heal my back.
Eka Pada Raja Kapotasana 1 and 2, Hanumanasana, some passive counter poses then a long Halasana over the chair, finishing with Janu Sirsasana and Paschimottanasana (both with head to a bolster).
I love doing this kind of asana practice once a week, but I feel a familiar longing to return to the rigour of a consistent Ashtanga practice. Maintaining a regular, committed practice at the shala is not easy for me. I’ve strayed away from the hard-core practice in favour of one that’s on my own terms – no teacher, no adjustments, no pushing past my limits except on those rare days when all three key ingredients: energy, flexibility and courage, are high.
But every now and then I get a snort of courage that reignites the little flame in my belly. I think about being one of “them” again – one of those mythical Ashtangi creatures that haunt the sacred shalas all over the world in that magical hour before sunrise. ___________________________________________________________________________________________
Tuesday 31st January 2006
Still here, but the motivation to write about my inner life has been in its waning phase. Trying to make sense of life and yoga practice through writing about it ebbs back and forth on some kind of current
Because there’s just over a week to go before my boyfriend moves interstate for 10 months, we’ve been getting in a lot of quality time together, as if building up a big fat bank account of togetherness before the separation. It may or may not see us through the 10 months of his absence.
Because of this, I’ve allowed the relationship and late nights to take priority over my morning practise for these last few weeks, knowing that the change is imminent. There’s always a trade off somewhere: when he leaves, my heart will sway back a little more to its spiritual source. I can feel it coming already…more time to practice, less distraction.
Utkatasana
Practice this morning was mediocre OK. Strong Ujjiyi breath from beginning to end, which might be in danger of becoming just a bit too loud, too powerful. Some days I’m resembling a guided missile, locked onto target. Utkatasana is the pose of the moment for me. As it comes into view, I try to temper the sense of anticipation. Then it arrives. Breath by breath I deepen the squat, the arms come forward, I take them back, bit by bit. Keep adjusting the tailbone towards the heels. Keep lifting and opening the armpits up and back, softening the back shoulders down. Each adjustment deeper into the squat, I have to adjust the arms back and the tail down. It’s like a little ritual. But I’ve discovered the close relationship between Utkatasana and the following pose in the sequence, Virabhadrasana A. Don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before: the arms are raised in both poses, the pelvis naturally wants to tip forward but must be guided back to decompress the lumbar, there’s sense of deepening down towards the ground with the lower body and a lift up out of the pelvis with the upper body. And both poses ask us to lift and open up our hearts courageously to face the vast unknown. __________________________________________________________________________________________________
After pondering all the pros and cons of returning to the shala two mornings a week in a bid to reestablish some kind of a dedicated 4-5 morning Ashtanga practice,
after listing each of the reasons why I wanted to and discovering all the fears I’ve constructed around it,
after getting this all out onto paper so the honest truth would be plain to see,
after obsessively analysing all the reasons for and against, as if that would produce the answer for me, I came across this…
STOP, right where you are.
“This moment, stop right where you are. Stop all effort to get whatever you think will give you fulfillment, whatever you think will give you truth. All that is required is one instant of truly stopping. This one instant is elusive for most people, because as they approach the instant of stopping, an enormous welling of fear usually arises: “If I stop, if I really stop, I will slide back and lose the ground that I have gained through my efforts and practices. Even though I am still not fully satisfied, I am more satisfied than I was. I have a better life, my mind is calmer, my circumstances are better, and I might lose all of that.”
For me, it was quite extraordinary to hear this “stop.” I was certain that he was going to give me some secret knowledge—and he did. But it is only secret because it is so obvious. It is not esoteric. I was certain that he would whisper some magical formula in my ear—and he did. He said, “Stop.” It was so simple that I was thrown to the floor. My thoughts stopped, and in that stopping was more fulfillment than could ever be imagined. What we imagine as fulfillment has to do with less pain, less conflict, more pleasure, more peace, more acknowledgement, more love. But true fulfillment cannot be imagined, it can only be realized.
He told me to throw away every strategy, every technique, every tool, and to just be here and receive what he was offering. It soon sank in: “He really means what he says. He is not teaching me a new mantra, or a new practice, or a new set of beliefs, a liturgy, a catechism, or a cosmology. He is not telling me ‘what it all means’ and ‘what will happen’ and ‘why it came about.’” He was asking me to release all of that from my mind. Not that any of it was wrong. It was just that the hodgepodge of spiritual concepts I had created could never rival unconditional reality.
