Chop Wood, Carry Water

by Jamie Shane

  It is the ability to do all of these things—or none of these things—in complete internal stillness. I don’t know the Greek word for that. But I do know that without that search for internal quietude, the practice of yoga postures is nothing more than basic gymnastics. For, if the mind is still chattering its inanities at you while you are working out that glorious Warrior 2, and your eyes are darting hither thither and yon to see what everybody else is doing, you miss the opportunity to explore the point.

  We manipulate the body in yoga practice so that the mind has someplace still to go. We show the mind what it means to be still by keeping the body still. When your feet are over your head, and your breath is easy and slow, the fact that Sally never left you that really important message about the change of plans next Tuesday in Albequerque, and oh, dear, did I remember to call the hotel, and pack that red sweater, bla, bla, bla….seems remarkably inane. Something more important is at hand, say, I don’t know…the fact that your feet are over your head? And if you don’t pay attention to what you are doing, you just might topple like a timber Oak?

  This effort towards internal silence is what begins to makes a yogi a yogi and not just a gymnast. It takes time, which is why it is called a practice. After a while, that effort will fade away. The body begins to move of its own accord; It knows where it has to go and what it has to do. The mind follows suit; It has learned to shut up and just be. Now the real yoga begins.

  Yoga is finding yourself in a space of blissful silence with a strange and wonderful understanding: Every instant of your life is saturated with God. And not the God that lives in a church or in a book, but the God that lives in your heart. That’s as far as you have to go, just into the shining depths of your very own heart. But if you aren’t quiet, if you aren’t still, if you don’t look, that realization will quickly suffocate in the senseless bull of the everyday. It is the search for this connection that creates the Sat Nam—the truth.

  Lucky, lucky me, that I get not only to experience it but to teach it and to talk about it. I guess that is what makes me a gymnosophist.

  Without the naked part….

  58

  The choice of topics for this column is not a wholly personal one. I do not have a list of all the things I want to discuss with ready dates. Nor do I stare at a blank computer screen until something conjures itself up. I talk to my people. All week long I talk to people of my tribe and listen for the topic of the week. My job is to be the mirror and reflect back to you all whatever topic is offered by the collective.

  This week I got (and not just from those I know): What does that have to do with yoga? Oh, grasshoppers…..

  Everything is about yoga. It is possible to limit my discussion to this asana or that, how to open one’s hips or re-align one’s spine, but that is not a fully accurate depiction of yoga. It is on topic, but off point. I could also relegate myself to the doctrines of yoga philosophy, Yoga Sutras, proper Sanskrit pronunciation, etc., but there are numerous writers out there that do just that far, far better than I. Again, on topic, off point.

  The point here is the perspective. All of the facets of a yoga practice come together to give one a yogic perspective. It is this perspective that has given yoga it’s longevity and relevance. It is this perspective that we discuss. Without this perspective, yoga is just pieces and parts. Pieces and parts that probably would have gone the way of jazzercise and Odin long ago. It is this thread of perspective that links yoga to everyday living. That forms a lens for us to filter our perceptions through so that we may arrive at the healthiest decisions. One must endeavour to live yoga rather than just do yoga. Ergo, everything is about yoga.

  Yoga is discovering and expressing that which is authentic to ourselves. And then moving beyond into integration. If you are angry, be angry. But then learn where that anger really came from and integrate that understanding into yourself so that the next time you encounter it, the expression can be more than reflex anger. This kind of behaviour leads you into an awareness of self that allows for healthy growth. This is yoga. No mat required.

  Living yoga means moving away from the herd mentality and coming to a clear, centered state. The perspective helps you see more clearly that which is true and that which is merely advertising. You can begin to see what it is that you need and differentiate it from what you are being fed. In this way you become the master of your own destiny and can begin to effect change in the world. This is yoga. You don’t need Sanskrit to learn it.

  Wearing yogic lenses means opening your eyes up to your personal responsibility. There is great beauty and great ugliness in life and we are responsible, each and every one of us for the effects of our most basic choices. From politics to light bulbs, our smallest personal choices have great effects on the state of the world. It is easy to remain ignorant. It is noble to participate in wise choosing. This is yoga. You need never touch your toes to master it.

  Everybody does yoga, and yoga is relevant to everything in one way or another. Be it automobiles, cattle farming or women’s underpants, yogic perspective has a place in the discussion. It is so critically important that people begin to move into this way of thinking whether they believe in yoga or not. We as a people stand on the brink. Whether that brink is one of evolution or disaster is still a mystery.

  In the end, it will all boil down to perspective.

  59

  There is a philosophical concept in the practice of yoga that has taken me a few years to grasp. I used to resist it with an understated passion until I realized that it wasn’t the concept itself that I had difficulty with, but my own personal interpretation of it’s meaning. Seva or service, is an integral building block of a yogic life. And, as a recovering food service employee, you can well imagine how I reacted to integrating that one.

