Choosing the direction we will take

Lunar New Year celebration

Happy Lunar New Year! February 1st marks the beginning of the Year of the Tiger. I have such fond memories of the extraordinary New Year celebrations when I lived in Shanghai: spectacular fireworks rang out at midnight around the city as far as the eye could see; on New Year’s Day there were lion dances and parades, delicious smells wafting from every kitchen I passed. Lunar New Year celebrations last for 15 days, culminating in the Lantern Festival on the first full moon of the New Year. Thinking back to those days makes me smile and brings a lightness to my heart that I’ve not felt in a while.

If there’s one thing I know to be true about myself, it’s that I love to travel and explore. I long to immerse myself in new places and cultures. Exploring somewhere new makes my spirit soar, it makes my soul sing.

Last year presented me with a number of challenges. The last time I shared my musings with you, I wrote about some unexpected health problems, and these remain my constant companion. In the past, I could always rely on travel to boost my spirits, to lift whatever weight I’d been carrying physically, mentally, and emotionally. While I gratefully received rejuvenation from some camping and a cottage sojourn, there remained a heaviness I simply couldn’t shake. I know I’m far from alone in this feeling: throughout the pandemic, a mental health crisis has been growing, and it’s shown us how vitally important it is to take care of ourselves, to prioritise our health and wellbeing if we hope to be of any use to our loved ones, and to the world around us.

Sometimes the way forward is to expand and grow, and sometimes what we really need is to retreat inside our shells to rest and regroup.  My heart told me to choose the latter path. For much of the last year, I’ve focused my attention on my small community of dedicated students, offering nourishing practices and weekly writings that resonated with my own journey and experience. As we welcome this New Year, I thought I’d share some of these musings from the last few months.

On gratitude:

“Taking time throughout the day to pause and reflect on the blessings in your life serves as a powerful reminder that, no matter what trouble might be brewing, we are indeed blessed.  Even on those days when challenges are many and blessings seem few, we can give thanks simply for waking up when so many others around the world did not. That’s not to say that gratitude asks us to forget about our pain and suffering; however, it can help us temper that suffering with goodness, with joy, with kindness and love.”

On the importance of self-care:

“Rest should be a topic of great importance at any time, but I think the stress and uncertainty of the last 2 years has brought it screaming to the forefront as part of the larger discussion of mental health and self-care.  For too long we’ve written off our self-care needs as indulgence and luxury.  We couldn’t be further from the truth. I see the effects of stress and strain in those I love; I see their burnout clear as day. I feel it in myself too and I know that the only way I can provide the support my loved ones need is if I take care of my own health and wellbeing.  It’s as simple as that – simple, yes, but not always easy… just like our journey with yoga and mindfulness.”

On our need to be ‘productive’:

“Productivity is something that’s often on our minds, whether consciously or unconsciously. As human beings, we’ve been conditioned to believe that we must always be doing something, and that our doing must be leading us towards a goal or achievement. For me, an example that comes to mind is the internal chatter that occurs when I’m feeling under the weather: I have to convince myself to rest, I have to talk myself into slowing down and setting aside the to-do list, and I try to catch myself each time that negative little voice inside says, ‘don’t stop now, push through, it’s not that bad, you should get more done.

Why is rest not seen as productive? Why is sitting on my back step watching the sunrise not productive? Why is answering an email tomorrow so I can go for a walk in the sunshine today not productive? Much as we try to fight it, we are mortal beings who live a finite amount of time. We have no idea when the end will come, but when it does, I suspect most of us will still have a few things left on our to-do lists. So how can we learn to accept that fact and enjoy the time we have while we have it?”

