New Website, Blog & Facebook

Greetings! There has been a major overhaul on all my communications recently. This blog will be taken down soon and taking it's place is a new blog, facebook account and website! Be sure to check it all out!

New Website:

www.satiyogini.com

Facebook:

www.facebook.com/satiyoga

New Blog

www.satiyogini.blogspot.com

A New Creation

After a bit of a blogging break, I'm happy to announce the launch of my new company that I've co-founded with Matthew Colaciello, Vasudhaiva Tours and Retreats. We will be leading tours and retreats with other scholars and yogis around the world, though most of our work will be based in India and Nepal. Visit the website to learn more about us and our upcoming adventures! Please note that our website is best viewed in safari or firefox browsers.

Blessings

Taking A Quantum Leap Over A Divided House And Finding Home

Picture by Johnny Alamillo. Oct 2010

For several months, I could feel this essay swelling up in me. Germinating. Nesting. Fermenting. And now, the story has unfolded. The meaning clarified. The words revealed, as the image of a morning landscape gives way to a lifting fog…

THE GLIMPSE AND THE DIVIDE

In the Zen Buddhist tradition, there is a word assigned to the experience of having a sudden glimpse of pure awareness or enlightenment. This glimpse is called, satori. Thereafter, it takes up residence in one’s memory as a jewel of recognition and a lamp that illuminates the path of practice as the student passes through the delusional web of the mind and the distracting phenomena of daily life. Satori fans the flame of one’s spiritual practice to return to that place once again. In short, the glimpse becomes an ever-present call of home.

When I was 13 years old, while attempting to meditate for the first time in my life (first time was the charm in my case) I had a glimpse of a field of awareness that I was not so much witnessing but embodying, that forever provided me with a direct recognition of the truth of my identity (or non-identity) well outside the limits of this contained body/mind construction I usually associate with. That moment provided me with a profound validation of spirit that no barrage of crazy mind waves since, could ever take from me. That moment would remain a most scared experience of direct knowledge. I had others follow every couple of years, and like satori, these quick, otherworldly visits to my elemental nature, fueled and refueled my spiritual inquiry. I had been home and I knew it.

After every visitation ended, “I” came back; that is to say, an individual sense of identity, enveloped in a fleshy frame, wandering about this dimension continuing to work out my karma. And while doing so I began to discern that while I knew I had an absolute home, I also had versions of home in this relative realm as well. Specific encounters would touch me with such a profundity, it felt like I was dwelling in my birthright; energetically, emotionally, kinesthetically, intellectually and so on. Even though these experiences were temporal and literal expressions, they nourished a passion to be in life itself, even as I sought the journey of transcending it. I started to see specific phenomena taking on the same role as a religious symbol by evoking focus, love, surrender and a reminder of wisdom. I cherished them as living deities that could wake my heart up and break me out of delusion.

Sometimes these earthly manifestations of home appeared as a place and sometimes as a person, and sometimes both simultaneously. Sometimes I touched it. Talked to it. Kissed it. Looked at a photo of it. Dreamed about it. Told others I wanted to be there, in it, with it, doing it. And occasionally, fell out of this dimension and experienced that I WAS IT. Home would come as a profound recognition, like a lightning bolt entering my being and once it struck, it pushed the pause button on my usual state of perception and my destructive thought patterns went on vacation. A portal in me opened up for a brief period lasting anywhere from seconds to days to months, depending on the circumstance. In through this portal came love. Gushing in so much I started to feel my spirit swell. My heart rejoiced. This is home. This is home. This recognition was not so much a giddy explosion as much as a melting into a blissful tranquility. I am reminded of the words of Dilgo Kheyntse Rinpoche, “Whatever circumstances arise, do not plunge into either elation or misery, but stay free and comfortable, in unshakable serenity.” Yes, unshakable serenity.

As satori-like glimpses, they provided a memory of wonder and thereby an impetus to continue to work hard on facing my self-defeating beliefs and habits. To stop wanting and start having. Stop wishing to become and actually be and embody. But like all spiritual rookies, the path home is often shrouded in obstructions and the unknown variables that discern a student from a master. Depending on one’s individual karma, it may take intellectual prowess, relationships, travel, death, creative work and perhaps even marriages, divorces and children as part of that process. Nonetheless, the memory of that lucid realization of what, where and with who you can be never, ever, leaves.

I recently watched a documentary about the composer, Phillip Glass. In it, he likened to writing music as getting really quiet to hear a river that runs underneath the earth’s surface. The music is always there and it can be ignored, but if one just listens, one can hear it. Often the quality of the musical score is determined by the quality of listening. Is not the quality of our life determined by our ability to listen to the subterranean call of home? The experience of knowing where home is, but not being there, is what has made me feel like a divided house. Even in my moments of total rebellion, I always sense that I have a choice to live in exile to my deepest call or not. The division is one between surviving and thriving, liking and loving, bland and beautiful, good enough and great, between using 10% of my ability and a hell of a lot more. Now more then ever, I find that my tolerance level for living in this state of division waning. I’d grown tired of my old excuses and all my coulda, woulda, shouldas. I've never quoted a politician in anything I’ve ever written, but the words of Abraham Lincoln echo the sentiment of what it often feels like when the ego is trying to catch up to the wisdom of the heart: "A house divided against itself cannot stand." Thank You Mr. Lincoln.

For those who exemplify this way of being, I like to call them: But People. These are people whose sentence structure looks a bit like this: “I would love to do this but...and I would really move here but…and I should have always done this but…again and again and again. It’s like they graduated high school and immediately entered into But People Academy. The mission statement is: The place to learn how to successfully rationalize why you cannot and should not ever do what your heart is telling you do to. If such a place existed in physical reality I imagine it would go bankrupt, but many people seem to have enrolled in such a place within themselves and have gone spiritually bankrupt.

Recently, I came to terms with the fact that I myself, had been a card carrying member of the But People Academy. And on one formidable account, I was ready to bridge the divide. What follows is a summary of a leap, from one version of myself to another; over one particular divide to one particular home.

A LEAP HOME

This October marks one year of my living and teaching in Orlando, Florida. When I told the owner of the yoga studio that I work for, that I would commit to a year of teaching and see how things unfolded, I wasn’t aware that I had officially set the timeline for one of the most pivotal internal revolutions of my life. In retrospect, it’s clear that I came here to end one major chapter of my life and prepare to begin another. Orlando was neutral territory for me. I had no history here, few friends and little to distract me. Therefore, I spent a lot of time alone in my one-bedroom apartment, turning it into a purification retreat in which to meditate, cry, shout, write, daydream, wrestle with my demons and dance with my hopes.

As I started to head into my 30’s last year, I became more and more consumed with a thirst to know where I wanted to build a home and plant some roots long-term. I wanted to travel and study extensively, but I also knew, I wanted a place to land that would anchor me in all the wondrous ways an actual physical location can. I yearned for a place to call home; a city, a culture, an energy that correlated with my own. A place that surprised me and delighted me and was an exuberant display of what I valued. Every day of the 10 years I’ve lived in Florida, I knew this place was not it. This knowledge always prevented me from committing to any long-term ventures. Over the years, I traveled and considered many other locations that would have been a much better fit with my character, but I never made the leap.

