Mindfulness Yoga

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Mindfulness Yoga Page 12

by Frank Jude Boccio


  The first three exercises here focus our attention on the breath. “Short” and “long” are shorthand expressions for all the qualities of the breath that we may discover once we begin to pay attention to it. Our breath may be long, or short, even or uneven, rough or smooth, heavy or light. And our practice is simply to see how it is without manipulating it.

  In focusing on the breath in this way, we begin to see how the breath and mind are intimately related. Our mind affects our breathing and our breathing affects our mind. In observing our breath we are observing our mind. Also, as our breath is a function of our body, we begin to see that in observing our breath we are observing our body. So in this very simple practice, we are already bringing about the “yoga” or union of body, breath, and mind.

  Please do not confuse this practice with the practice of pranayama as it is taught in most yoga classes. Most forms of pranayama involve the control and manipulation of the breath. Anapanasati accomplishes many of the same results of such controlled breathing by simply letting the breath be as it is, but at the same time giving it your full attention.

  The sheer act of paying attention to the breath will affect the breath. Awareness has an amazingly powerful transformative effect, and this becomes apparent early on in your practice when you simply observe how the breath enters and leaves your body. Remember, this isn’t about consciously controlling or attempting to change your breathing patterns. As you pay attention, you will see the quality of your breathing change. Not necessarily in a linear way, but over time, there will be ever greater calmness; the breath grows deeper and slower.

  Even while just sitting and observing your breath you will quickly see how the breath is constantly changing. Most obvious is its change in direction. First it comes in, then it goes out. You may become aware that there is a little gap between the in- and out-breaths, and a little gap between the out- and in-breaths. The gaps may or may not be equal in duration, just as the in-and-out flow of the breath may or may not be equal in duration. From one breath to another there may be great changes in depth. The breath may move along shallowly for a while, and then a big, heaving sigh moves through the body. It’s much like the waves at the shore, some rush in and break with great movement and drama, while some just trickle in. If you find watching the breath boring, you are simply not paying enough attention!

  This mere recognition of the breath is really the basis of all the exercises we will be doing. Right from the start we are cultivating a mind free from reactivity and aggression. We are not imposing our will on the breath, but learning how to practice full acceptance of what is.

  In the third exercise within this first group, we expand our field of awareness to include the whole body. Many practitioners, teachers, and commentaries, perhaps as a result of placing an overemphasis on the attainment of the concentrative states, the jhanas, have denied that the “whole body” is the whole body of the practitioner. They have asserted instead that “whole body” refers to the whole body of the breath. Even many of the most well-known and respected commentaries instruct us to focus on the tip of the nose and not to follow the breath into the body. The reason most often given is that the body is too large an object for us to concentrate on. These commentators interpret the word kaya (body) as “breath-body,” and they say that we are not to observe the entire physical body and that the word “entire” refers to the beginning, middle, and end of each breath. Yet in practicing the first two exercises, the practitioner is already practicing awareness of the “breath-body,” for how else would one know if the breath was long or short if they weren’t paying attention to the whole breath?

  The first tetrad of the Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing is related to the First Establishment of Mindfulness, which is mindfulness of the body. It is a natural progression to go from the breath to the body as we continue to observe the breath because, if we truly pay attention, we begin to see that the whole body breathes! Nowhere in either sutra are we told to concentrate our attention on the tip of the nose, and nowhere in either sutra are we told that we should not concentrate on the whole physical body.

  In any event, in practicing asana, it would be foolish not to include the whole body as our object of meditation. And when we do so, we begin to see the true intimacy between the breath and the body. In any forward bend, if we look to our breath, we will see that not just the belly rises, but the whole back rises and falls as the ribs expand and contract with each breath. In COBBLER, we see that inhalations increase the sensations of stretching in the groins, while the exhalations reduce the sensations. Even as we sit in SIMPLE CROSSED-LEG POSE and observe the whole body, we will see that the breath subtly rises up from the pelvis, lifting the shoulders up and back, the head bobbing gently like a cork on the surface of a lake as we inhale, and then how it all drops back down as we exhale. Now, none of this needs to be exaggerated in order for us to feel it. We just pay close attention to what is really happening. And it is subtle, perhaps not anything anyone else would be able to see if they were watching you. But this constant movement is always happening. Life is movement, breath is movement, and one of the first things we can begin to see for ourselves is that there is movement even in stillness. And as our awareness deepens we can also begin to see for ourselves how there is stillness in the midst of movement. In the words of Lao Tsu, “Stillness in stillness is not real stillness. Stillness in activity—that is real stillness.”

