Category Archives: Yoga Thinking

The Clock’s Lesson

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Time tells us things, but never stops to think.

I awoke this morning in Bethesda, MD, in the room I grew up in. I looked out the window, through a high, distant patch of sky, a small hole in the dense foliage. I felt as if I were looking up to freedom from a place of pleasant imprisonment, to a place of infinite love from a world with all too much hate.

I thought of a meditation image where one thinks of the true Self as the blue sky behind the clouds. I lay in bed, thinking about this burgeoning Self, the blue sky I am just beginning to really know at age 46, about the importance of starting the day off right, with clarity and calmness.

I glanced at the clock to see what time it was, what time I was starting my day. The clock said 9:11 AM. Today is September 11, 2006. It was as if I were being reminded by that coincidence, being given my lesson. Today is a day for remembering and learning.

I thought of those who perished on this day five years ago. How many of them were just beginning to find themselves, as I am? How many had already done so and were sharing their love deeply with all those around them? How many hadn’t yet even glimpsed what they might have seen if they had had some more time?

The world changed that day. I wonder if those who perished then would think we’ve really improved things. Have we really tackled the hate behind those attacks? Or have we just obfuscated it, like so many more clouds obscuring the truly clear, blue sky? I wonder. What would “blue sky thinking” tell us? To hate back, or to find some other way?

I decided that my lesson for today was this: Not to add to the clouds of hate and mistrust. I think those who perished on September 11, 2001 would not want to see hate on top of hate. I will live this day actively toward clarity and compassion. I will try to help solve the problem by my actions, my life, rather than simply hating those who fumbled the opportunity we had 5 years ago to avoid war. I will try to forgive those who’s policies of hate have now caused the deaths of thousands of our soldiers. I will try to forgive those who started a war as a smokescreen to cover their own failures.

The clock reads 9:26 AM.

The Physicality of Spirit

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I was riding one of those advanced elliptical running machines at the gym yesterday when it dawned on me. As I strove find perfect balance within the complicated motions of the exercise, at one point I found the right rhythm and released into it and suddenly it became effortless. All parts of my body were working as a whole. My body felt like a gyroscope, one of those toys I loved as a child because it appeared to magically defy gravity. I was spinning in space, completely present physically. My mind was present and free within my body. Both body and mind were thinking, “Wow, this feels cool!”.

Gyroscope balanced on wine glassOur bodies are more naturally in the present than our minds by a long shot. All the sense organs are part of the body. We see more than we can register, but we hardly ever see without filtering and judging. The same goes with hearing. As we all know, smell is one of the most powerful senses, connecting directly with the deepest part of the brain. Our sense of touch is available from every inch of skin encasing us. Yet we register only the information from these senses when it suits us, serves us, or annoys us.

There is another sense, which Alexander called “kinesthetic” sense. It’s the feeling the body has of itself in space, especially as it moves. As mental animals, we are barely aware of ourselves kinesthetically. As you read this, notice your body. Feel your body in the chair. Feel the room with your body. (not your mind) There’s a lot of information there, but we don’t notice it most of the time, since we are thinking about what we’re doing, thinking about what we’re going to do, what we did yesterday, why we’re not happy, what would make us happier, and on and on. Rarely are we ever really present, in our bodies.

We are barely aware of the depth of sensing our bodies are capable of. We have tuned out for so long we have lost the synapses, the sensitivity to our physical presence. Meditation is a practice which allows us to begin to be present. But we can also learn to be aware all the time. I like to take walks as a meditation. I enjoy and notice the flow of my body as I walk. I notice my breathing and allow it to deepen. I allow my head to float up and forward, releasing and almost lifting my body up a bit, making movement freer. I notice the smells, sounds, sights and touches of the scenery as I pass within it. Yes, we are within our surroundings, part of it. It’s different than just noticing with the mind. It allows the body to sense its own weight and thickness within gravity, air, sounds, sights, smells.

The body is the gyroscope of the spirit. It is the instrument which senses and measures the universe. When balanced, it notices subtle changes in surrounding energy which the mind often fails to register. When poised and relaxed, the body can feel the great, deep humming of the divine, the infinite. As it becomes more tuned to the divine, the body hums sympathetically with the universal spirit, living lightly and effortlessly.

