Tapas, not just an appetizer!

When I was in yoga school each student was given a yama or niyama, which are self-restraints and observations along the 8 limbed path of yoga, too write about in our final paper. My niyama was Tapas which is the practice of austerity, but there is also an element of heat to this niyama often described as a burning desire to purify the body and mind. {The word "tapas" comes from the Sanskrit verb "tap" which means "to burn." The traditional interpretation of tapas is "fiery discipline," the fiercely focused, constant, intense commitment necessary to burn off the impediments that keep us from being in the true state of yoga (union with the universe)}. As I read aloud to my class my paper on tapas I likened it to when I was a child and my father burned the grass in the yard during the fall, I remember the looks of intrigue on some of my fellow students faces. I guess not everyone’s father willingly set his yard on fire. I haven’t actually thought about that moment in quite some time but recently it has come ‘searing’ back into my memory. Though I haven’t really ever forgotten about tapas, fire seems to play a strong role in my life; either using the sacred smoke of sage to clear energy or having a small fire and throwing in affirmations and prayers into the flames to be engulfed and transformed and taken to the heavens with the smoke. So it would seem that tapas still plays a role in my life. But there was an imbalance in my relationship to fire and I didn’t even realize this until two rather unrelated moments in my life suddenly rammed themselves together in my mind.

First: I was having a bad night. It was one of those nights were you feel like the last thread you’ve been holding onto was about to snap or worse has already snapped and you have forgotten how to get back up. And in an act I’m not terribly good at I called a friend and asked for help. As we sat there on my kitchen floor my friend pressed her fingers into my chest and said “you have a fire in there, and that fire is you, it makes you you and don’t you dare change that!” it was not subtle. And it was exactly what I needed to hear so I cried a little harder and thanked her for her friendship. But the meaning didn’t sink it yet, that took another few days.

The second thing and this one is way more subtle: I spent some time this weekend in the car going here and there and taking the country roads. Along the road side I could see the charred remains of prairies and even heard a story on NPR about a woman’s love of burning prairie remnants, how we use and more importantly control this element of destruction to cleanse the land of encroaching wildlife. Freeing up the land and nutrients so the indigenous plant species can reclaim and thrive. This is exactly what I wrote about 5 years ago in yoga school. That’s when it all came together.

The thing is, I’ve been disrespecting my own fire for quite some time now. It’s no secret that last year I went through a deep depression even though I had amazingly wonderful things happening in my life; I bought a home and I opened my studio, but I was living on the fumes of my fire. I wasn’t recharging, not eating well, not sleeping because I was working so hard to build this life I’m living. And the fire smoldered out and I was cold ashes before I even knew what was happening. I was in no way a controlled burn. So when I started coming out of my depression it was as if I could feel a spark kindling inside me, my fire was coming back and I was elated. Sometime in January I hit the balance, I had just enough of my fire, my passion back in time for a yoga retreat and what a weekend it was! I came home and was practically floating, when I closed my eyes I could see the light form my inner fire connecting me with everything around me. That! That connection that is the essence of yoga, of any faith or religion, I finally got it and more than just got it I felt it! I was riding the crest of a beautiful wave. But after a year of living and struggling what I didn’t have was discipline, I had no more tools to harness my fire. So my fire consumed me and I was burned and in my brilliant burn out I also burned some people I care deeply for. So in not very much I time I had experienced the slow meandering death of fire when it has nothing to replenish itself and the super nova like explosion of fire unbridled that leaves you very much like a black hole.

So fire… Having gone through living in harmony with fire, the slow extinguishing and death of it, a rebirth and yet another death of this essential element I have learned this: fire needs to be respected for both its destructive and purifying qualities. Now I can see how to reach back to the tools yoga has taught me to first cultivate and then to harness my own inner fire. I can relearn how to use the destructive power to rid my life and practice of useless and even harmful aspects and I can embrace the purifying heat by recognizing the open space fire leaves and fill it with positive change. It’s not instantaneous, it will take time and effort but fire is a running theme in my life I just need to get it back on my mat and out of my yard.