Then last summer on my visit to Nepal, I got a glimpse of my dream home nestled in the valleys below the Himalayan peaks. Nepal was like a shock wave and a healing elixir all at once. It was a chaos and a calm I intrinsically understood and I imagine, very close to the kind I would find in India, the one place I’d been passionately wanting to study and live in for sometime. Kathmandu became my city of love and yet, I STILL came back to Florida. Instead, I committed myself to living in Florida for at least another year, to teach and help build a new Ashtanga Yoga community. I threw myself into all the daily to-dos of a typical life but would secretly rebel against them just as quick. I was signing contracts that I really wanted to tear up. Driving a car and talking on a cell phone I no longer wanted and sought refuge from a landscape of rampant commercialism whenever possible. I had lost my taste for this American life. I gave myself a few good-natured pep talks but they all seemingly failed. Finally, I got real with myself: why was I doing this? I could not suppress these yearnings any longer. The glimpse of home was in my memory, grinding down my wall of fear everyday. Everything in my being was telling me to get my ass back on a plane and head east for something wholly different. I had been home and I knew it.

I initially told myself I would try to live six months in the U.S. and six months in Asia and why that may not be out of the question in the future, when I investigated that line of thinking more closely, I couldn’t find a compelling reason to come back for six months each year. I saw it as a formula that still had a tablespoon of fear in it. If I was going to go (as least for the immediate future) I had to go all the way in. And if my heart suddenly felt a deep a yearning to live in my own country once again, then I would do so. I knew that the point was to surrender to the call of home and not to compromise, bargain or mutate it to make it more palatable.

Well before my visit to Nepal last year I had been wrestling pretty consistently with a feeling of entrapment. This feeling constantly fed a lingering sensation that I was not living in a place that inspired me to live my greater potential and it was driving me nuts. But to actually acknowledge and live what I felt that potential was, meant shedding so much of myself (including my environment) I wondered if I would even recognize myself afterwards. So I was running. Running by rationalizing with the feeling instead of surrendering to the most expansive call. After all, it was less scary to work with the fractured self I knew instead of jumping heart first into the unknown.

At first it may seem strange that a girl who was raised in family who relocated every 2-3 years throughout her youth (Germany, Ohio, Washington, Sicily, Hawaii, Japan, Vermont) and had learned to travel abroad alone with confidence would even bat an eye at establishing a new home. But I had gone from being a deeply insecure 19 year old girl to unearthing the performer, therapist and yogi I am today on Floridian soil. And whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was attached to this hot, humid, swampy, peninsula of sand. It was the one place in my life I had lived the longest. The place that served as backdrop to my twenties. The place my parents and sister lived. I had a lot of growth and a lot of memories here. I was dumbfounded by the thought of beginning to manifest a life in such a brilliant new context. And yet, my spirit was very clearly telling me that this was what I was destined to do. It was just a matter of time. While sitting in meditation one day last spring, I heard a voice within me loudly say, “You came back to say goodbye.” THAT folks, was the voice of wisdom. THAT was the voice of truth. In that moment, I knew why I had come to Orlando. I’d come back to say goodbye to a fractured self, to Florida and to the personal limits I had existed within up until now.

On the day that I told the studio owner I would be moving to Asia, I realized that I was not just moving on from a one year commitment but a way of life and belief system that had been in operation for at least ten years and I FELT the reverberation. Right after that phone conversation, I was the Kali Yuga personified. There was a several week period where I felt my insides totally rupture and my sense of foundation unreservedly absent. I was in a fetal position for days, crying and crying, floating in an abyss of darkness. I woke up everyday nauseated and could barely eat. I could barely speak and if I did, it was a pre-programmed version of myself, because “I” was gone. Truly. My ego was trying to catch-up to the fact that there was a massive shift in my infrastructure taking place. I had taken an action that was completely antagonistic to my previous wiring. The old me would have not left Orlando. She would have been planning new projects and teaching commitments and have set up some sort of temporary life here for several years. She would have been resigned to being comfortably, uncomfortable. And suddenly, I was doing the opposite. This was a distinct personal death. That time, especially the first week after giving notice, was horrific but it was my right of passage. It was like walking through The Valley of Shadow of Death with only a compass fashioned out of love to guide me through. That was the week of my quantum leap.

It seems true that after the darkest moments come the most glorious light and this experience has been no different. Where I was before, at a loss for savvy ideas of how to relocate, build and sustain a life abroad, suddenly people, resources and a flux of ideas abound. Right now, I’m amidst sorting through it all and making a plan. I’m taking all my belongings and selling, storing or giving them away. I leave Orlando in late December and head back to Jacksonville to live with my family and meet up with a best friend who has decided to collaborate on this next phase with me, which has been an unexpected and joyous development. The coming months will be filled with projects all aimed at living and studying in Asia. In 2011, Operation Move Sati To Asia officially begins and I have the memory of home to propel me forward. I cannot imagine doing anything else.

IN CONCLUSION

Even though this particular leap was to a place, it could just as well have been to a person. Either way, there is something glorious in how embodied forms can illuminate a light that damn near blinds us. A light that calls upon us to pull out our swords and slice through our pretenses. You may have to abandon all you thought you were for the dream of who you could become. And in moments of quiet, you’ll hear that subterranean truth. All you have to lose is everything that barricaded your heart and fogged up your vision. All you have to let go of is your attachment to being homeless.

Recently, one of my students gave me the book and CD set, Flow of Grace by Krishna Das. The CD is the chant, the Hanuman Chalisa and the book tells the story of the deity, Hanuman and his role in Hindu mythology. In the Hindu epic, The Ramayana, Hanuman, The great monkey god leaped over an ocean 800 miles in distance to reach Sita who was being held captive. He made the leap to find her whereabouts and to deliver a message to her from her husband Ram, who was God incarnate. Hanuman was the only one who dared make such a leap and he did it out of pure love and devotion to Ram. I read the story several times before I went to bed at night and realized that Hanuman was a perfect reflection of the role I am enacting right now. That is why this gift had fallen into my hands.

In truth, I am Sita. I need to be saved. I am Ram. I am ready to save. But perhaps most appropriately at this moment, I am Hanuman, the servant who out of total devotion to love, makes a leap over a divide that no one thought he could make. A leap that would help God build a bridge to his love. A bridge to a new life. A bridge home.

Written by Shannon "Sati" Chmelar

Lineup

I’ve got a lineup of lovers
All pointing me towards
The great teaching of how to love pain

And I see them standing there before me
Ready for anything:
a hug, an order, or accusation of what I thought they did

It’s time to see the symmetry in which you all came
It’s time to stop pretending that you were an accident
Instead of just simply; part of the plan

I want you all to know
That since we last met
I’ve been training
And trekking within

And that this once Grand Drama Queen
Truly, only ever had, one aim:
To one day, be the Sage.