The problem is that finally, any attempt to go somewhere implies that you are not already there. In fact, any activity you undertake to achieve this is an obstruction to the deepest recognition of what has always been fully realized. In this moment you can realize what does not need to be practiced to exist. This is the easiest, simplest, and most obvious truth. What has kept it a secret throughout the ages is its absolute simplicity and its immediate availability.
This simplicity is difficult, because we are taught from childhood that to achieve something, we have to learn what the steps are and then practice them. This works beautifully for any number of things. The mind is an exquisite learning tool. But self-realization, as well as the deepest inspiration and creativity, come directly from the source of the mind. Realization does not come from any doing; it comes from surrendering the mind to the source.”
“If spiritual practices serve the purpose of stopping the mind, they are strong allies. But if they deepen the belief that you are someone in particular who practices something in particular in order to get something that you do not believe is already here, then they are an obstruction. They keep you spinning around yourself rather than allowing you to deepen into yourself.”
(Extract from 'The Diamond in Your Pocket' by Gangaji)
So I was stopped in my tracks, gobsmacked. I humbly thanked the invisible forces of the universe for this very timely reminder. Although I’ve tasted and dwelled at length in the unconditional silence of just Being, this was like a smack in the face, the realisation that my Ego Self has resurfaced with a vengeance and stealthily led me astray again.
I’ve been veering off in the wrong direction once again believing I’m on a journey Somewhere, believing I am Someone who is on that journey, madly devising a vast array of strategies in my daily life that will help me get There, strategies such as returning to regular morning Ashtanga practice, regular evening meditation practice, regular eating patterns, simplifying my life, reducing my commitments and busyness…and so it goes on and on and on. This Ego Self is an insidious enemy, very clever, very sneaky.
The reminder to just STOP and drop all the strategies, stop all the trying to get anywhere, is an enormous relief every time I come back to it.
There’s absolutely nothing at the end of the fictitious journey. It was with us all the time. It’s here, now.
I plan to go back to Ashtanga next week, and it's no big decision now, no big deal. Now that I’ve recognised all the ego based fears associated with it I can once again return to being a nobody, going nowhere.
This spiritual practice is not about doing and getting somewhere, but of undoing and discovering the exquisite beauty and timeless depth of Now. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Monday 13th February 2006
Real honest-to-goodness Ashtanga practice has been a hit and miss affair for me over the past few years.
After the initial honeymoon wore off, that period of time when I discovered Ashtanga and threw myself into regular practice, I was able to settle down into a minimum of 3 practices a week, often more. There have been injuries, life changes and periods of more dedicated practice - the last period being late last year, but it didn't last long.
Here I am debating once again if I should return to a dedicated daily practice, if I really need to, and why I even want to.
Looking objectively at the situation, I’m in a great position now to practice more regularly. I no longer live with my son so I don’t have to come home from work at night and cook for anyone; my boyfriend is away for at least a few months so I have more free time at night and on the weekends to just chill out if I need to. There’s really no excuse.
Because I’m obsessing over this decision again, I have to get all the thoughts and feelings around it out of my fuzzy head and into an orderly form to see the picture more clearly.
The reasons that deter me from returning to the shala I'll list here because they have one obvious thing in common:
- Fear of overcommitting myself to a physical yoga practice that my body can’t cope with - Fear of injury from strong adjustments
- Fear of injury from being overflexible due to the heated conditions - Fear of not being able to live up to my initial commitment to the practice
- Fear that rising at 5am 5 days a week for a full on physical daily practice may tire me out and affect my teaching performance on Saturdays
- Fear of that demoralising guilt feeling I experience when I get up at 5am and decide I don’t’ want to go. (because I don’t particularly enjoy facing up to my human weaknesses)
- Fear that I’ll be overemphasising the asana part of yoga practice which is not the point of yoga practice at all
- Fear of coming unstuck and destabilised
Yep, it’s all fear. ________________________________________________________________________________________________
Friday 3rd February 2006
Ardha Chandrasana
Only 2 of us in Darrin’s led class this morning. A subtle unspoken intimacy pervades the studio in these pre-dawn yoga sessions as we elegantly move in and out of poses, silently bonded together by our dedication to a practise that has shaped and changed our bodies and lives.
