I spent the weekend in Atlanta, Georgia at The Yoga Collective with Gina Minyard and her awesome community there. I have known Gina for many years now and as always, being with her is both inspiring and thought-provoking. Gina, having recently completed a three-week meditation intensive and training with her teacher, Paul Meuller-Ortega, was full of potent clarity and passion for practice and the process of awakening. Once again, I was reminded— as I so often am in both my life and my teaching work— of the potency of practice and the value of being established in the tools and techniques of the inner life.
Somewhere over the last few years, I have become less interested in whether what I am up to is actually yoga or not. In fact, the less I call it yoga, the more relaxed about my journey I am, the happier I feel, and the more expanded my sense of who I am becomes. Of course, along with this expansion lives a narrowing of my interest and a sense of honest recognition about what is for me and what is not for me. One thing that is not for me is defending whether or not what I am up to is yoga. I am more interested in whether or not my efforts are bearing fruit.
For years I thought the fruit my efforts would bear would be described in glowing terms like “transformation” and “evolution” and I would have a testimony of radical life changes and triumphs over my limitations.
Some of that happened. Plenty, in fact, truth be told.
And, of course, since I said I was telling the truth, some things haven’t changed.
And. while I I am being honest here, it’s beginning to look like some things about me are here to stay.
In a recent conversation with a friend of mine on the path, I was listening to her testimony of her radical change and growth. I noticed I felt a bit tired. Don’t get me wrong— I was happy for her that she felt the freedoms that she was describing and attributing to her practice. I mean, really, I am into it. For me. For her. For the world.
But somewhere along the way, (in the midst of my mid-life crisis/passage, I suppose), I got interested in another facet of my experience: How was I living alongside those things within me that —like it or not— have not changed?
I am not talking here about life-threatening addictions and abusive patterns of behavior and so forth that, well, we do need to go to work on for the safety of ourselves and others. I am talking here about the ten-thousand neurotic tendencies that annoy, distract and rob joy in ways too numerous to name. I am talking here about the things that I hold against myself and use to keep self-love continually out of reach, turning my own regard into something I have to earn with the unrealistic price tag of perfectionist standards I will never meet.
This growing interest in living with what has not changed does not make a very enticing workshop description on a brochure, nor would it have been of any interest to me when I got started working on myself all those years ago. I wanted change.
Well, truth be told, I needed change, if I was going to live. That sounds dramatic, but I am quite serious. I had some life-threatening behaviors that needed to stop. Believe me, I know how important shifting some patterns can be. But I have stopped thinking that there is some kind of salvation on the other side of all the things wrong with me, be those things perceived or actual, judged by me or by others.
Instead, I think there is a salvation to be found within those things I hold against myself. The salvation of which I am speaking is compassion. I am not talking about the surface-level compassion I grant myself that has within it the subtle, and often unconscious, promise that “one day I will change.” I am talking about the compassion that is only possible when I can be with my own suffering— even if that suffering is my impatience, jealousy, frustration, anxiety, anger, shame and sadness— with no promise or reassurance that “one day I will overcome.”
And, of course, the ironic thing is that the salvation of my own regard and tenderness, of my own self-compassion, often creates a shift. This shift is not always the shift of my outer behavior, but is most certainly a re-direction of my attention toward Love. That re-direction of attention toward Love is the fruit of practice to which I was referring earlier. Call it what you will, this re-direction toward Love is where my primary interest lies.
Postural practice helps redirect me, although its not as though every time I roll out my mat I am subsumed in self-love. Usually, asana practice is an achey, awkward foray into the stiff nooks and crannies of my body, mind, and emotions that somehow seems to yield an overall movement toward something quite sweet within me.
Meditation practice helps me, but let’s not be confused— sitting with oneself, regardless of method, is not always relaxing, blissful or easy. The direct encounter with the machinations of one’s mind is often uncomfortable and difficult, and while the overall effect may be a re-direction toward Love, the process isn’t always smooth or enjoyable.
I could go and on and on about the tools and techniques of the inner life that I find useful and many of them probably qualify, at least loosely, as yoga. But really, if I called these tools something else, they would still work. And the fact that they work gives me tremendous strength and faith in the face of the rest of it these days. The rest of it— from politics to family life to industry issues and everything that lives in the unique circumstances of our lives— create plenty of things for us to deal with and to practice in the face of.
And while everywhere I go yoga teachers report that they are working harder than ever for less money, and while students everywhere report that the costs of participating in classes and trainings are more prohibitive than ever, and the while blogs and forums abound with both valid critiques as well as with what I see as incomplete understandings made into problems, I feel fortunate to have found my way to teachers, teachings and practices that continue to help me deepen my understanding of who I am and re-direct my attention toward Love.
My wish for all of us is that we find that re-direction toward Love in and through whatever movement practice we do, whatever meditation style we engage, in the quiet moments of tending to our breath, in the active moments of our day, in solitude, as well as in our families, friendships, and communities. And, I hope that for those folks whose practice feels stuck, stalled, wrong or incomplete, who feel hurt, betrayed, and/or are suffering in their relationship to the teachings and to their teachers, that compassion can rise in the midst of their difficulty and bear the fruit of the movement toward Love.
"Attention matters deeply. Turn your attention to the highest, to what is best, most important, most crucial. What is fundamentally powerful for the growth of your life in a positive way? Turn your attention to your own intelligence, toward your own compassion, love and creativity."
- Paul Muller-Ortega
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"There is a light that shines beyond all things on Earth, beyond us all, beyond the heaven, beyond the highest, the very highest heavens. This is the light that shines in our heart."