  And, if you can’t, let me demonstrate. “Service?! As if I don’t spend my entire day fetching things for people, cleaning up after them or asking what I can do for them! How much more service can one person possibly do? You have got to be kidding!”

  Yes, yes, I know, shocking! But we all have dirty yoga laundry hiding under the theoretical bed. Look deep, surely you can see some of yourself in there. In a busy life it seems that we are always rushing around, doing something for others with barely enough energy left for ourselves. And now here I go with the concept of service, asking you to do more.

  But here is where my misconception took me down the wrong path. Service is not the idea of doing just one thing for just one person. It does not always mean taking time out of your schedule to volunteer at the shelter, library or schools. Being in service is not always performing a concrete action that you can show to your friends and say, “Look at what a good person I am. I have served the less fortunate.”

  Truly offering service is living with the understanding that we are all here to serve the greater good. We can help others without ever once reaching for our wallet. We can be in service to humanity without ever taking a minute out of our hectic schedules. Being in service is a state of mind that leaves you open and connected to the flow of human ideas, needs and possibilities.

  For example, you are acting out of service when you pick up a piece of glass on the street. That simple action will help whoever was intended to step on that glass; you have done them a service. You are in service when you let some poor sap pull out in front of you in traffic. You are in service when you reach for something on the top shelf for a little old lady. You are in service when you dig a quarter out of your pocket for someone who can’t find one in the checkout line. Service has no hard and fast rules, nowhere does it say that you have to be a saint to serve humanity.

  Yes, we would all like to see more people dig in to help those who cannot help themselves. But realize that, at some point in time, that unfortunate one has been you. Just because you have a home, a job, a duty does not mean that you are immune to needing help. That could be a shoulder to cry on, it could be a babysitter, it could be a ride to work. It could be kindness from a stra
nger when your day just stinks. When someone helps you—no matter how small—they are offering you their very goodness. They are sharing with you the very best part of themselves.

  Service is a lifelong attitude that allows you to open your heart to our situation. We all need help sometimes. We all need kindness and understanding from one another. From the simplest to the most complex conceptions of this ideal, we are all in need of its healing, connective force. Start simply and start small and see how far your service can lead you.

  60

  My mother has always collected junk jewelry. Bangles, spangles, beads and what-not, you can well imagine how delightful dress-up was for me as a child.

  But unlike these days, where every necklace has it’s place, when I was younger the jewelry box was more often than not a giant repository of whatever. At the end of the day everything was simply tossed in the box willy-nilly--very laissez-faire. Periodically, I would come to her with a fantastic tangle of necklaces wrapped in a series of knots so intricate they must have been crafted by the Fates themselves. As only a child can, I would hand them to her and walk away, infinitely confident that she would sort it out for me.

  These days I am the de-tangler. And it isn’t beads that I have to sort out, but bodies.

  When properly managed and maintained, the body is a gloriously well-organized collection of parts working together in harmony. Sure, aches and pains and tangles are inevitable, but they are not the perpetual norm.

  It is only through years of carelessness and neglect that the body deteriorates into a big, ol’, stinkin’ mess of knots. Yes, they can eventually be detangled but it takes time and a whole lot of effort.

  In my world, there are a few things that should just be. If you aren’t a hundred, you should be able to sit down or lie down on the floor. You should be able to reach your arms overhead with straight elbows. You should be able to fan out both your fingers and your toes. And that’s just the most basic of the basics. If you can’t do any of the above, my guess is that you deal with some perpetual form of daily body discomfort.

  This jumble of bodily knots is probably the primary reason that I see new students to yoga. Unwittingly, they have just made a mess of things and have brought it to me to fix. Well, that’s what I do. But it doesn’t mean that there isn’t an instant of chagrin when the knot is laid at my mat and I wonder, “Dear Lord, how on earth did this happen?”

  I know how it happens. And that answer never fails to irk me. Sorry, I know I’m supposed to be Miss Yogi-Non-Judgmental, but really. When the body speaks of pain, how do you not listen? If you are continually uncomfortable in your own skin, how do you just let it go? Do you not know that the situation is deteriorating? Enlighten me, please. Because I know the answers, but I don’t get them.

  If you want to avoid catastrophe, the connections must be made. No part of the body works without assistance. If you wriggle your fingers, things happen in your hands. If you move your hands, things happen in your forearms. It’s just how things work. Consequently, if you have injury or tightness in your back, legs, hips, etc., you will eventually have problems all over. If unattended, the body will just work around the problem and adapt. Badly. One neglect will lead to another until you are like that mess of necklaces. Hopelessly tangled and desperate for someone to unravel you.

  Sure, that can be me. But it can also easily be you. And if you stay aware of your body in space, your carriage, your lifestyle, and your injuries—if you stay on the ball—you need never lay a mess at anyone else’s feet. You won’t ever have one to begin with.

  The aches and pains of life are inevitable; Chronic suffering is not. Employ that ounce of prevention before you need the pound of cure and leave that headache waiting in the wings.

