by Jamie Shane
This has always surprised me, given that people will sing merrily along to a song about killing ‘hos and abusing women, then strenuously object to Wahe Guru or Ra Ma Da Sa. What?! A mantra is nothing more than words honouring god—and we’re not fussy here, folks, any god will do—and holding that divinity within yourself. Mantras realign you to the highest vibrations, literally tuning you in to greater forces. They are not unlike hymns sung in a different language. What makes Wahe Guru different than Amen? Not much. Except maybe that you’ll chant it 108 times instead of once.
There are many schools of mantra. Hindu, Buddhist, Yoga, yes, even Christian. None of them will ever ask you to give up any part of your personal faith. Mantras are a supplement to your spiritual practice, like Vitamin C for the soul. Even if you aren’t certain of the exact translation, be assured, I promise, that you will never find yourself saying, singing or chanting anything that goes against what you believe.
You will never be saying anything that is harmful to yourself or to others. You will never be eschewing one god for another. Mantra is about realigning yourself. It is about using words to their highest and most beneficial purpose and then leaving that vibration out in the world to heal others. Mantra is about faith and love and health for yourself as well as others.
So, in that vein, I leave you with, Om, shanthi, shanthi, shanthi. Om, peace, peace, peace. Blessings to you all.
85
It is often said that the simplest pose in the cannon of yoga asana is also the most difficult to master. For it does not involve any complicated twists, folds, bends or balances. There is no motion that occupies the attention. No physical root to tether the mind. Savasana, or Corpse pose, is the ultimate expression of yoga stillness. It is the ultimate quiet space.
It is so difficult for many because the act of quieting down both body and mind asks that you surrender. That you give up all of your earthly tasks and wait in the ether for absolutely nothing. You have absolutely no goal other than the achievement of utter release. There is, quite literally, nothing at all for you to do. No place for you to be. Nothing to sort out. No one seeking your attention. Nothing but the vast void of simple existence.
Sounds divine, doesn’t it?
Traditionally, at the end of a yoga practice, one comes into Savasana. Stretched out comfortably on your back, with the toes rolled naturally out, with the palms curling softly, you are invited to go there. You are given the time to explore this amazing space of nothing. It is always surprising to me how much one ends up finding there.
To fully enjoy Corpse pose, one must abandon the body completely.
You just decide that the body is absolutely fine where it is and systematically relax it, piece by piece. You let go of even the slightest tension in the muscles and trust that everything will be fine. And it will be. What, are you going to fall down while you’re flat on your back? Fall off the floor? Physically, this is just about the safest place you can be.
Even knowing that, it takes a certain willingness let go. The mind has to decide that it is willing to give up the wheel. This is not the time to sort out your laundry. This is the time to find the place where the frequency of the mundane mind just simply does not tune in. That is when one finds silence. Blessed silence. Blissful freedom from the incessant and often inane chatter that is a constant backdrop of sound in your head.
When you manage this release, you have stripped away two veils--the body & the mind—that cover your true essence. You give yourself the opportunity to feel the true core of you; to be, if only for a few minutes, absolutely pure. Completely, utterly, absolutely real.
Like a mother hen I’ve led countless people to the gates and dropped them off. And then I have waited to lead them all back out. You can’t imagine the feel of a room where everybody has found that space. Its like a cool lake of peace that I get to paddle in while y’all are out traveling the naught. (Thanks, by the way…)
The Savasana experience is the quintessence of yoga asana. And yet so many students and teachers fail to give it its due. It is seemingly benign. It is tempting to skip it. Who has the time, right? You do and achieve nothing, so some assume that it is a disposable posture. Big mistake. Huge example of Missing The Point Completely.
This is it, folks. Boil all of yoga down and come away with this. Know your true essence. And no other posture manages that quite like Savasana. Because, lets be frank, when its just you and you in a big empty space of you, you’re going to do more than just shake hands and schmooze the room. You will get to know yourself like never before.
And the possibilities of that are breathtaking.
86
There is an ancient chant that often pops up in yoga. It is one of many, I know, but this particular one is a simple delight. Offered at the end of class it is a succinct blessing and a timely reminder to diligence.
Jai! (Victory to the light!)
I find in this simple word all the courage needed to fight for my yoga another day. It is trying to live a yogic life in the face of the modern world. And I do not count myself among the numbers of strictly devout yogis. But the practice does inspire certain paradigms that cannot —and should not — be escaped, no matter how gently one approaches them.
At its heart, yoga asks you to explore simplicity, humility and peace. It asks you to plant these ideas in your psyche and live with them to ripeness. And when those ideals are ready to fall from your tree, yoga asks you to share them with the world. And it is through this sharing that grace is achieved. But not everybody wants to hear, and even fewer want to listen. Grace holds little lure against the power of material delight.
Simplicity asks you to want what you have. Humility demands that you don't flaunt what you do. Peace is the balance between them.