And like all good students of spirit,
I now see that you were all diamonds
Meant to sharpen my bruised psyche on

So, perhaps much to your surprise,
I am here before you with an invitation

To my table
In a far off country
In a corner
Of my choosing
Of my making

To finally acknowledge
What always needed to be:
That you are indeed my spiritual family

There are those who covet the same exalted view
And there are those who have been soldiers of my release

That is you
That is you

This lineup of players has become my divine tribe because
You tested the integrity of my love
And pulled my wrath taut until it’s limitations were exposed

So I could see

That when there is nothing to hang on to
There is nothing to let go of

This is a dream where
I’ve worn you
And you’ve worn me

But now,
We can finally sit beside each other

Under the stars
In a far off country
In a corner
Of my choosing
Of my making

And toast to the thread of lucidity that runs
Through us all:
As family

Prayers In The Dark

Sometimes You

Speak to me
By making me
Recite prayers in the dark

Don’t You?

When beliefs that were breastfed and nurtured are suddenly
Up against a wall
Tethered down
Facing a firing squad
All dressed up in your clothes

Sometimes You

Play the killer
And as soon as I die
You become the mother
Expelling me from your flesh

I know you are laughing–
While nauseated,
I supplicate in this fetal position
And weep and moan

I know you are watching, amused
As I exorcise this most certain goodbye

I imagine things must look a bit different
In the Awakened Land where nothing gives rise

I may not be particularly lucid in this moment
However, I am acquainted with your manner–
Your lack of introductions
And your brisk departures

As you head toward the door
Tip toeing over my bloody mess
You turn, look at me, smile and say,

“Be sure to open a window. It’s time too let in the wind and the light.”

To India. To You.

It's time

My love

To come to you

Land of my lineage

Labyrinth of holy paradox

When you first summoned me I was

Too young

Too distracted

Too unsure of my own stride

To acquiesce your call

So, in the meantime

I sang your songs,

To Spirit

I let your mantras

Heal the abrasions on my heart

I committed my flesh

To your yoga

I chewed my teeth

On your dharma

I allowed you to transfigure me

And your purifying language consume me

Like a love letter sent from a distance

Years passed

Years explored

But your fierce call never ceased

You loved me while

I fought to preserve the

Integrity of my powerlessness

You loved me as

I waltzed with delusion

And in the end,

My dissidence collapsed

Under the weight of so much loving

Now, I am ready to taste your nature

With all my senses

You take the weakest beings into your fold

But you also take the strongest

And when I prostrate on your body for the first time

I will do so with an ancestry of

Of both dimensions in residence

So many renderings of self

So much karma

To cremate

I’ve been feeling your heat

But I haven’t become the fire

Yet, I’ve always known that was my destiny;

As Sati, to burn myself alive

Through one-pointed focus

Through devotion

Through you

This used to be the fear

But now, it is the promise

A joyous death

Of all that made me recoil

Of all the fallacies and demarcations

Of all the shit that masqueraded as “good enough”

I don’t want any more stakes in my ground

It’s time to make love

Like I’ve never made love before

Its time to let you engulf me;

The feeble and the formidable pieces

This convoluted mind

Finally, let it implode

Let it come crashing on down

I’m

Ready

To

Cease

To

Be

And thereafter,

When others search for who I was

All they will find

Are the ashes,

From where I burned

Love Without Reason

Photo from video shoot for Sufficiently Bruised Performance. 2004

I once told someone that I loved without reason. If there was a reason, a characteristic, a why of this love, then it would always be in danger of disappearing. Reason gone. Love gone. But if there was no reason–no particular set of conditions that the love depended upon to survive–then it was beyond the world of form, conditions, and temporality. It was without condition and therefore eternal. This love, I wagered, would outlive even my mortal body. Love to the last breath and beyond into the bardo and the various dimensions of my spiritual existence. Unconditional Love.

The love that The Bhagavad-Gita espouses, is truly one without conditions, precursors and limitation. Perhaps that is why humans yearn for such a moment, because to truly experience unconditional love is to taste their own divinity. With such a love, there is an undeniable sense of merging back into a state of oneness with another human. As if the love serves as a temporary transport vehicle and takes our egoic nature, locked in the world of duality, separation and relativity and all it’s accompanying defense mechanisms, and sends it on a ride back to non-duality and it’s essential absolute nature via the heart. Ah. What a ride.

When this happens, it’s unbelievably validating. Our spirit celebrates: Yes, we are one! I am without limit! My heart has crossed over the divide! My heart has transcended form! However, most of those experiencing this love-induced expansiveness are still very much embodied in form and have a dynamic mind to contend with. The mind is loaded with samskaras (mental imprints) and kleshas (afflictions) that have not been totally purified. And yet, for a beautiful, suspended moment in time, it’s as if the divine found a crack in the elaborate web of our obstructions and without hesitation passed through to the other side. Suddenly the mundane become miraculous. The simplest moments are imbued with an outrageous joy.

But for most unenlightened folk out there in this world, this becomes a temporary fixture of their experience. There comes a point when the wisdom of the heart is often overshadowed by the ailments of the human mind. Craving and attachment rear their ugly heads and suddenly one’s individual happiness and joy isn’t rooted in love any longer, but in a set of conditions that they find pleasurable and that appease the ego. Suddenly, the architecture of relationship begins to become, “I will love you if…” You can fill in the blank. Conditions and reasons arise and someone lassos their sense of security and joy onto a person (and his or her own unpurified mind) and not on pure love. What follows is a game of control and manipulation by an ego to make sure it gets what it needs to be satisfied. Sound familiar?

Suddenly you aren’t a vessel of love, but a controlling puppet motivated by fear and an overarching feeling that your life-support system is resting on someone else’s fragile human ego. This is called attachment. And I hope I save some of you out there reading this a little pain by telling you that this path is NOT sustainable or rooted in an eternal anything (remember that mind and body are impermanent aspects of phenomena). And because of this it will bring suffering. It will implode. Then, one day, you will find yourself standing amongst the ruins of a relationship that looks like it just got firebombed wondering what the hell happened.

The even sadder moment comes afterwards when we confuse that whole escapade as love itself! What a mess. This is why study is so important. Study yourself and learn to differentiate between what motivates your experience of suffering and pain and what liberates you. The sooner you can do that, the sooner you put yourself in the driver’s seat of wisdom’s divine chariot.

I would go so far to say that true love is an aspect of wisdom itself. But it’s all the other crap that goes around masquerading as love (i.e. craving, lust, greed, fear, power…) that is indeed, very foolish. And these are the seeds of human suffering. How can you tell the difference? Love is truly unselfish. Craving is wholly selfish. Love breeds compassion. Craving breeds cruelty. Why? Because craving is filled with need and therefore an inherent sense of lack that seeks to fulfill itself. Need has a dualistic imprint on it. It depends on duality to survive. There is a half-empty quality to craving that always say’s “Gimme.” Love just says, “I am.” Love is bliss. It is non-dual awareness. In the words of Kahlil Gibran, “Love is sufficient unto love.”

