Stealing from Yourself – Redux

This is a post from one year ago (September 2009).  Since we are having week in teacher training, now seemed like a good time to run it again!

During class this morning, Erik, the instructor, focused our attention on the yama of Asteya.  Asteya is the principle of non-stealing.  Now, there are obvious implications to this form of self-restraint.  We should not steal others’ belongings; we should not steal others’ ideas; we should not take more than we need.  But, my thoughts went to the less obvious forms of stealing that we engage in and should avoid.  We should not steal attention or admiration due to jealousy.  We should not steal the self-esteem of others by belittling or degrading them.  We should not steal the good name of others through libel or slander.  And, we should not steal from ourselves.

What do we steal from ourselves?  Well, I know that, in my case, sometimes I steal from myself the opportunity to change or grow.  W.E.B. Du Bois is quoted as saying:

The most important thing to remember is this: To be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become.

But, do most of us do this?  I suspect we do not.  When we are very little, and the world of opportunity seems open before us, we allow ourselves to change and grow with every moment.  As we get older, we start to learn the expectations that others have of us (based on factors like gender, socioeconomic status, race, ethnicity, family role, etc.) and begin to let those expectations box us into a narrow range of possibility.

Over time, having learned to believe that our possibilities are limited, we begin to stop even trying anything new.  But, once we do this, we fall into a rut of being, where the self cannot grow.  Growth requires change, and risk taking. This stealing of opportunity and growth from ourselves may sometimes be about relatively minor things – we refuse to try new food, because we already “know” that we won’t like it – or major life choices – we don’t apply for a job that we desire, because we are certain that we will not be hired.  We may not acknowledge to ourselves why we aren’t taking these risks, and come up with excuses for remaining the same (“I don’t have time to take that art class,”  “yoga classes are too expensive,” “I don’t have enough patience to get a degree”), but often the underlying reason is a fear of failure, because we have learned to box ourselves and our opportunities in, and believe that we cannot succeed outside of that box.

Image from yogaguru.info

After my yoga practice today, I reflected that I often steal from myself the opportunity to grow in my practice by assuming that I cannot succeed at a particular pose.  This was true of wheel pose when I first began yoga.  I wouldn’t even try it, because it seemed impossible.  Now, having prodded myself into taking the risk, I still feel remnants of the “I can’t” belief every time the pose comes up in class.    More recently, I struggled with forcing myself to give inversions a try.  I practiced yoga for a few years before I ever tried to get into handstand or headstand, even with the help of a wall.  While I’m still working on those poses, and still feel some degree of fear about them, I also have learned that I love inversions.  If I had continued to steal that opportunity from myself, I never would have realized this.  Now I need to work on arm balance… I have a tendency to immediately go mentally to a “I’m not strong enough” place when arm balance poses appear in the practice.  But, I know that I have to give myself this opportunity or I’ll never know what may happen, so I’m working on pushing those negative and constraining thoughts away.

What opportunities do you steal from yourself by assuming you cannot succeed?

Are You a Yoga Skeptic?

Science Lab

Image by Curious Expeditions

In my non-yoga related field of study, most participants fall pretty neatly into one of two camps.  They are either social scientists or they are humanist/interpretivists (some would say that critical approaches represent a third, but that’s an argument for another day).  Early in my academic life, I spent some time on social scientific work, even getting to coauthor a few publications from that perspective.  I pretty quickly decided that approach/world view just was not for me.  It wasn’t that I didn’t think it has things to say; it does.  It wasn’t that I didn’t see the utility or logic in such an approach; I did.  It just felt incomplete to me to study living beings totally at the level of science.  I felt like I was missing something crucial that could only be fully examined through looking at the diversity of individual experience rather than the ascertaining the common patterns.  So, all that to say that I don’t usually self-identify as a scientist and am often most drawn to non-scientific research when it comes to understanding the human experience.

Now and then, however, my inner scientist pokes her head around the corner and says, “Um, excuse me, but do you have some proof of that?”  I had this experience this week reading about Prana and yoga philosophy.  My inner scientist (or skeptic, you might say), does not much rebel at the idea of a universal connection or that we are all one.  Apparently, there is enough evidence for those to keep her quiet – or it’s a leap of faith she is willing to make.  The concept that breath is the root of everything in the body, that works for the science skeptic.  After all, without breath there is no life, so it seems somehow perfectly reasonable to go there.

This week in class we read and discussed prana, the nadis, chakras and so on, and the inner skeptic scientist ran right into the center of my brain and made her presence known.  Had the reading started first with prana and nadis, as we did in class, I think that might have happened more slowly.  Even the skeptic is ok with the idea that there is a life force in the body that cannot be reduced to the breath, or the nervous system, or the cardiovascular system.  It’s something else.  And with that accepted, the general notion of nadis also works – if there is an energy, then the idea of energy pathways is reasonable enough for the skeptic.  But, when I started reading for this week, I began with a chapter from Jivamukti Yoga by Sharon Gannon and David Life.  The first paragraph begins with a description of Kundalini (consciousness) coiled as a snake at the base of the spine, reading to ascend to cosmic consciousness through  the sushamna nadi (central energy channel).  Yeah, um, what?  My inner scientist skeptic started immediately getting antsy.  I think there may have been some pacing.  From there it headed into nadis and chakras and vayus and granthis and I think that my inner scientist may have begun holding her head and moaning slightly.  “Wait!  Where is the evidence?  How do you know there is a central channel with two channels wrapped around it?  Snake, what?  REALLY?  Chakras and granthis that cannot be seen?  Uh huh.”