Small Change

The signs of spring are showing; bit by bit the snow banks are receding, the calls of cranes are heard as they migrate back north and if you look closely at the tops of the trees you can see the faint haze of color like faded watercolors. The change is so gradual that we may not even take it in fully until one day we wake up and we’re surrounded by green. Not all change happens in this drawn out time line but many things do, especially the creative process.

I was recently listening to an interview with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love about her arduous struggle to find the title for that book. She had finished the writing after many years and was tossing one bad title after another before the right one came along. In the interview she likened this process to a story she heard about Robert Frost and his writing of The Road Less Traveled, in her version of Frost’s tale he had been working long and hard on another poem, diligently toiling away day after day. Then one day he woke up sat down a t his desk and wrote, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…” and the rest is history. She said of Frost’s and her own struggle that finding that perfect fit was almost like a reward for all the work that came prior. Well, I hope so.

Since the start of the year I’ve redefined my “job” as far as yoga goes, thinking of myself less as Yoga Teacher and more as Studio Owner. My days start early, up to the studio with the sun to work in my new office upstairs at the studio. One may not think there’s much to be done to up there but the hours seem to fill rather efficiently; whether it’s advertising, an endless stream of email follow ups or the studio itself. It feels like the last four weeks have been packed with countless little “projects” on the building itself. Small things, changes I’m not really even sure anyone will notice so why do it. Maybe I’m holding out hope for that one golden nugget, like Ms. Gilbert and Mr. Frost got or maybe, for me there is no nugget to be had. After all the effort is the yoga.

Just like with asana we make tiny changes to our body’s posture, our teachers walking around pulling your arm a fraction of an inch. Are such minor adjustments really worth it? The short answer; yes. Yes, because it’s the tiny adjustments over time that make our practice move forward. Over time these small details line up sort of until one day we are deeper into an asana than we’ve ever been, or our feet are suddenly over our heads with no fear of gravity. I know these changes are there, whether it’s the new ceiling tiles I’ve been replacing or the longer spines my students show in Parsvokonasana (extended side angle). They may go unnoticed to most but the work is why we do this practice and just like the return of the cranes to the landscape, they can mark the beginning profound transformation.

Yoga in Neverland

Podcast junkie that I am, I was listening to some recent episodes of To The Best Of Our Knowledge while working at the studio when I stumbled across one called “The Uses of Enchantment.” It featured stories by Neil Gaiman, Salman Rushdie and one about fairies of all things. It was more entertaining than thought provoking but in this current time of struggle and ongoing winter I found the levity of the hour refreshing. The controversy in Madison is felt very strongly here in my tiny town that combined with the rollercoaster of weather that is late winter/early spring in Wisconsin there does seem to be an air of discontent afoot. We all seem to be just trudging along waiting for something to give, before a morning class students discussed the protest at the Capitol and the winter pledge drive for Public Radio, which just saw its funding slashed by budget cuts and we all seemed a little exhausted. So after class when one of the students said how glad she was for yoga because she was struggling to find some peace in all of this turmoil I was overcome with gratitude. Peace of mind is one of the biggest reasons people come to the mat and as thankful I was that she had found some I was also thankful for another thing that happened in class today; we fell on our faces. We fell on our faces and we laughed.

It wasn’t any special class but I found myself moved to bring lightness to my teaching which I try to do especially when practicing arm balances. We were working on Parsva Bakasana, side crow, in which you sort of scrunch down into a little ball, turn to the side and then balance on your hands, for most beginners (and even myself) you don’t wind up to far off the mat so as I was demonstrating I felt my balance falter and all to willingly tipped forward and let my forehead hit the floor, “and then you fall on your face and laugh.” And we did, and it’s one of those things that happen in a yoga class that when you are all working on something challenging together your efforts are shared, supported and celebrated. A brief up draft in a time of heaviness.

That evening back at the studio as I cut and pasted paper print outs onto pieces of cardboard, listening to stories of fairy worlds, forgotten deities and even Neverland I felt childlike for a moment. It was like being 8 years old working on a school art project and just knowing the teacher was going to love my creation. When in reality I’m a pretty fully formed adult and hoping my DIY signage doesn’t actually look like an 8 year old made it. But that's just one of the lessons yoga has taught me, that even though the outcome is important the effort is the yoga and the effort should be joyous. Yoga can be a very sacred practice and it can offer profound peace, but it doesn’t have to be solemn. It can also teach us how sacred laughter is and reminds us that when you look at the world through the eyes of a child there are countless things to smile at.