Love seems to be the most common theme for songs. The love song. And yet, I feel that so many of these “love songs” are really just “lust songs." Songs of craving and not of clarity. Songs of confusion instead of wisdom. Songs that sought the piercing insight of love but got lost along the noble quest. Love does not fade. It is only obstructed. In the same way that Brahman is obstructed by maya and the way sunlight is obstructed by the clouds. Coming in contact with this knowledge is the first step. Embodying it is second. There is theory and then there is practice and that makes all the difference. Wisdom can transform a self-proclaimed heart-broken seeker into a sage. But one must practice. Practice.

About 15 years ago I was that heart-broken seeker. I was so broken that I think, had I not found the wisdom teachings and been in contact with several very important spiritual teachers, I probably would have ended up killing myself or spent my days in a mental institution of some sort. Spending a day in my psyche was no joke and I knew how to suffer. I knew how to do it really, really well.

Everything one can do wrong in the way of love, I did. I did it with a vengeance and an angry power. And it was slowly killing me. It was destroying my spirit. And while the journey began in my teens, my quest to fully understand love didn’t come to an earth-shaking awakening until just a few weeks ago. It was a moment of awakening that not only allowed me to directly perceive the truth, but it also unveiled how every love in my life since the beginning, the entire cast of characters, had offered me a chance to step out of the muck of my ignorance and into the magnificence of my true, non-dual nature. Every relationship was a test to see how well I was surrendering into the flow of love’s teachings.

In that moment of awakening I can honestly say, that I was not in this realm. I had transported myself out of this world and was taken into a much more lucid state of consciousness, that funnily enough was catalyzed by an amazing opening of heart. And all of sudden, in a meditative gaze, I looked out into empty space and I saw it. I saw my narrative play out and I WAS everyone involved. I was basking in non-dual reality. And in that moment it was so clear that I had failed again and again in varying degrees, over the years to love without reason and without condition. And I saw each defining moment that had been offered me to do this in every relationship. Each relationship that had radiated a piercing divine love all ended up to one pivotal test:

One of the greatest tests of love is when the person you love wishes to walk away from you.

And in those moments I saw myself fail. I saw myself succumb to attachment and craving. I saw myself affirm duality and separation. I saw myself explode with “What I want is more important than what you want!” I saw myself absent of compassion. I was no sage. I was a screaming child.

In that moment of awakened insight I fell to my knees. Tears of searing joy erupted. Nothing I can really say will explain the moment I had. Where I was. What I saw. It was truly beyond words. My identity was well beyond the limits of my individual ego and I was inside light. I cried tears of total affirmation and then the laughter came. I began to laugh and laugh and laugh. I ran back to couch and fell off in laughter. The answer was always there. Right in front my nose the entire time. Just love and I had already arrived. I had it all. I was them. They were me. There was nowhere to go because I was already there. I saw with unbelievable precision, how my suffering had decreased in direct correlation to the level of craving and attachment I had managed to dissolve over the years through conscious practice. Practice! If you want to call it mind training, fine. If you want to call it heart training, fine. If you want to call it yoga, fine. If you want to call it Buddhism, fine. If you want to call it an out-of-body experience, fine. It doesn’t matter. Wisdom will come to us in an infinite manner of forms but the essential teachings are the same when it comes to what causes human suffering and liberation. So love people. Love without reason.

In January of 2004 I created and performed in what would be my last one-woman show for quite some time. It was called Sufficiently Bruised: Cooking Dessert with SZM. That performance was a story that explored the trajectory of my understanding of love up until that point in my life. I was 25 years old. It was a triumphant moment for me in so many ways, but most importantly it marked the end of many years of feeling victimized and the beginning of a truly conscious journey towards fully realizing the experience of love. Now 6 years later, it has become clear that my return to the stage will be to share the love story that has followed since Sufficiently Bruised.

Just a few days ago I was digging through my old SZM performance archives and was reading some of my old show programs. I opened the one for the Sufficiently Bruised show and in the first paragraph I was reminded how courageous that previous incarnation of me had been to share her story. I felt like she was calling out to me now, reminding me to be brave and not to forget to taste the sweetness of love as it manifests in this period of my life. And not to shy away from telling others my new love story. In conclusion it seems appropriate to end this essay with her words:

The redemption of my heart has been no small feat. Throughout the course of creating this work, the desire to jump ship has occurred many times over. The romance of giving up, flying away, sinking below, squeezing inside, something else far away from the high and mighty calling of Sufficiently Bruised. If only to stay bruised for just a little longer. But redemption was in order and enormously desired. It was time to give in and taste this dessert.

Thank God I did.

Taking In A Wider View

Brooklyn Botanical Gardens on my recent trip to NYC

I recently created a philosophy program at The Yoga Shala here in Orlando, Florida. While I totally admit it’s a shameless way for me to indulge in my own philosophical studies and share them with aspiring Yogis, it is also to answer, I feel, a very important call to encourage more scholarship in the Western Yoga community.

I’ve heard too many vague, discombobulated and just down right confused statements by teachers regarding Yogic practice. Most of the ignorance seems to be around understanding the context of practice and how asana practice directly relates to the spiritual objective of a Yogi. I think this is because the value of philosophical inquiry has not been fully understood by many students of Yoga practice. I’m here to bring the heartbreaking news that knowing the 8 limbs of Ashtanga Yoga isn’t going to cut it folks. Sorry. That's like memorizing the table of contents to favorite novel. Why this small bit of information is regarded as a Yoga student's needed philosophy background in total is bewildering to me.

What I find in my own Ashtanga Yoga community, are a lot of kinesthetically advanced but philosophically weak practitioners. To do practice without understanding the intent of practice is to divorce the How from the Why. One way to look this relationship is in this scenario: You just learned how to drive a car. You decide to take it out for a spin without knowing where you are going and when you get lost, you realize you don’t have a map. In your confusion you hit an obstacle in the road, which kicks you in high gear for a classic melt down. You feel totally alone, in doubt and darkness and you don’t know why you wanted to learn to drive in the first place and why the heck didn’t you bring a map!

So you learn one of many practices of Yoga. Great. But along with this practice you need to study the nature of it’s aim and how this fits within the larger intention of Yoga. In short, you need a map. If you have this, your drive with Yoga will be much more productive to say the least. One of my favorite questions that I think every student should ask a seasoned teacher is this, “What makes Yogic practice spiritual practice?” If a Yoga teacher has started to refine the mind with philosophical study, such a question may have several very good answers and probably a few counter-questions.

Yoga itself is a formal philosophical school. It has the honor of being one of the six orthodox schools of Indian philosophy. Over the centuries the school of Yoga integrated the teachings of two other schools into it’s fold, Samkhya and Vedanta respectively. The very fact that Yoga is one of the great philosophical traditions of the Indian subcontinent, seems to make it obvious that this spiritual practice holds a sacred place in the world’s wisdom traditions. Last time I checked the philosophy of spinning and free weights hasn’t made it there yet. This is why it’s inane when people insist on devaluing yogic practice to a “work out?” All you have to do is take 5 minutes to read a little history and you should be in awe that the subtle, mystical glory of Yoga has reached your neighborhood.