It’s not that I can’t believe in something unseen (see me speaking of this part of self that I’m calling the inner scientist/skeptic?) but known though experience.  I think it’s that when I start thinking about the physical body and then combining that with talking about the metaphysical in ways that I have not really experienced, then somehow that part of what is “I” wants some evidence.  I want to see it or see that someone has.  I want to read some test results.  I guess I want proof.  Interesting from a humanist/interpretivist!

I don’t think this will be a stopper for me in these studies.  I just have to find a spot from which I can think about these ideas and examine their utility for being (after all, as I tell my students, the accuracy of your memories is not important at all – what is important is what they are doing for/to you today).  I just need to find a way to be with this knowledge that doesn’t make my inner scientist squeamish.  And, I think I can.   My nervousness about accepting as “fact” (or even more as dogma) what I have no experience of (including scientific ) has a lot to do with how uncomfortable I am with accepting religion, but when I embraced Buddhism as a philosophy built on experiential examination of being, it was all good and I became comfortable enough to say that I embrace Buddhist thought – in the understanding that Buddha said we shouldn’t accept this way of thinking about being as the absolute – we should always question and bring in what we have experienced.  So, this will be a part of my ongoing project in yoga.  How about you?  Do you have an inner scientist/skeptic and how does this impact your yoga practice?

I must say, people who think yoga is just “fuzzy stretching” are awfully confused ; )

Namaste,

L

Oh, Yogi! Who’s Zoomin’ Who?

In teacher training yesterday we considered the second of the Yamas (restraints), which is Satya – truth or non-lying.  Our conversation of Satya was quite interesting and I could think of many examples where I am not fully truthful (as I think we all can).  Often, for me, being untruthful occurs in an attempt to protect my face (the image I want to present to the world) or the face of others – more on that later.  So, I woke up today in the right frame of mind to think about Satya as I went through my day.

Image by CrystalGinger

Having gotten the kids up and off to school, I quickly hit a road block.  I have been having a flare-up of rheumatoid arthritis this week, because of a combination of a change in weather, hormonal shifts, and being off of two medications that I normally take.  The result is that my joints are very sore and feel simultaneously really tight and really loose (in a bad way).  The pain associated with this also causes nausea, compounded by a lovely little sinus issue, and I haven’t been eating much either.  So, the upshot is that I’m not feeling so hot.

The decision before me today was whether or not to attend a 9:30 Vinyasa class.  As I went through the rest of my morning leading up to the time when I really had to get ready, I was thinking about teacher training class the night before.  So, when time came to make a choice, I found myself in an interesting conundrum.  On the one hand, I could go to class – but then was I lying to myself about whether this was right for me and overdoing in a way that could be bad?  On the other hand, I could stay home and rest a bit before work – but then was I lying to myself about what I was capable of and not stretching my boundaries in the way needed for growth?  Hmm…  I went back and forth and back and forth and finally, as time got late, just put on my yoga outfit and headed out.  Great!

I would love to now tell you that this was absolutely the right decision and that the class helped me feel better.  But, I cannot tell a lie (ha!).  By 10 minutes in, I knew that this wasn’t working out.  I got through, spending a good amount of time in Child’s Pose or Adho Mukha Svanasana.  That’s ok, but even then, I was somewhere in between crying and yarking the entire class.  It just was so not pretty.  I couldn’t really concentrate on the poses because I was so busy concentrating on not physically falling apart.  And, as you might guess, there was no calm to be found.

So, great.  I made a choice in an effort to not lie, but it turned out that it wasn’t that simple.  How was I to know what choice to make?  I’m still not sure about that, but in reflecting on the whole situation, I am pretty sure that this all came down to an issue of Asmita (egoism or an attachment to a particular “self”).   I reduced the options I had to two in my mind (stay or go – might there have been another? – I think so) and then attempted to make sense of them through this lens of Asmita.  It kind of ended up as a question of:  Should I stay home, which signifies my being “honest” about my physical state, and therefore a good yogi?  Should I go, which signifies my willingness to work hard at this practice, and therefore be a good yogi?  If I stay home, does that mean I’m lazy and a bad yogi?  If I go, does that mean I’m not hearing my body and a bad yogi?

Yikes!  No matter how you slice it, I am pretty sure I was being overly interested in this image of myself (for myself or for others) as a good yogi.  That’s not very good yogi of me…  This craziness is made all the more crazy by the fact that I knew on one level that I was in danger of practicing because of need for a particular self-image.  But, I hadn’t parsed it out enough to see that there was a whole other level of the same Klesa going on there.  Oh, this is such a process, eh?  Learned patterns of behavior or thinking are so hard to unlearn.  But, that doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying.

Namaste,

L