On finding contentment:

“…a teaching I recently enjoyed from Frank Ostaseski [is to] welcome everything, push away nothing.  Welcome everything, push away nothing.  Like many mindfulness teachings, it sounds so simple, yet I think we can all agree that it’s anything but easy. It’s human nature to gravitate towards what feels good and recoil from what doesn’t. We seek out pleasure and avoid pain and suffering at all costs. In asana practice, we can easily settle into a pose that feels good and familiar, but what about the poses that challenge us, that feel uncomfortable, that bring us to our edge physically, mentally, or emotionally? How do we find the same sense of ease and contentment in those poses? Welcome everything, push away nothing.” 

On World Kindness Day:

“When someone shows us kindness, we feel our spirits lift, and we’re much more inclined to share that feeling with others we encounter. Someone returns an item that fell out of your pocket and you’re surprised, grateful, happy; in that moment you become fully present and aware of the kindness another has shown you. That warm feeling inside comes from a little shot of serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins – the body’s natural mood boosters – and it stays with you as you continue on your way, perhaps opening a door for someone or helping them carry a heavy package to their car. As you pass the kindness on, the warm feeling in you continues because sharing kindness is as good for us as receiving it.  Start today with a little act of kindness towards yourself and see how it makes you feel. Then as you move through the day and encounter others, share a smile, offer a compliment, hold open a door, buy someone a coffee. As Aesop wrote: ‘No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted’.”

On how we choose to move through the world:

“We learn myriad lessons on the mat. New insights appear each time we arrive, each time we pay attention, each time we open our awareness and allow the lessons to penetrate the layers of bias and expectation and resistance we’ve built up over time. As human beings it is our nature to form opinions, to make judgments, to set goals. Yet our practice teaches us over and over again that everything changes, nothing remains as it is, no two breaths or sensations or moments in time are the same. Each time we exhale, we expect that an inhale will follow – but are we guaranteed that next inhale? Are we guaranteed the next moment in time…or only this one?

…a favourite quote, one I’ve shared with you many times over the years: ‘Happiness is not given to us, nor is misery imposed. At every moment we are at a crossroads and must choose the direction we will take.’ ~Matthieu Ricard