Use your mind to train the mind, just like you use your body to train the body. The philosophy of Yoga is just as concerned with your well-being as your nutritionist. Yet, it's nature dances with a different dimension of your being. Remember when you dive into philosophical study, you don’t have to agree. You just have to care. That is all. Compare. Contrast. Critique. Digest. Debate. Laugh. Languish. Take in a wider view. That is the practice of philosophy.

When you are ready, come on by the shala this summer. I’d be happy to hear your thoughts.

Om Shanti

Getting Off The Train Of Perpetual Discontent

Kopan Monastery

A couple of days ago I tripped and fell down a flight of stairs on my way to teach a yoga class. After about 30 minutes of pain and limping, it became apparent that I had broken one of my toes. Since I don’t really believe in accidents (sorry, but I cannot recount here 31 years of antidotes to explain why), I immediately started contemplating the deeper meaning behind the incident. My thoughts turned to the time when I fractured my left ankle in a dance class about 9 years ago. Fracturing that ankle ended up shifting the course of my creative process as a performance artist and my interactions with a few specific people, that was, in retrospect, exactly what I needed to do. I became much more empowered by the rippling effect of that ankle fracture. I regard the event with thanks.

So now, I have this toe issue, this small reminder of something. Something. The first thing everyone said to me was, “It must mean you need to slow down.” Which my first reaction was, “I thought I wasn’t going fast enough?” I have a lot of reasons, I (sorry again) cannot write at the moment to explain why I felt this way.

However, upon closer inspection, it wasn’t my daily schedule that was haywire, so much as the race of my own thoughts. I have a daily meditation practice that runs about 30 minutes each day. After the accident, I had a bit more time to invest in, not only my meditation time but also reading, writing, and clarifying what the nature of my mind-stream was as of late. And the fact is, I have to admit it: they are right. There has been bit of a treadmill quality to my thinking. I am guilty of the thought pattern of: hurry up and get this done so you move onto this next thing so you can FINALLY get to this thing…it’s sad. I know.

If you’ve studied any yoga, you know, this is the type of thinking that meditation practice aims to harness and with a steady, razor sharp focus, weaken and eventually destroy all together. So I sat. And sat. And continued to sit in meditation and realized, I’m still caught in a little thing called, chasing happiness.

By chasing happiness I don’t mean not enjoying the moment, I mean not being able to be fully present in the moment AT ALL. I bought a ticket and boarded the Train of Perpetual Discontent. Faced pressed against the glass, I watched the landscape wizzing by. Sometimes, we Westerners try to make this human ailment attractive by calling it Ambition. Nice try. But it’s a no go. A little introspection will let you know if are being motivated by an abundant desire to create and explore or just run to the next thing because you are afraid of fully sitting with what is happening in the present. One is motivated by abundance and clarity. The other is motivated by delusion and dissatisfaction. One is a path of wisdom. One is a path of fear.

I got on the wrong train. I know it. In my meditation, I could see all my spiritual teachers, waving goodbye to me from the platform for my yet another, excursion on Perpetual Discontent. After I roll out of the station, they all go out for a cup of coffee and lament over my progress. “When will she get a clue?”

So I broke my toe. It was enough. Just enough to get me to sit a little deeper and a little longer in my last few meditations.

I got off at the next station and took a breather. Looked around and assessed my situation for what it really was and remembered that my future karma is determined by my awareness and actions in this VERY MOMENT. And this very moment was filled with a sense of desperation about how to manifest a specific dream I have. Not good. I knew this intellectually and yet, I needed a strong reminder experientially. I needed it to enter my heart. I needed a broken bone.

If the present moment is motivated by desperation then you are manifesting desperation. If you feel, act, and complain that your greatest dreams are miles away, then they are miles away. If however, you see how the present moment is filled with abundant potentiality, then your future, my dear, will be abundant. Your future will be a cornucopia of good stuff. Let it go and you finally get it. Be fully present and you will finally manifest a fulfilling future.

I had a good cry–several actually. The kind of cry the wells up organically with no accompanying feelings of pain. It was a cry of crystalization that screams, “YES!” It was so funny, because in that cry, I felt like I could hear the machine of the universe start to launch itself into gear to get all the stars aligned for the next exciting life dream to begin. I heard Kurt Russell’s voice in the movie Captian Ron, “Lets kick the tires and light the fires!”

So what is this future dream, I’m chasing, you ask? I want to devote more of my life (huge swaths of it…like years) to more intensive devotional practice and less time to worldly pursuits. That is something I know in the deepest part of my core and it’s time I fully live from that place NOW and stop putting it in some imagined future. It’s time to take my spiritual practices and craft an entire life that supports me doing these practices over long periods throughout the day in the land of my spiritual lineage…yes, India (and Nepal, Bhutan, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Bali…you get the point).

The truth is, my interest in living in the U.S. and participating in it’s capitalist culture has been waning for the last few years and ever more so with every passing season. However, for most of my 20’s I used to really enjoy it. I didn’t mind joining the game and the signing the contracts to buy things, drive things, wear things and insure things. But now, lately, contracts make me sweat. Honestly, I don’t like them. Even a lease makes me uncomfortable. And this is coming from a girl who bought her first home at the age of 24 years old.

The thing is, when I look out my window, I don’t see what I value being reflected back to me in any prevalent manner and it makes me itch. In addition to that, I see a lot of women my age having babies, buying homes and getting married. They are interested in nesting and shaping their entire lives to support that decision. Yet, the only thing I feel like nesting at the moment is divine revelation. I ask myself, “Why cannot I, make a nest for God, as others make nests for babies and family?" Make a nest for God. For Emptiness. For Brahman. Sounds good to me. The inclination becomes more and more insistent. Every year, I always have one friend that looks at me and asks, “Are you going to become a Buddhist nun?”
“Nooooo.” I say. “I cannot go back into doing performance art if I become a nun…can I?”

The fact is, even after walking the path of genuine spiritual inquiry since I was 13 years old and 10 years of focused study in yoga, I feel like I’m just getting started. I’m still REALLY hungry for philosophical and spiritual knowledge, travel through Asia and above all, devotional practice in holy places of pilgrimage. My trips to Asia thus far have only further confirmed the resonance I feel in that part of the world. It has wet my appetite, not satisfied it.

Daily, I’m stirred by the words my friend Patricia said to me on my last day in Nepal; only 4 hours before my plane was due to take off, she took my hand and said, “Come back to us Sati. Come back to us.”

It took everything I had not to fall into her arms and not let go.

How this will manifest exactly, I’ll let you all be surprised (including myself). It may take a bit of work, but I know for sure that I’m present and therefore, I’m empowered to make it manifest. I know it’s time to stop making excuses as to why I cannot fashion a life with new shape, color and sound. The shape has the contours of prostrations, hands in prayer and ancient asanas. The color is a landscape filled with Buddhist and Hindu devotion. The sound is of ancient mantras in Pali, Sanskrit and Tibetan.

I found an old poem I wrote while I was visiting Thailand about chasing happiness. I thought it was apropos to republish it here. I think I'm a bit more courageous then my previous incarnation who wrote this several years ago. How do I know? Because, she asked herself the important question. Now, I’m ready to answer it.

