I spent most of last week meditating in groups and doing silent retreat in my own apartment. I'd be lying if I told you it didn't feel like a bit of shock when I returned to teach my four back-to-back classes on Sunday morning.
Other than the usual morning laziness, I
noticed that I was speaking a little slower — paying more attention to
my words, being more specific about the feeling of the postures and breath. I felt relaxed and energized at the same time.
And to be honest with you...I struggled. Although I've been meditating,
off and on, for years, retreat is always challenging. To sit still and
turn within for so many consecutive days...to make the commitment to do
it without excuses...to choose not to be on Facebook, not to reply to
emails, not even to escape into my own yoga practice...to just meditate!
I could see and feel my own resistance erupting everywhere.
Many times, I caught myself trying too hard. It was when I relaxed that I enjoyed it the most.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
props. Settle down. Center. Socialize if you want to. Work on increasing your total
number of Facebook friends if you prefer. Or like me… Do a few crunches. But please be
on time. It is disruptive to others when you’re late. Whether you meant to or not, tardiness
will affect others by forcing them to shift mats around and by making unnecessary noise.
Organize your time efficiently and everyone will appreciate it, especially your teacher.
2. Think Airport Security. No metal. No shoes. No electronics. When you enter class
(kind of like when you board a plane), please switch your electronics to the “OFF”
position. I am ok if you bring water or any other beverage (even your double espresso
cappuccino from Starbucks-don’t ask). You don’t need your backpack, your coat, your
Bloomingdales brown bag or any other accessories. Oh, and is the noisy jewelry really
that necessary? That’s what lockers are for. All you need is your mat and a towel.
Simplify. Life is simple!
I had my first yoga experience almost ten years ago. It didn’t happen at a fancy yoga studio or fitness club—at a facility that provided bottled water or towels or complementary chair massages or expensive workshops. The magic happened in the living room of an acquaintance. The humble donation was five dollars per class. We didn’t have blocks, straps, or mats—only a few regular blankets and lots of floor. It was not love at first sight, but then I am not a love-at-first-sight kind of guy.
My guru’s accent wasn’t Indian but very Cuban. He didn’t have a Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram account—he didn’t even have a computer. He didn’t have a car, either, so every week some of his students would give him a ride to the studio so he could teach us.
Self. I was new to yoga—just a few months into it. I was feeling great—on top of the world. I was young, strong, fairly flexible, and the postures came to me naturally. But my mind was so convoluted. I was running through the poses, almost like eating without chewing. Trying to run before knowing how to walk. Breathe? Who cares about breath? I’m breathing now, right? I was speeding through the sequences, getting to the postures before my teacher’s cue, as if that were a sign of proficiency. I thought that getting into the asanas more quickly made them more effective. I was trying to make a statement to all the people around me. I got here first. I am the one—like the first man on the moon. I see this behavior a lot among my students. Often those who rush into the postures so quickly are the ones who don’t breathe properly, have poor alignment, and have yet to discover the deeper meaning of practice.
She always sets her mat at the same spot. She rarely takes a break. She is really into the practice. Her attention is there, she moves with ease, she explores some of the variations I offer, but she takes her time to enter the postures. She is present for her practice. It seems to me that she has been practicing for quite a while. Sometimes a teacher can sense a student’s particular approach to the practice, what kind of connection they have to the teachings. I’m always interested to see what I can learn about my students’ lives simply by observing how they move and express themselves through the postures. This woman really enjoys her time on the mat. And that, for me, is like catnip. It inspires me to become a better teacher every day.
I am glad and grateful that I learned postures and anatomy and that I became friends with my breath. Even though I was taught that yoga is a “way of being” and a dynamic meditation—and I did at times feel it in my heart and my body—for the most part the meaning and the feeling of true meditation were elusive, random, sporadic, and inconsistent.
It was only after I had been immersed in yoga for many years that I acquired a taste for sitting meditation. Even though I’m still a novice meditator, I can see how the practice is shaping me into a more conscious, healthier adult.
Here are some of the things I’ve noticed about myself that are changing, emerging, and dissolving since I’ve been maintaining a regular meditation practice.
I questioned everything—from academic choices, toothpaste choices, work choices, love choices, underwear choices, spiritual choices, to breakfast choices—except my own grief and sorrow. I mentally repeated dialogues, circumstances, events, and words, as if by repeating them over and over I would miraculously be able to change the natural course of events.
The truth can be painful to digest sometimes. There is no Pepto-Bismol for the heart— only time, the Ayurvedic cure.
My everyday life and responsibilities kept me going. My two cats greeting me every night by the door, waiting to be fed, kept me real. Taking myself to the movies on Friday nights became the highlight of my week.