  Before looking ahead into the fourth exercise, I would like to say a few words about moving the body when it is the object of our meditation. In the Theravada tradition—for instance, in walking meditation—we are encouraged to move very slowly. In one lineage, the instruction may be to let the breath set the pace and synchronize the movements of the legs with the breath. As the in-breath arises, you raise first the heel, then the sole, and then the ball of the foot. Move the foot forward as the breath continues. Then, as the exhalation begins, place the foot on the ground and wait for the next inhalation, taking the same kind of step now with the other foot. Alternatively, one may be taught to lift, move, and place one foot on the in-breath, and then lift, move, and place the other foot on the out-breath.

  An even slower method is to just raise the heel of the right foot on the in-breath, with the toes still touching the ground. You leave the foot in this position as the exhalation happens. Then, with the next in-breath, the foot is raised and moved forward and placed on the ground. With the exhalation, the body’s weight is shifted onto that foot, completing the step.

  This last method, much more complex than either of the other methods, really requires strong and steadfast concentration. The whole point is simply to walk, letting each step be an end in itself. Thich Nhat Hanh offers a gatha (short verse for recollection) that can be used in walking meditation: “I have arrived,” as you step out with the right foot. “I am home,” as you step with the left foot.

  Why do we bother with this? As the Buddha said, a whole cosmos arises and passes away continually within this “fathom-long body.” When we slow down, we can begin to see this process much more clearly.

  Now, I have heard several Zen teachers denigrate this style of practice, saying that mindfulness should be able to be maintained while moving naturally. They say that slow movement practice is “self-conscious” and deviates from simple awareness. They say that the recipe for living is simply to do what we’re doing: “Don’t be self-conscious about it; just do it.”

  I would reply, with due respect, that these teachers seem to have missed the whole point and purpose of this particular practice, and what they are saying is only half right, insofar as one should be able to maintain mindfulness at all movement speeds and mindfulness is never self-consciousness. While Thich Nhat Hanh is well known for his advocacy of slow walking meditation, I have joined in with several of his monks and nuns in running meditation at the Green Mountain Dharma Center in Vermont.

  When we move slowly, observing the movements and sensations as they arise, we are no mor
e “self-conscious” than when we “just do it.” In fact, many people have reported that in slow walking meditation, the sense of foot and leg may actually dissolve and all that remains is the movement. To me, this is exactly the “dropping of body and mind” that Zen teaching describes.

  I believe teachers who reject slow-movement practice are overreacting. Out of the fear that such practice may become “self-conscious” they miss out on the valuable lessons such practice can offer us, while those who practice slow-movement practice can still, after all, choose to run, hop, skip, and jump as they wish.

  Again, don’t take my word for it, or anyone else’s. Try this simple experiment now. Raise your right hand toward the ceiling. Just do it. Then take it back down. What did you see? What did you experience? Now, raise your right hand to the ceiling very slowly. Take at least thirty seconds to do it. Then take it back down again, just as slowly. Don’t think about it, or try to analyze it. “Just do it”—but very slowly.

  Now, what did you notice; what did you see this time? Were you able to notice the impulse that precedes the movement? The complex mental/physical twinge that sets the arm in motion? Did you see and feel the weight and volume of the arm? Were there any changes in the quality of your mind or breath as the arm slowly rose or descended? Were there mental formations, perhaps of boredom, irritation, curiosity, pleasure? A whole cosmos arises, changes, and passes away in one simple movement, and generally we are completely blind to all of it. Generally, until there has been a deep and real transformation at the base, when we simply “do what we’re doing,” we are merely doing conditioned, habitual actions. Moving slowly allows us to see this more clearly and leads to ceto-vimutti, liberation of the mind. It does this by giving us the time and space to see the constant process of conditioning arising here in this body-mind. And in seeing the conditioning, we can begin the process of freely choosing how to respond, rather than blindly react.

  So in our asana practice, we will work both ways; slowly and more quickly, utilizing as wide a palette as possible so that we can truly develop the second Factor of Awakening, the investigation of dharmas. Neither is better or more advanced. Both offer us the opportunity to awaken. We need to see when each practice is appropriate and just do it.

  So now we come to the fourth exercise of anapanasati. This exercise, “calming the body,” is actually not something you attempt to do, but something that you just let happen. As you practice, you will see that the calming of the body, and of the mind, naturally arises from the practices you have been cultivating—observing the breath and the body. After all, breathing and body are one. Breathing and mind are one. Mind is not something separate that exists independently outside of our body or our breathing. Remember, we are observing “the body in the body.” Mahayana Buddhism puts it this way: subject and object are empty; subject and object are not two. What they are empty of is an independent, separate existence.

  So, simply by practicing consciousness of the breath over time—a few short minutes if you are not particularly stressed, and maybe ten, fifteen, or twenty minutes or more if you are—you will see calmness arising. While the object of this exercise is to bring calmness to the body, because body, breath, and mind are not separate, calmness will arise in the breath, the body, and the mind.