Sati. It’s time. Build a nest for God. Build a nest for Emptiness. Its time to get off the Train of Perpetual Discontent. It’s time to stop chasing happiness.


Chasing Happiness
(originally published 12.13.06)

Stop.

Be Still

Stop.

Chasing Happiness.

You are like a dog running after a toy that you may never get in between your teeth
Amidst all this change
Rushing, rolling, polluted city
I found a full moon
A blind man trying to cross the street
Countless people driving too fast
Chasing Happiness

I kept walking
and thinking
as I often do
wondering what life would be like without

WANT

If I stopped trying to chase happiness for one moment
and did as my teachers have said
Just BE PRESENT

Am I willing to lose myself to that degree?
A girl without need
Not yet. But perhaps. I'm tickled by the possibility.

I've seen tragedy
I've known debilitating pain
I've beheld beauty
and love so profound
my ability to express seemed
a mere joke of the divine plan

Yet I wonder:

by the light of this insane and lovely creation–

Could I dare
Ever dare

Stop.

Chasing Happiness?

A Village of Women: Remembering How To Play

Laughing on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Asheville, North Carolina

I have a funny little tradition that I guess you could call, Calendar Foreshadowing. At some point in my mid-20’s I discovered that the images on my annual wall calendar somehow always ended up reflecting the general theme of what that year would hold for me. Month after month, I would see these thematic images being reflected back to me as the year unfolded, much to my own amusement.

Now, when I go for that purchase in January, I have a strong awareness of what I’m being drawn towards. In 2009, I had a calendar with images of Buddhist sculptures throughout Asia. Then, last September, while exploring Swayambhunath Temple high in hills above Kathmandu, I realized that I was standing face to the face with the exact statue of Buddha that I had been staring at on my calendar a few months prior. Needless to say, that was an impressive moment.

I assumed I’d have another Buddhist inspired calendar since it’s always on mind. However, the calendar I chose for 2010 was of humorous, playful vintage images of women from the 1940’s with empowering quotes that celebrate feminine nature and the shared relationships between women. I put it up on the wall and it made me smile. I had no idea what I was in for…

As if the universe knew the exact moment I hung that new calendar up on my wall, I was suddenly playing back-to-back host to some of the most enriching female friendships of my life. It started with a visit from Melissa, a best friend from high school who spent the holidays with me before she moved to Hawaii from D.C. Then came Caroline from New York City, my yogic comrade and fellow spiritual adventurer. Then came Jeanna who, with her 3-year old and husband camped out in my living room with sleeping bags on Valentines Day. Then came Jasmine, my roommate from Bennington College who I hadn’t been able to see for any length of time in almost 12 years! I gave these women the other half of my bed and I suddenly remembered all the sleepovers I used to have. I remembered staying up too late to talk about things that are worth staying up late for. I remembered holding them when they needed to be held. I made them brownies. They made me laugh. We shared stories of the mystical. We shared stories of the mundane.

But most obviously, the profound intimacy I share with these women reconnected me with something I had forgotten as soon as my plane landed on U.S. soil from my recent trip to Nepal. I FORGOT HOW TO PLAY. When Caroline burst into my sunny apartment last January she sounded our new era: “Girl. It’s time to PLAY.” And play, because we could now. Play because we had witnessed each other overcome so many dark, delusional moments with daily yogic effort and spiritual prowess. We were now basking in a lot more light and a lot more wisdom. Our attachments had lessened. Our compassion had increased. We had kicked down a few major walls and while we have a few more to go, the buoyancy was, and is, apparent. The kind of play I speak of is not some muddy form of distraction, but rather an expression of joy. This is the sort of play that connects us deeper to spirit. It is a play that is the natural outgrowth of our whimsical sensibilities, reverence for life and quite frankly, of love.

In addition to daily laughter, dancing and discussion, Caroline and a few new friends came over for a night of music making and singing by candlelight. We beat on drums, played the guitar, rang the chimes, played the singing bowl, chanted and sang. Intermission included eating star fruit and giving each other healing massages and bodywork. Even the rough moments had a sense of humor: After Caroline ran to the bathroom to vomit after catching the flu that had kept me in bed sucking on sugar-free popsicles for several days, she exclaimed, “Girl, we are down!” And we just started giggling at the absurdity of it all. We were down, but in other ways, we were way, way, up.

As soon as Jasmine got into my car when I picked her up at the airport she said, “You look good.” And I replied, “Girl, any light you see, is light I’ve WORKED for. I’ve worked for this light!” And we burst into laughter. Jasmine and I reinstituted a few old Bennington College traditions, including spontaneous pajama dance parties to Crimson & Clover by Tommy James & The Shondells as well sneaking to turn each other’s shower water on ice cold while mid-shower. Of course, this lovely tradition is followed by screams and then light-hearted threats. As Jasmine and I looked back at old photos of us together when we were 18, it really hit home that play is truly a celebration of life, and an expression of not taking our daily gifts for granted. We both felt we were in a position to celebrate in a way we hadn’t before, and we didn’t want to waste anymore time.

While basking in the glow of my village of women, I asked myself: Why do so many women suddenly lose these moments to the oncoming march of “maturity.” Why don’t we kick our partners out of our beds, for a night with our best friend? Or at least pitch a tent in the living room to enjoy a magical world with our special confidant? Why do women allow themselves to become isolated islands flanked by an ocean of responsibilities? Who made the rule that maturity means we should live top-heavy, responsibility-laden lives with little time for friendship and play and why are so many women practicing it? I think, unconsciously, if we see a common formula of what we are told a mature woman looks like, we assume it’s around because it’s successful, but honestly, I just don’t think that is the case.

I know too many women who feel trapped by their big homes, big cars, multi-tasking and consumer culture madness. So many women who are in bondage to an “idea” of what they think a mother, wife or woman should be instead of expressing these roles authentically, originally and ecstatically from the core of themselves. As the parade of convention rolls a woman into her 30’s and 40’s, there seems to a general lack of time to commune with other females in a joyous expression of play. So many lose their village of female friendship too the high maintenance island of daily errands, kids, cars, career, commute, making money and spending it. The happiest women I know are those who are living on their own terms and those women all seem to deeply value the time they have to play and nurture their female bonds. These women are living 'out of the box' lives, sure, but they seem to be enjoying themselves, so I'm taking my cue from them.

Yes, it may require a radical shift of priorities or lifestyle. But shouldn’t we all do something radical once in a while? What if play was just a signal that you are indeed a more liberated, happier you? What if play meant you were a better wife, mother and woman? What if we reframed this idea that play is just the abode of youth, but instead, an ecstatic expression of age? What if we laughed and rejoiced with our best girlfriends every day? How is that a bad idea?

I feel blessed that this year has already carried with it the reunion of so many of my past female connections. I look forward to see who is coming next. In the words of my new friend, Dani Shay, “It’s immature not to play.” And I can honestly say, I quite agree with her. Cheers to my sisters; to my village of women.