We did a few Sun Salutes, then a standing pose sequence including Vashisthasana, coming into most of the poses from Dog pose, and Ardha Chandrasana three times on each side. Some poses like Urdhva Dhanurasana get better with each repetition, some don’t; my Ardha Chandrasana started out strong and balanced, but got weaker by the third rep as my strength faded. The star like shape of this beautifully disorientating pose makes me feel strangely armless and legless, these odd appendages radiating outwards in all directions don’t seem to belong to me. I try to focus on drawing up mulabandha to get the internal support and orientation from my core – when that comes, the balance just happens.
But holding Ardha Chandrasana past the recommended use by date (which is about 5 long breaths for me) spins me out a bit and then I tend to lose the focus on my core. My internal compass starts to swing wildly around looking for North, the balance and focus that came early begin to drain rapidly away. My body begins to tire and the will to stay is all that keeps me up there.
Backbend focus today: Salabhasana, Bhujangasana, Ustrasana. The dropbacks from Ustrasana sadly I can no longer do. I gave it a test run today but as I lifted my arms up and back from the prayer position I felt my hips and lumbar seize up in fear around last year’s injury. Then the entire lower back area just went weak as if someone cut off the prana supply – there was no support from the lower back area at all. I moved to the wall and tried reaching back from Ustrasana, hands to the wall, but halfway down the wall again hit the dead resistance in my ilio-sacral area. I stayed there, hands halfway down the wall, stayed calm, stayed centred, tried engaging more bandhas and lifting up through the hips, pressing them up and forward, but I just couldn’t maintain the lift.
There’s lots and lots to work with here if I want to rebuild and heal my back.
Eka Pada Raja Kapotasana 1 and 2, Hanumanasana, some passive counter poses then a long Halasana over the chair, finishing with Janu Sirsasana and Paschimottanasana (both with head to a bolster).
I love doing this kind of asana practice once a week, but I feel a familiar longing to return to the rigour of a consistent Ashtanga practice. Maintaining a regular, committed practice at the shala is not easy for me. I’ve strayed away from the hard-core practice in favour of one that’s on my own terms – no teacher, no adjustments, no pushing past my limits except on those rare days when all three key ingredients: energy, flexibility and courage, are high.
But every now and then I get a snort of courage that reignites the little flame in my belly. I think about being one of “them” again – one of those mythical Ashtangi creatures that haunt the sacred shalas all over the world in that magical hour before sunrise. ___________________________________________________________________________________________
Tuesday 31st January 2006
Still here, but the motivation to write about my inner life has been in its waning phase. Trying to make sense of life and yoga practice through writing about it ebbs back and forth on some kind of current
Because there’s just over a week to go before my boyfriend moves interstate for 10 months, we’ve been getting in a lot of quality time together, as if building up a big fat bank account of togetherness before the separation. It may or may not see us through the 10 months of his absence.
Because of this, I’ve allowed the relationship and late nights to take priority over my morning practise for these last few weeks, knowing that the change is imminent. There’s always a trade off somewhere: when he leaves, my heart will sway back a little more to its spiritual source. I can feel it coming already…more time to practice, less distraction.
Utkatasana
Practice this morning was mediocre OK. Strong Ujjiyi breath from beginning to end, which might be in danger of becoming just a bit too loud, too powerful. Some days I’m resembling a guided missile, locked onto target. Utkatasana is the pose of the moment for me. As it comes into view, I try to temper the sense of anticipation. Then it arrives. Breath by breath I deepen the squat, the arms come forward, I take them back, bit by bit. Keep adjusting the tailbone towards the heels. Keep lifting and opening the armpits up and back, softening the back shoulders down. Each adjustment deeper into the squat, I have to adjust the arms back and the tail down. It’s like a little ritual. But I’ve discovered the close relationship between Utkatasana and the following pose in the sequence, Virabhadrasana A. Don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before: the arms are raised in both poses, the pelvis naturally wants to tip forward but must be guided back to decompress the lumbar, there’s sense of deepening down towards the ground with the lower body and a lift up out of the pelvis with the upper body. And both poses ask us to lift and open up our hearts courageously to face the vast unknown. __________________________________________________________________________________________________