  Sometimes, when we attempt a challenging asana, our breath grows tight and constricted, as does our mind, with fear and resistance. If we are not paying attention, this tightness and constriction creates imbalance and instability. Again, as soon as we notice this we simply place our full attention onto the breath. The breath will become calmer, deeper, and smoother; the body and mind will relax, and the asana will take on a beautiful poetry and life of its own. We may not accomplish the “ideal” form of the asana, but we will have truly practiced yoga.

  In the Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing, the Buddha only offered these four exercises that explicitly relate to the First Establishment of Mindfulness. If we turn to the section of the Sutra on the Establishments of Mindfulness relating to the body, we will learn how to further our practice of “observing the body in the body.”

  In that sutra, the Buddha tells us to observe the inside of the body as well as the outside. As practitioners, we should be aware of the movements and positions of the body: “In whatever position one’s body happens to be, one is aware of the position.” He goes on to specify that we should apply full awareness to whatever we are doing, “bending down or standing up, walking, sitting, or lying down.” He goes so far as to enumerate eating, drinking, dressing, urinating, and defecating, so we can assume that nothing is to be left out. This is important to keep in mind for our asana practice.

  Another way to practice the First Establishment of Mindfulness involves scanning the body, paying attention to every part from the soles of the feet upward and then from the hair on top of the head downward. Yet another practice, one not generally recommended for beginners, is to contemplate one’s own body as a corpse. This is a powerful meditation when one is ready for it, and can be done while lying in the CORPSE POSE (Shavasana). For detailed instruction in this meditation, see Interlude: This Fathom-Long Body (page 131).

  When we combine awareness of breathing with asana practice, we can look to see how movement affects the breath. As you stretch into a posture, do you hold your breath? Does the breath get deeper? Or perhaps more shallow? Does the breath grow slower or more rapid as you do a backbend? We can also begin to see how the breath moves the body. As we stay in a forward bend, for instance, we can see how an in-breath lifts us slightly out of the posture, while the out-breath releases us deeper into it. Simply and constantly applying full awareness to our breath, we come face to face with habitual patterns, face to face with our aversion and our grasping. The important thing to remember is that when such things do arise—and they will!—we are asked to simply observe them and release them. Come back to the breath. As my Zen teacher, Samu Sunim, often says, “Come back to just this, just now, just here.”

  In each asana, we can take the time to scan the body and see where tension is being held, where the body feels strong and stable, and where it feels tenuous. We can observe what parts of the body are active, what parts are passive or receptive. And we can become more aware of the surface of the body as it presses against the floor or another part of your body. In many of the postures, we may even increase our awareness of the inner body as we twist and turn from one side to the other.

  Many of my students, when practicing this way, have expressed a greater engagement with their body; they say they feel more present. Allowing the breath to be natural, following its movement through the body, and letting the breath determine the duration of the movement increased their sense of concentration and led to deeper integration and ease in the postures.

  Others have noted that they experienced some frustration in the face of the challenge to move slowly and that they “couldn’t use the movements or the postures to suppress thoughts.” Until practicing slowly, with the emphasis on natural breathing, they hadn’t even realized that they had been using their asana practice to suppress their thoughts. This may be another advantage of slow movement practice. Remember, the practice here is not to suppress, but neither is it to cling to, or lose yourself in identifying with the thoughts.

  Still other students have said that they have learned to see how resistant they can be to being present, how they were able to see where in the body they are blocking and holding, “rejecting” their experience. And once this insight arose, they often found that in accepting and not rejecting, they experienced more calm and peace.

  In the words of the Buddha, “Come and see for yourself.”

  MINDFULNESS YOGA: SEQUENCE ONE

  THIS FIRST SEQUENCE of Mindfulness Yoga follows the first four exercises relating to the First Establishment of Mindfulness, the body, as described in The Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing.

  I suggest you read through the sequence before doing it the first time so that you can ge
t an understanding about how to work with mindfulness of the body in the body. The photos accompanying the text are designed to aid in familiarizing you with the forms of the asanas. If you are a beginner to the practice of yoga-asana, you may want to skip the asterisked asanas the first time you practice.

  The timing and breath suggestions are just that. See how working by carefully counting the breaths is, and how long that takes. Then try approximating. Based on the average of 15 breaths a minute, the entire sequence can take anywhere from 45 minutes to over an hour and a half if you follow the minimum suggested breath repetitions. I teach classes that last 75 minutes, 90 minutes, and 115 minutes, and have been able to get through the whole sequence in an unhurried way in all of them.

  If working this way, or if asana practice is new for you, I suggest you work with this sequence until you are familiar and comfortable with the practice. While I recommend that one develop a daily practice, you should at least aspire to doing it two to three times a week.

  Please remember that the practice is not the mere “holding” of static postures, but includes the application of effort in the posture (which entails finding the balance between work and relaxation), as well as staying mindful while moving from one posture to another. Let go of any goal, or attainment-minded grasping, and realize that the practice of asana includes the moving into and out of each posture.

 

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