Yogic Lent

The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

Good ex-catholic that I am I still remember the big stuff; Christmas…oh, well just Christmas and oddly enough Lent. And to be completely honest I think I just remember Lent because of Mardi Gras. You don’t grow up a stone’s throw from Mobile, Al (the actual birthplace of Mardi Gras) and a hop, skip, and jump from there over to New Orleans (Mardi Gras central) without knowing when Fat Tuesday is, the feast before the famine, a.k.a. Ash Wednesday and Lent.

When I was a young little thing in Catholic school I remember diligently trying to think of something to give up for Lent, something that would be “big enough” to impress my teachers but not so big that I suffered all too much. I guess even back then I took issue with causing suffering for the sake of causing suffering.

Disclaimer: I do actually fully understand the reasoning behind the Lenten period, I just don’t agree with it and this is my blog and my history so I can be as snarky as I want. I have been removed from the Catholic Church longer than I was ever a part of it, I have no beef with them and I think, at its core, it is a beautiful religion. It’s just not for me.

After I left the Catholic school of my youth and before I found yoga I was floundering around eastern religions and philosophies as well as pagan rituals blended with Native American spirituality. I was lost and craving faith, trying on religions like shoes and walking in them for a few miles, or scooping in pieces of beliefs into a bowl like a baker in search of the perfect cookie recipe; praying for a sweet, fulfilling morsel of God that left me wanting more. But nothing worked and really that’s another blog all together, I bring it up because throughout all this searching I still clung to some of my Catholic tendencies. I went to Mass every now and again to feel a little peace and see people connecting with their Community and with God, in times of stress I would go light candles and say a prayer or meditate in the pews, I even said my mantras on rosary beads. So while I still appreciated some of the rituals Catholicism offered I still could never get my head wrapped around Lent. So I tweaked it.

I decided that instead of suffering for 40 days that we should do something good for 40 days. I asked my Mother is she wanted to get up and walk with me every morning for 40 days, I donated a dollar a day for 40 days to my favorite charity, I tried to kick start a real meditation practice by meditation every day for 40 days, or a simple as I made sure I hugged someone everyday for 40 days. So how about it?

It doesn’t have to be anything profound or grand but do you think for 40 days you could do one positive thing a day. Either for your health, or for your family or Community, or maybe for your mind; allow yourself 10 minutes a day with that book that’s been sitting by your bed of months, planning your spring garden, do a little yoga… For me I’m filing this year’s Lenten promise under “mindfulness.” I’m getting ready to go back to yoga school in April so I want to be in a good place mentally and physically so I’m stepping up my mindfulness about my practice. Are here times when I could be practicing but am not? Just how much do I let my mind wander when I’m on the mat? What really is the best time of day for me to start a meditation regime? I’m not binding myself to an unobtainable goal only to beat myself up when I fall short of it, nope this year I’m just stepping up my game. A little extra awareness to get me over my February hump of Seasonal Affectation Disorder Disease and general malaise and move me into a coming Spring celebration. And as for that whole recipe thing, I’m getting closer to the perfect bite!

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!