These ideas, however, travel counter to what we live with every day. In our neck of the woods this is especially true. Our town is beautiful and, for the most part, very friendly. But simple it is not. Humble it is not. Fancy houses, fancy cars, fancy meals, Naples is the land of milk and honey indeed. And we'll be happy to show you the honey pot at any time.
I am not saying that this is a bad thing. Prosperity is a spiritual gem as well as an earthly one. But being surrounded by excess when one is experiencing a yoga life makes the battle all that much harder. Many of our most gifted yogis have packed up their bags and left our little corner of paradise for good. Believe me, this is our loss. All of ours, yogi or not.
More people of spirit leave our gates every day simply because they do not feel they alone can make a dent in the mindset of extravagance. And, in all likelihood, they cannot. People who want to orient themselves with their money will always do so. People who want to live a life of deeper meaning will simply have to deal with it. I have accepted this, but some days it makes my heart want to weep with frustration.
This does not mean, however, that yoga has no place in the heart of Naples. For every Hummer on the road, there is a yogi on a bike. For every gourmand, there is a yogi supporting the organic markets. For every speedboat hurtling through the serenity of our waterways, you will find a yogi in a canoe. We are here. You are not alone. The values of yoga live in an army of like-minded individuals practicing the arts of simplicity, humility and peace. We're just not as loud as the competition.
Be heartened, yogi mine. Be assured that a community breathes long and slow beneath the shiny exterior of this place we call home. It is time to band together now, to inspire a revolution of thinking and dancing and light. To make ourselves heard and respected as we raise our joined voices to the sky:
Jai! Jai! Victory to the light!
87
Yoga is for every body, but not all yoga is for you. With so many different styles to choose from, so many levels to wade through, and so many instructors to wander amongst, it may take some trials to find the class that suits you. This is natural; don't be discouraged. Yes, even I, yogi extraordinaire (kidding), have been to classes that just don't fit. Its not that I'm not good enough, or
flexible enough. Its not that I'm not strong enough or focused enough. Its just that, well, that wasn't for me. And what is for me may not be for you.
Finding a yoga class is like shopping for a pair of jeans. You may have to try on some truly humbling pairs before finding the ones that make you feel like Angelina Jolie. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll never look like Angelina Jolie, so lets say: a pair that don't make you feel like Mrs. Moo Moo after a supersized Big Mac meal. And when you find that pair, buy two, and always go back.
My point is this: Its OK to shop around. Its OK not to like a class you are in. But keep looking, and keep trying. And when you find that perfect class, go back. Keep at it. And when that class no longer suits, try another. The question then arises: What to do when you find yourself in a class that doesn't work for you? The answer to that is two-fold. It really depends on how the class doesn't fit.
If you find yourself in a class that is too gentle, or too slow for your needs, I say: stick it out. Even if your mind is galloping away with boredom, press on. For you might be surprised at what you can learn when you are working slowly through some easy postures. The body has time to really experience what it is doing, and the mind has an opportunity to observe this process. Plus, a gentle workout is a great way to refresh yourself without "working out."
You don't have to stretch to capacity, or sweat like a Trojan to experience the full range of yogic benefits. Yoga is about stillness as much as it is about flexibility, or strength. Its heart is wrapped around silence and focus more than it is around difficult asana. If you settle down, and make an agreement with yourself to experience what is being offered in a gentle class, you may be pleasantly surprised with the benefits.
Now, on the other hand, if you find yourself in a class that is out of your league, one that you are struggling to keep up with, you have to ask yourself some serious questions. Challenging yourself with yoga is a healthy thing. Trying new postures is good. But you have to know where your mind/body is, and why you are struggling. If it is simply because you are unfocused, then suck it up, soldier, and drive on. Bring your mind into play and focus—you can do it. If you slept on a pull-out and your back feels like it was stuffed into carry on luggage, then modify the postures, and work to the best of your ability. Eventually, you will come around and fall in line with the class. If you are just feeling lazy, then, tough luck. You came to class, now work it out. These kinds of troubles are ones that can be cleared away by sticking with the class you are in.
These are temporary struggles and can be worked through. Just honor yourself, honor your body and work through it. Know what is too much, and know why it is too much. Awareness is your solution.
However. If you are struggling out of sheer physicality, then stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. If you ever feel pain, STOP. If you just had hip, back, knee, foot, shoulder, whatever, surgery and the instructor is leading you on a thousand merry rounds of astanga sun salutations— maybe this isn't the class for you. If your body won't go where you are being told, then really examine your own capabilities. Again, challenge is good. But so is knowing when that challenge is too much. If you straight up, simply can't do it—don't. Its OK. Any instructor worth their salt would rather see you get up and leave than to hurt yourself.
But before you go, really know why you are doing so. Its alright to know that this class is too hard, too advanced and that you will hurt yourself. Its not alright to go simply because you don't feel like doing what is being offered. If you can do it, try to stay. If you can't, get up, press your palms together and bow to the instructor. Then quietly leave.
This small show of respect will be greatly appreciated by the instructor, and they will understand.