On the bank, instead of in the river

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I tend to think about life rather than live it. (or frantically live while thinking about other things) I feel as if I’m standing on the bank thinking about the course rather than practicing swimming in the river. The longer you stand on the bank, the more out of shape you get. You become a landlubber. Roots grow beneath your feet. The flow of the river becomes a scene viewed through a window and the skill of swimming in the flow is lost.

Granted, one cannot live without thinking about life. Planning is necessary to a productive life. But balance is the key. Do you ever feel lost in a group conversation, where you can follow but almost never add to it? Do you feel like a clumsy oaf when trying new things? The issue is probably that you are too far removed from the present, too much time spent on the bank watching the river flow by.

Body Language and Alexander. Here I refer to our own body’s language, the signals our bodies give us in response to events. Most of us respond unconsiously to most stimuli: annoyance, fear and anger all translate into the body directly. The goal is first to be aware of these reactions, then eventually control them.

Do you feel your body energy change when you pass people walking on the street? I feel a change in the “posture” of my neck and shoulders while passing people in my local public park. It’s a fairly safe park, so that’s not the problem.

I can be walking along merrily with a lanky flow in my body until I near another person or group. Subtle habits of fear tense in me: fear of what they’re thinking of me, of their possible judgments. A multitude of micro-anxieties clog the flow of my body. In a way I shut down. Yet I’m barely aware of it unless I tune in carefully, which I’ve only recently learned to do. I tend to look away or down the moment our eyes meet. I fear their rejection. This subtle reaction becomes the norm. I forget I ever knew the flow.

When I refer to the “flow”, I mean a state of physical and mental poise, natural and relaxed, from which one can move the body and mind in any direction. Many Eastern physical “arts” have a similar starting point for their practices.

I’ve been learning about Alexander technique for a few months now. Originally, this technique was used to help actors and other performers tune in to their body’s reactions to stress. But I am finding that it can help balance many issues whose primary symptom is held in the body. If the body is unbalanced and tense, the mind, being part of it, will certainly suffer as well. You may not be able to change the stress causing events in your life, but you can change how you, starting with your body, react to them.

An animal’s body reacts to surprise with a tensing of the neck and shoulders. This is called the “startle position”. Humans have a great deal of stress in their daily lives. Driving a car is the most common. Job performance is another.

Add to these the multitude of subtle stresses that can be created by the imagination. Fear of judgment is a huge issue for me. Growing up gay trained me to live cautiously. Those habits are deeply ingrained in my body’s life. I’m sure you also have some issues of self-consciousness, which inhibit the flow of your true self. Please feel free to explore these in your comments.

We all have inevitable stress in our lives. How we handle this bombardment is vital to health, to freedom and growth.

Learning your body’s language is the key. When you learn to stay relaxed and poised you are a more continuous person emotionally and intellectually. Concentration is better. Decisions are easier. Coordination is better.

Doing rather than analyzing is the goal. Being in the body rather than the mind is the path. One Alexander teacher emphasizes the importance of staying aware of the “live” situation around you as you become aware of the body, being in the room rather than in the mind while you move your arm or relax your neck. This way your neck relaxes without you “thinking” about doing it or “telling” it to relax. The difference is paramount.

These skills are particularly important for a musician. Speaking with the body is what musicians do. However, any human body can benefit from learning to better speak its own language.

We are bodies. Our body’s intelligence/poise gives continuity to our daily lives. And swimming in the river helps. So jump in. The water may seem cold at first, but it’ll warm up, and then you’ll feel more alive than ever.

Facing forward

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stained glass leaded windowThere are things I just don’t like facing. I shut down. I tumble the discomfort into a jumble of words and throw the words out, lose them in the chaos.

I just had a party, a happy, boisterous noise of 15 people. When everyone left I was alone. Loneliness loomed. At first there was panic. But I sank down into it and it softened. Ultimately everything comes to an end. To believe otherwise is delusion. But to discount the value of the illusion of endlessness is also foolish. It is important to acknowledge the sadness of endings.