  61

  I was asked almost an identical set of questions twice this week, on two separate occasions, by two different individuals. This is not unusual. I answer a lot of questions about yoga quite frequently. They are generally the same questions, and I have a stock answer that covers all the bases and usually does the trick.

  However, these two gentlemen asked me something that I hadn’t ever been asked before. And when I started in on my regular answer, I heard only “bla, bla, bla” coming out of my mouth. I also heard my father—the professor—saying quite clearly, “You aren’t answering the question, kid.”

  It was then that I realized: I can’t answer this question. I simply do not have an answer that will help. And that, I believe, is as it should be. So what did they ask me?

  What is yoga like?

  Um. Well. Shuffle. Shrug. I can’t tell you that. It’s not because I’m being mysterious, grasshopper. Really. I just don’t know what it will be like for you. I know what it is like for me. But I don’t have adequate words to convey that sense. And I have plenty of words, as you all well know. The yoga experience is so personal, so unique, that for me to try to cram it into a box of words is unfair. To it—and to you.

  So let me try to explain it this way: What is an apple like? I can tell you about it’s physical characteristics. I can tell you that it is sweet, juicy and crunchy. I can tell you where it comes from and how it is grown. But does that tell you what an apple is like? Does that tell you about the full, personal experience of eating an apple?

  For me, the texture and weight of an apple reminds me of picking them from an orchard on the North Shore of Massachusetts. My experience of apples is wrapped up in the memory of great friends, a nip in the air, flame-coloured leaves and the feel of hay under my butt as we ride out to the trees. I love everything about this memory, even the texture of the cold wind through my sweater. I love apples more for this sweet remembrance than simply the sweet taste.

  The scent of an apple reminds me of watching my grandmother peel a bushel of them for her famous apple strudel. This memory wraps me up in the sensation of family and of tradition. She taught me—and me alone—the secrets of this great dessert. For me, apples will always be as much about love and lineage as they are about juice. Apples will forever be to me autumns and friends and family and love as well as sweet, juicy, crunchy, cool, red, etc.

  But does any of this really tell you what an apple is like? No. Because you have your own memories, your own associations, your own experience of them. Every bite of an apple is a universe of these relationships, individual and unique. Your experience of yoga is much the same. You have to sink your teeth into it to find out what it will be like for you.

  An intellectual understanding of something will only take you so far. You can ask all the questions you like, but there will come a time when you simply have to experience it for yourself. I can’t promise that yoga will be perfect for you. And knowing what I think probably won’t help you make that determination.

  So, what do I think yoga is like? It’s sunshine. Does that help?

  62

  It probably comes as no secret or surprise that I find the human body just fascinating. I would have to, wouldn’t I, to do the work that I do?

  But to me it is so very much more than just the pieces and parts of the anatomy. Sure, it is wise to know how your physical body functions, what is attached to what, what travels where and how. This kind of information helps you to manage this visceral creation in a limited, but valuable, way. But if that were all that we were, we could cheerfully transfer care of our bodies into the hands of those who have studied these mechanics and be done with it. Many people do.

  However, being the proud owner of a 1974 Female Model of the Human Body, I have to tell you that if you buy into this version of body care, you are missing a really great party. The human body is not just an organic sack. It is an organic vessel that carts your human soul through the manifest creation of life and existence. And, since the human soul is infinitely large, the vessel that carries it must be much roomier than the modern medical understanding of the human body allows.

  Think about it. On a really basic, scientific level (and I am a science dumb-dumb, believe me) your body is more sp
ace than matter. Sure, it feels pretty solid. All of its pieces and parts are neatly and ingeniously fit together. But if you go down beyond the easily seen and felt, we are all just molecules and atoms. Teeny-tiny bits of matter magnetically connected to one another through vast volumes of space.

  Proportionately, this space is far, far greater than the matter it contains. Our infinitely large spirits certainly can’t fit in the finite matter of an atom. So where do you think it lives? This space is the home of your energy, your vibration, your essence, your spirit—your soul. Shouldn’t you acknowledge the space of your body as much as you do the visible matter?

  Maybe we ought to take a moment to reflect on that.

  Moment.

  This is why the human body fascinates me. And this is why I went into yoga instead of into medical school. (Where I am sure I never would have been accepted—science dummy, remember? Thank God.) Yoga is infinitely flexible in the exploration of the human system. It allows for grand ideas and outside of the lines thinking. It accepts that dis-ease and dis-comfort can be the result of more than just tangible, organic problems. Yoga works with the limited physical in an effort to discover the grand infinite.

  I try to demonstrate this to my students in every class, encouraging them to ‘find the space’. I wonder sometimes if they get what I am trying to say, or just think that I am the ‘kooky’ yoga instructor who simply wants them to expand their breath. But if even one person makes the connection, then I am successful.

  It is the exploration of this space that leads you to a better understanding of your body’s real purpose. The acceptance of this space is the first step to really connecting with the driver of your human experience. Why else are we here on the manifest plane? To make money? To simply watch our matter decompose day by day? Uh, no. We are here to discover the purpose of our souls. We are here to understand our inner space.