88
I would love to say that everybody who comes to their first yoga class walks away completely enamoured. That, like a switch suddenly being turned on, they fall immediately into a life-long habit from which they never sway or veer. That is, of course, my fantasy. People react very differently and very personally to their first yoga experience. As well it should be. But they all seem to agree unanimously on one thing.
It certainly was more than they bargained for.
That is because, for all of its fantastic simplicity, yoga is hard. Not like climbing a mountain hard. Or writing a novel hard. Yoga is more like being married hard. It doesn’t look like it would be, but once you find yourself knee deep in it you realize, “Man, this is work.” Even the easy stuff.
For those who are accustomed to moving their bodies in a recreational manner, ie, runners, climbers, cyclists, et al, yoga is more surprising than simply difficult. They have already forged the connection between mind and body. They can make the transition into the yoga process with greater ease than those who come to it straight out of the arm chair.
Their challenge comes with the realization that their preferred physical activity probably won’t allow them to just slide into the postures as comfortably as they had imagined. In other words, they know how to ask their body to move. But that doesn’t mean it replies with the ease heretofore understood. When they reach down for those toes, fully expecting to succeed and come up way short, the first inkling of what they have gotten themselves into begins to show.
Like I said. Yoga is hard. But never impossible.
Those who come to it with no physical experience have a different reaction than those who work their bodies religiously. As, of course, they should. If you have never once given thought to how your body moves, or how the mind controls the body—consciously or not—you plop your tush down on that mat and find yourself on the Moon. You want me to do what? Put my what where? Whachoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis? (Yes, I have just dated myself—and badly.)
The illusion that yoga is a ‘girly’ sport that just anybody can effortlessly slide right into is pretty roughly shattered when you give yourself over to the mat. The first time you are shown what a true breath is and discover that you had no idea. When you move into a posture you always assumed would be simple and discover that it is not.
I love to see this transform into enjoyment. For, despite its challenge, yoga is fun. It refreshes more than your body. It teaches you more about yourself than whether or not you can touch those toes because it is far more than a simple physical experience. Yoga is hard. But delightfully so. And how you react to it says a lot about the kind of person you are.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how ‘well’ you think you did in a class. There is no such thing as being ‘successful’ in a posture. If you can manage to make the connection, and laugh at your inabilities, you will have taken the first step to finding ease in the practice of yoga.
Because it is a practice. And that means it is intensely personal and ever-evolving. I believe with my whole heart that yoga is for everybody. It is the very best gift you can give yourself precisely because it is hard. To walk away from it because it wasn’t as easy as you thought is short-sighted and self-defeating.
What is it that they say? Ah, yes. Anything worth having is worth working for.
89
I have always wanted to ride down one of those zip lines. You know the ones, over the rainforest canopy somewhere in Costa Rica. Every time I see it on TV I think, “Man, that looks like so much fun.” It also looks pretty easy. Butt in the harness. Hands on the grip. Push off and, wheeeeeeeeee over the tree tops you go.
But I’m no fool. Just because it seems easy doesn’t mean it is a wise idea to string a clothesline over the monkey lake at Caribbean Gardens, plop your tookus in a Publix bag suspended over some old handlebars and let ‘er rip. There is a reason there are trained, insured professionals setting you up in the safety gear. They know things that you don’t.
I have also always wanted to perform the Scorpion asana. For those of you unfamiliar, think headstand with your head lifted from the floor, neck arched back while your body gracefully lifts off into the air. Then your back arches so that your feet can meet the crown of your head. It looks glorious.
But again, I’m
no fool. I know lots about yoga and I still don’t know enough to manage that pose. I’ve not been taught and I’m not about to toss myself into an inverted backbend just because I think I should be able to handle it. Maybe I could. But can you really believe that is wise?
Um. No. And I’ll tell you why. An unexamined belief in your own abilities is the most dangerous form of pride. And we all know what they say: Pride goeth before a fall.
Pride is the devil on your shoulder telling you who you are and what you should be able to achieve. It also has a very skewed perspective on the truth. Pride is that little voice that says, “I’m going to take yoga. I’ve always been flexible and I’ve always been in pretty good shape. Surely an advanced class is appropriate for me.” Or better yet. “I used to lift weights when I played football in school. It was only ten years ago; Not that long at all, really. Surely a 200 lb. Bench press is a just fine place to start.”
Okay. Reality check. Today is not yesterday. Nor is it tomorrow. A real understanding of the self—and its abilities-- comes from this very moment. What can you do right now? Perhaps it will be something you have always been able to do. But, then again, perhaps you are different and what was once true no longer holds. The only way to know is to put pride on the shelf and really look at the foundation under your feet at this instant.
So, sure, you’re in good shape. But do you have the fundamental yogic knowledge of breath and mind control? If the answer is no, then that advanced class is not the right place for you no matter what you think. So, sure, you might have been a muscleman in school. But has that muscle turned to a beer belly and donut neck? If so, then perhaps jumping right back into the deep end of the pool, so to say, ain’t such a good idea.