Reading the Gita

You think asana is hard, have you ever tried to read the Bhagavad Gita? I’ve been trying for years, and that’s not an overstatement. I bought my first copy the year I got out of yoga school that was 2007! Now, 3 years later I’m find myself trudging through it once again. This time armed with 3 different versions I ordered from the library hoping I’d find a translation that, for lack of a better term, speaks to me. The thing about reading spiritual text…well there are a few so I’ll list some of my spiritual speed bumps for your consideration.

#1 For this one I’d go so far as to say this is across the board for any religion/spiritual way of life is that the texts were written thousands of years ago in languages no one speaks anymore. They are dead languages and they are ridiculously hard to comprehend. I just know the very, and I mean VERY, basics of Sanskrit and I get boggled by how many variations there are on ways to pronounce and spell just then names of the Deities. The big ones like Siva and Ganesh! And that’s in the actual Sanskrit. Once you get and translator involved all bets are off as far as I’m concerned. Most books I’ve read, even recent books by the Dalai Lama and translated into English, come out so dry or with obvious lack of knowledge of everyday English. Or worse you get them translated in “new age!” Now I come as granola as the next pagan/massage therapist/yoga teach as the next but even I draw the line sometimes. Maybe it’s my love of post modern fiction by the likes of Tom Robbins and Jeanette Winterson that I just can’t handle poorly constructed, wispy, un-engaging sentences. So there’s that problem.

#2 It’s not all in nuggets. At the end of every yoga class I sum up the meaning of the class or offer up and inspiration in the form of a quote. I call them yoga nuggets, they are short and clear and usually elicit a smile or giggle or thoughtful sigh, they make you think, or at least I like to think they make my students think. But when you are reading text like the Bhagavad Gita, it’s not all 20 word quips. No, no, no there are pages of things to wade through; sometimes they’re pages full of so much profundity that you are mired down and your brain can’t absorb it all or it’s setting or the 3^rd time something is being expounded on. Sometimes that extra explanation of a point is needed but maybe you got it the first or second time and are now day dreaming about what you’re going have for lunch.

#3 This one may just be my own personal problem but it’s a difficult one for me. I don’t soak up knowledge from the page I need more than that. I need discussion, experiments daily interaction with the theories and teachings. But I live in a tiny town and am the only yoga teacher here, somewhere lurking out there are more teachers and even some Buddhist but I haven’t connected with them yet. Which is frustrating when you are on a spiritual path and would like, if not a teacher, then someone to walk with you for while?

So those are the challenges I am faced with when all I’m trying, in essence, to do is sit down and read a book. What’s the answer? Well the same answer as when you come up on a challenge in your asana class; practice. Practice. Dedication. Self surrender. All the same principles as with our physical expression of yoga. Even if it means I read the same 3 pages over and over again for days, we do the same asanas over and over again until we “master” them and the you know what we still do them over and over again every day. Because yoga IS the journey not the destination and the Bhagvad Gita is a very important (and challenging) step on that journey.

Community As Such

What is community? I almost hesitate to begin this entry because community is such a commonly used word and everyone one has their own definition. But then again that can be said of many other words as well such as: family, religion, truth and love. So I’m not going to go on about what I think community is but rather share a few instances when I felt community; either as a part of it or as witness to it.

The Village Community

I’ll start with my village; among myself and my siblings we’ve always be partial to the saying “it takes a village to raise a child.” Having grown up with a broad extended family which I lovingly refer to as “the granola heads” our extended family included Catholics, Buddhists, Atheists, Artists, Musicians, Laborers and more. They were a tribe. And they instilled in me (and I think for my brothers and sisters as well) the belief that you draw to the people you need in life too you, those people are your village/community and that community becomes your family. So after I left home I went out into the world looking for my place, I knew I was going to be a gypsy for while because I held on to the belief that when I found the right place the universe would let me know. And 10 years later I did. I settled into a tiny town (so tiny in fact that it is technically a village, no joke) with an amazing community. Here I mean community as the town itself; the shops, the local artist, the farms the people behind the counters at the bank. It’s that kind of “soul” of a place that people allude to when talking about where they live. And I also settled into a nice community which you could call my family of friends. We all pitch in to help each other out be it taking someone’s kid to after school activities or watching someone’s dog or even dropping dinner over when someone has had a busy day. We look out for each other. A community recognizes its own needs within itself and fills them without question or hesitation.

The Collective Community

Recently I discovered another kind of community. I was off on a 2 ½ day yoga conference so excited to meet other yogis and other teachers and most excitedly to simply be a student for a while. I promised myself I would be more outgoing in the hopes of meeting some people I could develop friendships with. And I did connect with a few people I hope to stay in touch with but what I found more interesting was the kind of instant and fleeting friendships that were created. A lovely sort of 15 minute friendship lived out in the time between workshops and speakers. These brief encounters lifted my spirits but they did not symbolize community for me, that happened when I was silent, most often right before a workshop started, sitting and gazing around at rooms packed with yogis all with the purpose of practicing and learning together. In fact a few instructors had us turn to the people around us and say “Namaste” to acknowledge this fact, it did on few instances bring me to tears. I’ve always felt like yoga is a gift and there I was surrounded by nearly 400 people who felt the same way. But not as though it was a gift to me or to them but a gift to give away and share and love and revel in for one weekend together and on out into the world after that. See we were a community of communities, we all came from different places as representatives of our own community; some as students, some as teachers, some just curious. And we came together to grow and strengthen as one and then disperse taking with us new tools and knowledge back to our own communities to grow and strengthen them.

The Unwavering Community

This morning I saw community defined. I’m in Erie visiting my Grandmother who last year moved into an assisted living facility. She’s not doing to bad but over the past few months she’s started a downward spiral that has sent shock waves of worry and grief through the family. The thing that made me draw my breath in with anxiety was when I heard she had stopped going to morning Mass. My Grandmother is a devout Catholic and she’s what I like to call “old school Catholic.” She doesn’t judge, she doesn’t preach she simply embodies love, forgiveness and compassion. To my mind, the way religion is supposed to be. My grandmother’s church is her community. They rallied around her when my Grandfather died with loving arms and prayers for peace. So when her body finally weakened to the point where she could no longer get up and visit her community any along her community got up and came to her. I had no idea they were doing this until this morning when I was visiting her and a woman walked in who was obviously not a nurse. I was unfamiliar to her as well so she assumed I was there for physical therapy she said she’d quickly give my Grandmother communion and leave us be. When I heard that I nearly cried, I explained that I was her visiting granddaughter and she should take her time. As I sat there listening to her read my Grandmother prayers I did in fact cry. Not because I was sad, though that was mixed in there too, but because I was blown away by this act of kindness within a community. The woman told me how much they all love my Grandmother and miss her and how lucky I am to have her genes in me. I thanked her from the bottom of my heart when she left. She had brought kindness and hope not just to my Grandmother this morning but to me as well and when I leave here I know now that not only does my Grandmother have her family here to love and support her but she’s also got one amazing community. Amen!