"In my friend, I find my second self." -Isabel Norton

A Legacy of Love and Coming to Receive It

The Stage Awaiting Krishna Das

"When man gets it, he loves all, hates none; he becomes satisfied forever. This love cannot be reduced to any earthly benefit because so long as earthly desires last, that kind of love does not come. "

-Narada

If there is something I need in my life on a regular basis, it's really good kirtan, i.e. Bhakti Yoga practice. Of course, it's better when you get to do it with one of the best, Krishna Das. When I heard Krishna Das was making a trip to Tampa, I jumped online and got my tickets. The event was held at a pretty amazing Hindu Temple and the night was packed with those who knew, and didn't know what kind of transmission of love was in store for them. The last time I saw Krishna Das was in 2005 at a Yoga Conference and never forgot the power of his teachings, voice and love. I went that night with a very clear intention to being open to receive his and his Guru's guidance.

He came to the stage with a tabla player and violinist, sat quietly, made a few jokes and then suddenly spoke of grace. Tears started to fill my eyes. His teachings on grace at the very beginning were what I really needed to settle into myself as my heart traversed the sounds of the evening in committed focus. Near the end of the night, almost without thinking, I jumped to my feet and started dancing around to Hare Krishna.

KD's stories and teachings that night were about getting lost in love. A transcendent love. A divine love. A love that never leads to suffering because it is not attached to form. It is a love the is plugged into the formless isness of all. It is a love you swim in. A love you dance in. A love you sing in. A love that is endless. It is the same love The Bhagavad-Gita espouses in it's poetic elegance.

Whether I or anyone in that room were experiencing or had experienced that love almost didn't matter. What mattered is that everyone was there in a joint effort to celebrate the possiblity of one day doing so. It was a celebration by using the power of chant to clear away the attachments, darkness, confusion and delusion from our own hearts. To stop viewing others as seperate entities but as an explosion of incarnations from one source.

Formally, in Bhakti Yoga, there are elucidated higher and lower realms to this path. On the lower forms, there is a strong dualistic quality creating a division between devotee and that to which he/her is devoted. In the higher forms, there is a love beyond all form with no discernible separation of identity between the yogi and the Divine source. Whether that divine source is a formless God with no attributes as Advaita Vedanta teaches on the Hindu path or pure emptiness as the Buddhists teach, I personally don't care. I know it's a edgy thing for a Yogi-soon-to-be-Buddhist to say, but, I think the formless finality as described in both traditions, are the same place. It don't think it's a thing that can or should be debated. Debate about form, but the formless can only be experienced. Those who taste that love will either melt into oblivion or return to our earthly realm to tell us about it.

After a pretty heavy last few months, the night comes at perfect time as I have felt an ever increasing buoyancy of spirit. Thank You KD and Thank You Maharaji. I plan to see and hear you soon.

In Bhakti

Sati

Understanding The Nature Of Endings: A Year In Review

A moment of contemplation in Bhaktapur

While I can never truly depart from spiritual discourse, for this entry, I’ve decided to move away from my usual contemplative essay on yogic practice.

Instead, I find myself thinking about everything that has occurred in 2009. What is highlighted is a theme of endings, and trying desperately to fully understand them. Endings that I created and endings that I witnessed like a passerby. Endings that were marked by a flow of silent tears. Endings that made my heart swell with expansive love and recognition. If there was a taste to 2009, it was the taste of bittersweet.

In the west, we believe in FOREVER. We believe that the cultivation of personal security, safety and stability is a worthy way to live one’s life. Make relationships last forever. Make your investments last a lifetime. Live like you aren’t going to die tomorrow. Obtain every type of insurance you can and risk as little as possible. Beginnings are always framed in glow of optimism. Endings are to be mourned, or to be thought about as little as possible. To most westerners, the nature of impermanence isn’t a liberating idea; it’s a sad one, because impermanence means there is an inevitable end. In contrast, to those in the east, forever is considered an idle delusion that leads to sadness. Imbedded in the teachings of much eastern thought is the concept that all form is subject to the laws of nature, and therefore have a temporal physical existence. As such, the tide of life brings death. Endings aren’t sad. They just are. Beginnings aren’t always wonderful. They just are. You can frame each aspect anyway you want. But overall, endings in the east, often have a positive connotation that doesn’t exist here in the west. I think this is largely due to a strong connection to nature and a firm belief in reincarnation. Either way, all things in manifest form (including thoughts) are subject to a rising and falling within time and space. And that includes your own sense of self and everything that you come in contact with. Fighting this fact, means fighting the tide. Going against the flow.

While this seems wholly practical and pretty obvious to the rational mind, for most of us, deep suffering is experienced throughout our lives, because we fight the tide of impermanence. We fight change and nature itself. Our persona grasps onto what it’s currently got and holds on tightly for fear of the unknown. We fear that our present psychological, spiritual, emotional and physical identity and those close to us are subject to extreme change. We attach ourselves to what we crave and we repel (which is another form of attachment) what we don’t. Everyone is inspired by the thought of evolution, but forget that evolution implies movement. It implies tiny births and tiny deaths everyday. It implies continuous endings and beginnings because as insight increases, delusion subsides. Nothing in truth is a marble statue. Not even a marble statue is a static entity. Exam a statue at it’s most microscopic point and there is no solid mass. The Buddhists knew this. The Yogis knew this. We experience this reality everyday and still we fight this fundamental aspect of our existence.

While I’d been working ardently at releasing a lot of my own personal attachments, especially in the realm of my heart, I still hadn’t come to peace with understanding the nature of endings, and that is probably one of main reasons, I found myself in Nepal, arm-in-arm with the Tibetan Buddhists this last summer. I was immersed in a culture that doesn’t have a belief in physical finality, but rather a stirring recognition of change and impermanence. Endings lead to new beginnings, which is the force that conducts this samsaric symphony of existence until enlightenment (a place beyond change because it is a state beyond form) is achieved.

The summer was filled with poignant examples of this teaching. Only into my second week in Nepal, I found out that my grandmother had passed away. I was totally shocked and confused as to why this happened while I was on the other side of the world, unable to be near my family to comfort them during this time. Yet my circumstances provided me with the opportunity to witness the Buddhist community come together in honor of my grandmother and the monks performed death puja prayers to help her journey safely to the land of Amitabha, the land of pure light, before she entered her next incarnation. I was overwhelmed by the compassion of so many strangers.

Several days before I returned to the U.S. I discovered that a dear friend of mine, Kit Pun, who I met back in Thailand in 2006 had died in a bike accident near Portland, Oregon at the age of 26 years old. We had communicated while I was in Nepal and I, at her request, went to visit an Nepali orphanage that she had volunteered at several years prior to check on the kids she had cared for. She was so happy to hear about them, and then suddenly, she was gone. As soon as I got back home, I went to a salon and had my hair colored like Kit’s was when I met her. It was my way to honor her. She had a sense of humor and I think she would have loved the gesture. I could almost hear her laughing.