While so much in life is beyond our control, we can choose how we respond to what arises. We can choose to be open-minded and curious; we can choose to be angry and sullen; we can choose to accept and learn from challenges; we can choose to resist and shout at the rain. It’s all a matter of perspective and how we choose to navigate the changing world around us.”

~~~

Maybe a few of my words resonate with you, reflecting some of your own experiences of the past year. How are you choosing to move through the world? Is this a time when it feels good to expand and grow, or is your heart asking you to slow down, to rest, to stop some of the doing and allow yourself to simply be?

Last week the world lost one of its shining lights, the wise and beautiful soul of Thich Nhat Hanh. Often called the father of mindfulness, his book Peace is Every Step was my first introduction to this practice, my first step on a lifelong journey exploring his teachings of compassion and love for all beings. With a new year upon us, I leave you with these wise words from Thich Nhat Hanh:

“Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully each moment, and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.”

Pulling weeds & planting flowers

Spring blossoms

There is a Sufi story I have shared in class several times over the years, its author unknown. It’s called Mullah Nasrin and the Dandelions, and it goes like this:

One day a man named Mullah Nasrin decided to take up gardening. He loved flowers and vegetables and he became an adept gardener. But when his garden became plagued with dandelions, Mullah became more and more upset. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He travelled to the palace of the king and consulted the king’s own personal gardener. The royal gardener gave Mullah instructions on how to get rid of the dandelions. Mullah returned home full of enthusiasm and followed the instructions perfectly. But still the dandelions returned. Really angry now, Mullah returned to the king’s palace and found the royal gardener. “You’re a fraud!” he hollered. “Your remedy was no better than the rest! What else can I do about these dandelions?” The royal gardener looked thoughtful and stroked his chin. Finally he said softly, “Mullah Nasrin, there’s only one thing to do. You must learn to love dandelions.

In mindfulness practice, we are constant gardeners, tending the landscapes of mind, body and spirit. Yoga teaches us the merits of self-study, Svadhyaya, deepening our awareness to reveal the nature of our true Self. When we take the time to observe things like physical, mental and emotional patterns in daily life, we might notice habits, biases, judgments, or assumptions that are shaped by past experience but no longer reflect who we are in this moment. Once we become aware of these old patterns that no longer serve us, we can choose to release them – to pull these weeds from our garden and make space for new plants to flourish.

Neuropsychologist and meditation teacher Rick Hanson speaks often of our ability to change the way our minds work by attending to our thoughts and experiences (check out his fascinating book, Buddha’s Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love & Wisdom). As human beings, we have a negativity bias that is built into us as a survival mechanism. We learn from our past experiences, and those that caused us physical or emotional harm influence the way we perceive and respond to similar situations in the future. To balance this negativity bias and give positivity a chance to take root, Dr. Hanson advises us to take the time to fully embrace positive experiences, allowing them to be absorbed into our awareness to create a lasting effect over time. In an excellent TEDx talk several years ago, he offered a simple exercise to illustrate this practice: recall a positive experience (e.g., the love of a friend/partner/child/pet), sit with that experience for a short time to enhance its effects (e.g., the warm glow you feel inside as you think about the person), and let those effects be absorbed by the mind and body. The more we allow ourselves to fully experience positive thoughts and emotions, the less room there is in our mental chatter for negativity and distress.

Now, what about Mullah Nasrin and his dandelions? Dr. Hanson might say that Mullah could call upon the warm glow he feels when he looks at his beautiful garden and try to associate that same warm feeling with the dandelions. When negativity arises, this technique does not ask us to push it away or deny it; rather, we infuse the negative with positive, we use the positive experience as an antidote to help release us from the suffering caused by the negative one. This could be an effective tool for addressing difficult or traumatic experiences from the past that are creating unhealthy or unhelpful patterns in our thoughts and actions today.

On the other hand, yoga has another teaching that Mullah Nasrin might find helpful: Santosha. Through the practice of Santosha we find contentment and acceptance, embracing whatever arises in our experience. Struggling against the reality of our experience can only lead to suffering – so instead let’s swim with the tide, let’s welcome each moment, each thought, each emotion and sensation as if we had invited it. Open your heart and your mind. Be curious. Explore. Take the time to notice the blessings and simple pleasures in your life and let the joy they bring you fill your vessel to overflowing. Maybe the joy will displace some deeply rooted weeds in your garden, making space for beautiful new flowers to grow. Or maybe, you’ll simply learn to love your dandelions.

The student’s journey

Yogacharya B.K.S. Iyengar

During seventy-three years of teaching and practising, I have observed that some students pay attention only to the physical aspect of yoga. Their practice is like a fast-flowing stream, tumbling and falling, which lacks depth and direction. By attending to the mental and spiritual side, a sincere student of yoga becomes like a smoothly flowing river which helps to irrigate and fertilize the land around it. Just as one cannot dip into the same river twice, so each and every asana refreshes your life force with new energy.

