I still play that game.

It’s been a good teacher, though sometimes with hard lessons and consequences involved, in the art of communication. How what we end up saying can be very different from the original intention. And so often as I discover my heart’s truest intention in regards to my thoughts and words AND actions, I think of “ahimsa,” one of the ethical guidelines in the philosophy and practice of Yoga. In fact, last weekend in our Sunday morning yoga class, I brought in the precept of ahimsa, or non-violence, into our practice. How we can easily make sense of being non-violent towards others, by speaking kindly, acting kindly, being appropriate in non-harming attitudes outward, but what about inward? How do we fare when an overwhelming (and sometimes stupid, really, although I don’t really like that word) sense of competitiveness comes in and we put our bodies, ourselves in the way of harm? When we say derogatory things to ourselves that no ones else hears, like “You’ll never be good enough,” or “I can’t do that as well as that person over there”? Or even, “It doesn’t matter that this is painful in a very compromising way, I have to do this.”

Here it is in practical terms. After I had my third child and knew my lower back was not ready, I practiced very strenuous forward bends and pushed into full backbends anyway. I hurt my back badly. Now, almost a year-and-a-half later and after a lot of chiropractic care and core strengthening, I can finally approach those poses again with no pain and good alignment. I had no business doing them then. I didn’t listen to my body, I listened to my desire.

Then there’s the other side of the coin. The one where competitiveness can be just what we need to open more fully, to accept more openly, and to become more in tune to that which we already are. The “leaping of faith.” The peeling away of layers so that we can bloom right open, and be vulnerable, and come up gulping this new found confidence and freedom that we never knew tasted so sweet and felt so thrilling.

Judith Lasater wrote regarding ahimsa in Yoga Journal:

“There is a famous story about ahimsa told in the Vedas, the vast collection of ancient philosophical teachings from India. A certain sadhu, or wandering monk, would make a yearly circuit of villages in order to teach. One day as he entered a village he saw a large and menacing snake who was terrorizing the people. The sadhu spoke to the snake and taught him about ahimsa. The following year when the sadhu made his visit to the village, he again saw the snake. How changed he was. This once magnificent creature was skinny and bruised. The sadhu asked the snake what had happened. He replied that he had taken the teaching of ahimsa to heart and had stopped terrorizing the village. But because he was no longer menacing, the children now threw rocks and taunted him, and he was afraid to leave his hiding place to hunt. The sadhu shook his head. “I did advise against violence,” he said to the snake, “but I never told you not to hiss.”

Protecting ourselves and others does not violate ahimsa. Practicing ahimsa means we take responsibility for our own harmful behavior and attempt to stop the harm caused by others. Being neutral is not the point. Practicing true ahimsa springs from the clear intention to act with clarity and love.”

Yoga is such an interesting teacher. In all things, there is pose and repose. It’s the constant struggle of balance. Sometimes, it’s our constant struggle against balance. Think of our warrior poses, fierce and mighty, and the stories behind them that tell of battle and righting great wrongs. And now think of the quiet introspection of child’s pose, a full prostration and receipt of quiet and calm.

I encourage you to practice ahimsa. Chew on it, read about it (Yoga Sutras, second chapter), digest it, spit it out even. Practice does not make perfect. Practice, makes practice.

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3. Balance.

This time of year, the time when we’re already reviewing and reflecting on our New Year’s Resolutions, there is a focus on balance. Balancing life and work and play. Balancing relationships in order to give more, take less. Balancing family relationships, marriage relationships, significant relationships. Balancing your checkbook so that you know that the bank knows that you know how much money is there.

I’ve noticed that after reading through my own resolutions, they fall within the categories of community, relationship, learning, and family. (One of my resolutions is to reread my resolutions once a week.)

But what ties these together? How do I balance between and reconcile myself to them? How can I become clear enough in my intention that I attune to the bigger picture?

In the February edition of Yoga Journal, there is an article that defines how understanding yoga’s four aims of life plays into our search for balance. Specifically: dharma (responsibilities), artha (prosperity), karma (pleasure), and moksha (freedom). Please read it. And over these first four weeks of 2010, let’s take them one at a time as an intention that simultaneously grounds and frees our practice, beginning with dharma.

Ready?

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This week’s nudge/shove was all about time. And it is…about time.

My a-ha moment came while I was trying to soothe my seven-month old to sleep for his afternoon nap. I did exactly what I had done the previous two days, but it wasn’t working! So frustrating. But as I looked down at my hand lying on his chest, I noticed that every time he’d nearly nod off into deep, limp sleep, he’d jerk awake and wrap his chubby little hands over mine, keeping me there. And oh, how I had things to do. I was losing my window. Oh, and my mind.

So I closed my eyes, calmed down, and felt.

Here’s what I discovered.

During those two days of successful napping, when I touched my baby, I was cheering him on. I was so completely present with him, encouraging him in every thought. My skin was relaxed completely – my face, hands, body language. Even the weight of my hand on his chest. How fantastic that had to feel, don’t you think?

On this day, however, even though my hand was there as before, I was energetically drawing away from him. I was not present. I was thinking in the future and becoming agitated and stressed. My touch was not warm, but impatient.

There’s a great article in the November 2009 issue of Yoga Journal titled, “Take Your Time” (page 19). The author, Ganga White, writes, “Time has always been precious, but too often we allow our lives to become frenzied and stressed.” Nudge #2.

This. Nudge #3.

Get the picture?

So while the list is intentionally time consuming, here is how I plan to be present and draw deeper into love this week:

• Allow my four-year-old to tell me as many stories that begin with, “Hey Mom, did you know…” as he can on our bike ride to preschool, even though it might make him late for school
• Okay, leave 20 minutes early for the 5-minute ride to school so that he won’t be late from stopping to tell me stories
• Touch my baby, intentionally and patiently, as long as he needs for restful sleep
• Practice yoga for 30-minutes v. the desired 90 minutes, and savor my thankfulness for it
• Stop for a well-deserved high-five with my husband to acknowledge making it through another chaotic evening routine of dinner/cleanup/bathtime/storytime/bedtime (he totally rocks this)

How will you be present this week?

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Um, no.

Ogden, The Inappropriate Yoga Guy.

Three major things come up for me with Ogden. One, I was truly mortified when I first saw his YouTube video a few weeks ago. I thought that while a true depiction of some “yoga guys” I’ve seen in yoga classes, he was just awful. And I felt he was mocking yoga. (Might I add that while teaching yoga class a few years ago, one of my male students actually drawled, “Oh…talk slower.” WHAT?!)

Two, due to my background in advertising I applaud Yoga Journal for having the savvy to hire this guy, based on his popularity on YouTube, to do a web series for yogajournal.com. Very good marketing value, that one.

Three, the yogi in me is worried, once again, that Yoga Journal is not just dipping their toes in, but jumping full monty into the waters of yoga over-commercialization. A few years ago, in fact, I dropped my subscription to YJ because I craved the roots of yoga, not just the western take of it. (Now I just sneak copies into my grocery basket.)

I have to admit, however, that I do have a wicked sense of humor, and he is funny! But I’m left feeling guilty. Am I betraying my inner yogini and doing the full monty thing? Or am I missing the point: to reach an audience out there who doesn’t connect with those who take their yogic selves too seriously?

What do you think?

P.S. To really “get” the ending of Episode #2, you have to read this article from Elephant Journal and peruse the accompanying pics. Now THAT’S funny.

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