Letting Go of Me

I’ve spent 45 years cultivating my “self.” I’ve developed pretty strong understandings of my characteristics and beliefs. I’ve established standards for my own behavior and defined what is and is not acceptable for me.

And yet, as a student/researcher of communication, I’ve long believed that the “self” is a socially created construct, which arises from our interactions with others. I’ve thought that standards of behavior, my own or someone else’s, are arbitrary and developed through culture.

More recently, as a yoga student, I’ve refined my notion that the attachment to the story of self (asmita) must be released in our process of becoming more connected with that which is universal. It makes sense to me that the emphasis on the me, the I, is counter-productive in cultivating union.

But… isn’t there always a but? But, it’s hard. It’s hard to let go of “me.” And I look around and see many other yogis having the very same problem. It’s hard not to attach to the stories you have built over time that explain the self. It’s hard not to feel and attach to a sense of personal accomplishment about what you can do (even in a yoga class, which has it’s own irony) or guilt/shame about what you cannot.

It all becomes more tricky, because there is an infinite regress of places where the “me” can pop up. Let’s say that you get comfortable with letting go of attachment to your sense of personal accomplishment regarding asana. Then the next level is to let go of the sense of accomplishment over having let go of the sense of accomplishment. Ouch. And it just goes on from there.

We also live in a world that will require you to create stories of you (what is a resume, after all), and will certainly create stories about you. That doesn’t mean you have to attach to the stories, but it does mean that you likely have to participate in them, and commit to enacting them, which makes it harder not to attach to them.

To some degree, the development of an understanding and set of beliefs about self is part of our humanity. Some scholars would say that the ability to abstractly understand and evaluate the self in relation to others and the world is what makes us human. Letting that go completely may not be possible, or desirable.

Maybe a more reasonable goal is to cultivate awareness of when the story of me is cropping up in a way that prevents us from seeing our unity with that beyond, keeps us from opening up to other possibilities, stands between us and our ability to truly experience the present, and blocks us from being able to understand and empathize with the reality that others are living.

Namaste,

L

Not Giving it My “All”

This summer, I had some MRI testing done for an issue related to tremors.  It was a little scary at the time, but the final diagnosis wasn’t too traumatic.  However, the tests did reveal a hemangioma and 3 disc bulges (one neck and two lower back) on the spine.  Being a well-behaved yoga student, I discussed the results with my primary instructor, Beth, and she made some recommendations for my practice.  First, she suggested that I hold off on headstand for a while, and limit shoulder stand (using blankets and staying up for shorter times).  Second, she asked me to try to avoid a lot of stressing of the lower back by rounding, instead working on greater length in that area.  She made specific suggestions for that including bending knees more in forward folds, really working on the belly to spine during asana, and (the most DAH DAH DUUUUUUUM! for me) using plank pose instead of caturanga during vinyasa.

My first reaction was something like “Ok, bend knees, got it.  No catur – WHAT?”  For me, caturanga is one of those poses that I do and feel like I am super strong.  The idea of not doing it at all during a practice was not happy-making.  But, I really respect and trust this teacher, and her reasoning made absolute sense, so I thought I should try it. The first class, it was hard to remember, and I felt conspicuous and a little aggravated.  But, my back did feel somewhat better afterward, and my belly felt more engaged.

The next week, my chiropractor also suggested maybe no plow, careful with any shoulderstand, and care with deep side twists (particularly where legs are uneven) watching for any pain and stopping if so.  So, I had another list of things to consider.

Since then, I’ve been bending knees for every fold, planking every caturanga, and limiting inversions to pinca myurasana, handstand, and legs up the wall.  And, over the  course of a few classes, I’ve gotten much more ok with it.  Yes, I know that I could push and go into those folds without bending.  I know I could barrel through a bunch of caturangas.  I know that I could do headstand for a few minutes, even if it wasn’t so comfortable.  But, I’m not.  And that’s ok.  I certainly would never want my students to hurt themselves for the sake of a pose, so I need to be able to get my ego out of my way for my own well-being.

Caturanga will be there when and if it is appropriate to get back to it.  Where do you hold back in your asana practice for the good of your physical body?

Namaste,

L

Oh, My Little Toe – Pratyahara and Dhyana as Yoga

Pratyahara is the fifth of the eight limbs of yoga. It can be translated as withdrawal or control of the senses. When we engage the practice of pratyahara, we bring our focus from the world outside – the sights and sounds and smells around us – to that which is inside. Dhyana is the sixth limb; it is concentration, or the focusing of the mind on a single point.

We’ve all had experiences of engaging pratyahara and dhyana without consciously thinking about what we were doing. A great example can be found in memories of bath time as a child. If you were like me, there were times that you laid back in the bath, closing your eyes and submerging everything but your nose into the water. With eyes closed and ears filled with the warm water, sounds become muted and there is nothing to see. The water, at near body temperature and covering you all over reduces sensation of touch. With the nose resting just above the water and occupied only with breathing, smell recedes into the background. In this quiet cave of water, you could focus on one idea or one sensation easily. I loved doing this as a child. It made me feel so easy, happy, peaceful, and rested. I would probably do it now if I had a bigger bath and less cranky joints!

As adults, maybe you have fewer times when this happens naturally. The call of things outside is strong. There are phones ringing and emails binging. Every environment is full of visual stimulation. We feel a near constant pressure to respond to the individuals around us (even virtually around). The past and the future encroach upon the now with the memories of what has occurred (and assessments of each event) and the plans for future happenings. But, we can still engage these practices.

Withdrawal of the senses can be partly accomplished through manipulation of physical surroundings: turning off the phone and computer, finding a quiet place to be, using ear plug and/or an eye mask. This might then allow us the space to engage that single point of concentration. Or, sometimes, we can do both together, by focusing our mind on very simple things, such as a comfortable body part.

Rarely do most of us think about the parts of the body that feel comfortable. We know intimately the parts that hurt. We can describe pain clearly and with a multitude of fine degrees of difference. But, when a particular body part is just comfortable, just at ease, we tend to ignore it. We then miss the feeling of comfort and ease, and we deny ourselves a chance to calmly focus on a sensation that isn’t arousing, but calming.

Baby Toes

Image from Sabianmaggy on Flickr

In a recent class, I asked students sitting in guided meditation to think about a body part that was comfortable. As we sat with no shoes on, I suggested the little toe on the left foot (or the earlobe on the right ear). I asked my students to try to direct their minds to that toe, seeing what the body was feeling there. Later, when we were processing the meditation, everyone agreed that this way of focusing on a single, comfortable body part had helped them to draw in and to focus their minds.

So, perhaps the next time that you find your mind a whirl and feel that sensation of being drawn in a 1000 directions at once by the things in your environment calling to you, sit down and think about your little toe. Who knows where it might lead you…

Namaste,
L

Free