We All Deserve Teachers

I’ve been thinking about the protest happening in Madison over Unions and teachers and how amazing it is and how it’s the perfect demonstration of Community. Community is very important to me, I grew up with the “it takes a village…” mindset. Teachers are such an important part of any village, teachers of any kind; school teachers, the elders, those who lead by example. It’s this idea that got me to thinking about yoga.

There are great spiritual leaders off in the mountains living in solitude, meditating for 20 hours a day, living on the scarce resources the Himalayas have to offer. And right now all I can think is, why? I say this knowing that there are people who will be enraged and offended by this so let me just say I appreciate the integrity of these masters, I just don’t understand. When there is so much turmoil in the world I wish some of the great yogis would come down from the mountain and go meditate in the street. How amazing would it be if a mob of yogis took to the streets and meditated for peace and understanding. Live by example but live in the Community where your actions can be seen and make an impression on those who may need it.

I teach yoga, and at times I feel utterly unworthy of doing this. There are times when I feel like a total sham, standing in front of my students and asking them to have compassion and to take care of themselves, when sometimes I can’t even muster the motivation to take my vitamins. Times like this I want to run to the hills and cast off all “worldly” things. But who would be left to unlock the studio when someone wants to practice yoga? So I stay and not because I think I’m the only person who can teach yoga in town or because I have enlightenment to share but because I love my Community and I think showing up is important. And as long as there are people who want a yoga teacher and are comfortable practicing with a teacher who’s still on her own journey, who could use a teacher herself, who falters more often than she likes and has just a dash of a southern accent than I’ll show up.

What is Believing Anyway?

I have the word “believe” pasted on a collage in my yoga room at home, currently it’s situated on so that with every lift and swan dive I see that piece of art and the word ‘believe’ swimming in a sea of yellow. For the past few weeks believing has been my theme, I was in the midst of a great awareness and peace, and keenly attuned to just how many things were possible for my life. And then I got knocked off my game, I lost my peace and my sense of possibility. It was a low that took my breath away; as deep and dark as my previous weeks had been light and high. So what does a yogi do, practice. Sure my body was in pain and my brain was ticking like a metronome on speed but this is the work, this is the practice. So to the mat I went. I stood in front of that collage of all the things I hoped to manifest into my life and looked for something to dedicate my practice to. In this collage there are words like “keep is simple” “meditative state” “blessed be” and of course “believe.” I stared a that word for a few moments almost feeling betrayed by it, I felt the heat of anger stirring in my abdomen, like it was the believing that lifted me up only to drop me back to earth with vengeance. But ‘believe’ is only a word, so I closed my eyes, took a few deep breathes and began my practice with the simple breath mantra: “accept, surrender.” With every inhale I accepted where I am and the responsibility I have for where I am and with every exhale I surrendered to where I am and let go of the struggle to move forward.

So the yoga ended and sat for a few moments sealing my practice with a little meditation and what I felt was fear. I checked in with fear, which I will say is a very scary thing, to go into that fear to revel in it in hopes of understanding why it’s there. I took an inhale and accepted my fear, I took an exhale and surrendered and let the tears come forth. I had realized that it was fear that was keeping me from believing, fear keeping me from jumping off the cliff and believing I can fly. And for a moment I felt lifted, no I didn’t immediately fall back in to that blissful state of existence I’d been in weeks earlier, but this is the work, this is the practice. Every moment builds on the next, every time we touch on something good it gets a little easier to find out way back there. Just like in our physical practice, we work on arm balances and inversions even if we think they are beyond our reach. We practice, we accept that our feet or still on the ground and we surrender the effort we are making to lift off. I have had quite a few students come to the mat for the first time (or first few months even) with fear and over time I watch that fear transform into believing in their selves and their practices. And on really good days I see their first flight.