While I was about halfway through my stay in Nepal, I found myself sink into a really clarified state of mind and lucidity that I am rarely privy too. I started contemplating ALL the reasons I was there, not just some of them. When I got down to it, I realized that it was a deep dissatisfaction with my life back home that brought me to this holy land as much as a profound pull for personal and spiritual expansion. I felt the duality of this realization and for once, I was ready to get honest with myself, about what I valued and how I wanted to experience myself in this world. A profound peace came over me one night, as I sat on the roof of the International Buddhist Academy gazing at the stars. I knew in the deepest part of me, that my future belonged in arms of Asia and I would do anything to make it a reality. A profound and unequaled love came over me. What I was experiencing in Nepal was something I had never known before, never had my soul felt so at home. After realizing this, I knew it would have been spiritually immoral for me to return as if nothing had changed; as if Tibetan Buddhist culture, this land and it’s people had been only a whimsical souvenir and not a piercing effect on my sense of identity. I wasn’t interested in keeping up appearances. I wasn’t interested in maintaining the status quo.

What followed were a lot of endings. The end of living in Jacksonville for 10 years. The end of a deeply, transformative relationship. The end of my 5-year teaching practice with so many beautiful students. The end of a major chapter in my life. For the first time, I was creating a lot of endings, and I was moving with the tide.

In Hindu mythology, Shiva represents the purificatory process of change and destruction. I knew my actions were being moved by this energy within me. I also knew that my decisions were not going to be fully understood or supported. But I realized that there is no substitute for direct experience and insight, and no one back in the U.S. knew what I was going through. Know one was there, dwelling in my spirit so many of those nights. And that is okay. I’m at peace with that, because my suffering and my liberation are my own responsibility and gaining someone's particular sympathies does not change that well-worn truth.

I knew that it was going to take courage because I didn’t know (and still don’t at the time of writing this) what was going to built in place of what I was destroying. I didn’t sense what Brahma (Hindu god of creation) had in store for me in practical terms, all I knew was that I had to act and I had to end even loving, comforting and beautiful aspects of my life because they weren’t reflective of this massive internal shift.

And so here I am.

After the storm of an ending, there is lot of silence. A lot of time alone. I’m in a new city, not too far away, introducing myself to a lot of new people and teaching what I know. The bittersweet taste of 2009 is still there. The yearning for a return to Nepal and a visit to India is with me every second of everyday. Yet, the path back to Asia is not fully clear. I just know there is a path; there are many. Maybe I’ll totally drop out of western society and just spend my days studying at ashrams and monasteries. Maybe I’ll find a way to balance a life in both parts of the world. Maybe I’ll start performing again. Maybe I’ll laugh more, listen harder and make fewer concessions. Maybe I’ll follow my heart with more abandon and feel more empowered with my place in this temporal universe.

In the meantime, the words of my spiritual teachers are my constant companions. I hear them the loudest right before I fall asleep. I hear their words of wisdom guiding me even as I enter into the darkness of the unknown. “Remember that endings lead to new beginnings, Sati. Remember to be like water and flow with the tide. When you do, you will not suffer. You will thrive.”

Mysore Minds: Finding The Balance

“The Yogi who enjoys the state of Samadhi is not consumed by death; he is not bound by Karma, nor is he subdued by anybody.”

-Hatha Yoga Pradipika

There is an idea, and perhaps, a truth that yoga teachers don’t train bodies, but minds. From the yogic viewpoint the flesh and bone body is just a kosha, or layer of a human’s spectrum of consciousness (I will use the word Mind to mean this here) that includes many others layers that operate as fully integrated systems.

As I’ve been teaching to a new community of Ashtanga yoga students these past 2 months, I’ve had an opportunity to really sit back and watch with a great degree of interest. A lot of the students who have come to study at The Yoga Shala already have been introduced to Ashtanga yoga and have established practices, which gives me a lot of information to work with. Comparatively, when I taught in Jacksonville, most of my students had no experience with the practice so my input was taught and harnessed by students early on. This input is so important because it provides a framework for the student in terms of how they should be practicing, and not just what they are practicing. I have found the how of practice to be just as important as the practice itself because it clarifies a student's intentions which largely determines if a student can create a sustainable, steady practice over many years.

It doesn’t take long to learn about an individual if you just watch them practice in the mysore room. It’s like having an intimate conversation with someone you just met. You see their fear, anger, compassion, love, sweetness, discipline, confusion, barriers and passion, all play out in varying degrees. But what you see most of all, is what isn’t working and what is interrupting their growth and evolution. Since Hatha Yoga is based largely on ideas of bridging and balancing the feminine (i.e. flexibility, adaptability, compassion and softness) and masculine energy (i.e. structure, strength, power and ambition) that all beings have within their energetic systems, I often see the imbalances in practice in this way. Depending on the student, If I see an excess of feminine energy and depletion of masculine energy (and all the correlating mental-emotions that goes with that) then I push them harder, reframe their practice to induce more work in the strength and structure. I may work on getting them to believe more in their personal power on the mat. For students who have an excessive amount of masculine energy and a depletion of feminine, I may teach them to slow down and lighten their practice. I may have them hold poses longer then the usual 5 breaths and really work with them on softening their tissue and their mentality towards practice. Ultimately, what the practice is working to unveil is balance in the mind of a student so they may navigate life, relationships and spiritual practice with their energies in the most efficient and empowered way possible.

When habit patterns that have developed in students with an established practice have been around for sometime and it takes a lot of work and reminding to establish new, more balanced patterns. In my own practice I use visualization and mantra techniques as well to help reshape my mind during practice so that is also something I invite my students to do. It’s a little unorthodox in the Ashtanga world, but if I can find a tool that is effective in harnessing the mind that has worked for me, that is something I will share with students.

Lets not forget that the primary series of Ashtanga Yoga is called Yoga Chikitsa in Sanskrit, which means, “Yoga Therapy” and I feel strongly that part of that therapy is the balancing of our inherent masculine and feminine principles. Of course, this isn’t the only successful way to create an energetic balance but it is a way that works and one that prepares yogis for meditative practice that is an essential outgrowth of this Hatha Yoga path. When that does happen, an equilibrium is established and deeper dimensions of spiritual practice can occur. More subtle practices of pranayama and meditation prove to be fruitful because the mind and body is in a more liberated, easeful state.

Meditative practice classically falls under the title of Raja Yoga in yogic texts. From a steady mind, one can use it to pierce through it’s own very nature to see what is outside the mind itself. The other side of that is a realm beyond the expression of language and a place beyond form. It is beyond contrast, conception, or idea. It is the Truth and the place of eternal oneness. The irony is that only with the direct experience of what is not mind, can a human being see that mind is illusionary and that material existence has no inherent substance or reality. When this occurs liberation or Samadhi has taken place.

While this goal seems far from basic day-to-day work in the mysore room it plays a big role in preparing the mind for this wider, more penetrating journey within. I feel blessed to be apart of the process and I look forward to working with new minds in the mysore room.

Om Shanti
-Sati

“The entire universe is a mental construction; and the imaginary world too is a mental construction. Turning the mind away from all that which is a mental construction, you can certainly attain peace.”

-Hatha Yoga Pradipika