~BKS Iyengar, in Yoga: The Path to Holistic Health


I recently had the good fortune to attend a screening of a documentary entitled Iyengar: The Man, Yoga, and The Student’s Journey. Filmed before his passing in 2014, its release last year honoured the 100th anniversary of his birth. The film was inspiring on so many levels, and though it provided less insight into Mr. Iyengar’s early years than I had hoped for, it more than made up for it through stories of the profound effects his teachings have had on so many lives. I was particularly pleased to see Father Joe Pereira featured with his Kripa Foundation work that brings the healing benefits of Iyengar yoga to those suffering from addiction and HIV/AIDS (you may recall an earlier post I wrote about Father Joe and what an extraordinary experience it is to study with him). For me, some of the most memorable scenes in the film involve Mr. Iyengar’s granddaughter, Abhijata. We see her practicing asana intensely, with strict guidance and adjustments from her grandfather and other teachers, and she tells us, “It appears my grandfather teaches me asanas, but if I had to sum it up now, he is teaching me how to search for meaning in anything I do. He is teaching me huge concepts.” This is the true essence of yoga.

Most often we come to yoga through asana, the postures, and we arrive on our mat expecting a purely physical practice. However, if we are paying attention, we realise that the postures are merely a gateway, leading to a vast expanse of knowledge and exploration and connection. We begin a journey that lasts a lifetime, slowly peeling back the layers to reveal our innermost self, to attain what Mr. Iyengar called true alignment: “Yoga helps to integrate the mental and physical plane, bringing about a sense of inner and outer balance, or what I term alignment. True alignment means that the inner mind reaches every cell and fibre of the body.” This journey towards true alignment begins on our mat, but it does not remain there – the lessons we learn in each and every practice, through each and every asana, begin to colour and shape how we view and interact with the world around us.

Mr. Iyengar defined yoga as “the union of the individual self with the universal self.” His teachings embodied the eight-limbed path set out in the Yoga Sutra by the sage Patanjali: Yama (ethical behaviour), Niyama (restraint/discipline), Asana (posture), Pranayama (expansion of vital energy, the breath), Pratyahara (detachment of the senses), Dharana (focused attention), Dhyana (prolonged concentration, meditation), Samadhi (“when the knower, the knowable, and the known become one”). Deep exploration of this eight-limbed path takes a lifetime (or many lifetimes), but I believe that we can be forever changed even by taking the first step on this path: by embracing the first Yama, Ahimsa. Ahimsa translates as non-violence – toward ourselves, others, the world around us, non-violence in our thoughts, words and deeds. To me, an equally apt definition of Ahimsa would be compassion. When we practice yoga, we learn to be compassionate toward ourselves, and as we direct compassion inward, we begin to radiate it outward to all those we encounter. As Abhijata said, yoga is teaching us huge concepts – we need only open and awaken to these lessons and let them unite us with something greater than our individual self.

If you have the opportunity to see this documentary, I highly recommend it. In the meantime, I share with you the trailer for a glimpse of the film’s wisdom and insight.


Iyengar: The Man, Yoga & The Student’s Journey

Mary Oliver, 1935-2019

The first time I heard a poem by Mary Oliver was during Savasana in a yoga class in San Francisco. I was immediately enamoured and sought out her works to explore them further. Her words inspired me, spoke to me in places hidden deep within. Her reverence and abiding love for the natural world mirrored the supreme peace and calm that arose in me when surrounded by forest, mountains, ocean, stream. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words and that can most certainly be true, but so too can a few choice words touch our hearts and give rise to a thousand cherished images within.

On January 17th, 2019, the world lost a much beloved literary voice. At the age of 83, Mary Oliver had enchanted us with her poetry and prose for more than 50 years. As a small gesture of respect and gratitude for all that she has given us, I dedicated my class on Friday to her memory and shared several works with my students – some had heard of her, some had not, and all left with new warmth in their hearts. As Mary said in her poem Mysteries, Yes, “…people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem.”

To choose a single favourite from among her poems would be like choosing a favourite star in the sky. Instead, I take inspiration from last night’s full moon, the Wolf moon, and share with you Mary’s poem of the same name.

Wolf Moon ~ Mary Oliver

Now is the season
of hungry mice,
cold rabbits,
lean owls
hunkering with their lamp-eyes
in the leafless lanes
in the needled dark;
now is the season
when the kittle fox
comes to town
in the blue valley
of early morning;
now is the season
of iron rivers,
bloody crossings,
flaring winds,
birds frozen
in their tents of weeds,
their music spent
and blown like smoke
to the stone of the sky;
now is the season
of the hunter Death;
with his belt of knives,
his black snowshoes,
he means to cleanse
the earth of fat;
his grey shadows
are out and running - under
the moon, the pines,
down snow-filled trails they carry
the red whips of their music,
their footfalls quick as hammers,
from cabin to cabin,
from bed to bed,
from dreamer to dreamer.