We are human, animal, flesh and blood. We need petting, barking, sniffing, munching, along with all the rich variety of human emotions attached to our bodies. Yet we forget this fact more often than we realize. There is so much activity that occupies us on a daily basis that we don’t often need to face our frailty, our mortal coil. Even our spiritual lessons distract us from the naked truth. Subscribing to the illusion of permanence causes suffering.

Yet beyond that truth, or perhaps encasing it, is the brute reality that we have no choice but to involve ourselves in the lives of others, as much as we can. Even though doing so causes us the suffering of endings. This paradox both intrigues me and shakes me to the core. Regardless of the “meaning” of life, it’s obvious we must live it somehow, embrace some belief. To do otherwise is suicide, unless you are meant to become an extreme ascetic. (or a lost puppy, like me)

Even within the company of another we are ultimately alone, a separate mass of nerves. I’ve never been comfortable with that idea, but none of my experience has proved otherwise. My own reality, my body, mind and unique path doesn’t permit full convergence with another person. At least not yet, not in this life. Sharing with others my deepest emotions, my deepest understanding, my greatest epiphanies, offers momentary connection, then passes like an orgasm. All we ultimately have is the illusion, frame by frame, to use in some cut and paste, pointillist storyline of meaning.

So the party is over. The joyous roar which filled the void has ended. I cradle the sweet sadness of being alone.

I watch. I see the curve, the rise and fall of those waves. Ultimately it’s the waves, rather than the epiphanies, which comfort me. It’s like breathing. I sigh and turn the page.

Attitude

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neck lineFor the past few years I’ve been bothered by pain behind my left shoulder. It often nagged me. Yoga practice helped me relax but hurt the shoulder, rather both shoulders. Though yoga didn’t tell me to ignore the pain. That was all me. It started down the back of my head on the left side and continued beneath my left shoulder blade. It felt like something needed to be cracked. Like there was an electrical short somewhere in the wiring. Tingling and burning. Persistent.

I finally decided to face the problem and get help. I had seen my mother’s chiropractor a couple of times and was impressed with the results, even if only temporary. I got a coupon for the first visit to a well known clinic. I am suspicious of chiropractors, believing I should do on my own whatever they might do for me. I inherited a “Pull up your own bootstraps” kind of attitude from my father.

The coupon included a consultation and x-rays and the followup discussion from the tests. As usual with any exam, I assume the results will show my healthy condition.

Seeing the x-ray photos stunned me. Even before the doctor spoke, I knew. I had no curve in my neck. In fact I had some reverse curve. This was a little scary. At first I thought the cause of the deformation was my new tendency to try to lift the back of my head up, a practice which I also learned in yoga. But to yoga’s credit the advice implies to lift gently, not hang yourself, as I was doing.

The cause was not mysterious, though. The main culprit is my posture from playing clarinet 30 hours a week for 30 years. Despite my attempts to educate myself over the years about my playing posture, I didn’t have enough information to notice how I craned my neck and torso forward when playing. Habits.

Another reason for my poor posture is that I’m tall. Most people are shorter than me. So I often slouch to talk to people. Habits.

Another persistent cause is gravity. As I age, gravity weighs more.

While I analyzed my posture throughout the day I began to notice another, deeper cause for my neck problem.

Attitude.

At some point in my life I lost a lot of self-esteem. I think we all suffer those blows. Perhaps some of us are more prone than others. Self-esteem is a kind of love. Trust in yourself is both vital and fragile. It’s not just a blanket of forgiveness, but a compassionate look at both your strengths and failures.

Looking down is not only an effect of low self-esteem. I think it can become a down facing attitude, a negative outlook. I think it can aggravate a low self image. It can become a self-sustaining and chronic condition, both physical and emotional.

Just knowing or thinking about these things helps me begin to heal.

The chiropractor’s touch is also healing. I think the one I’m seeing is gifted. Not only does he know where things need to go back to, how much they’re out, and why they got that way. But he touches my skin directly. There it is again, the importance of touch.

These treatments will help me a great deal. But I also need to start seeing the whole picture. I need to notice on a second to second basis how balanced my body is. And the angle of my attitude.

A good attitude, both physical and emotional, is the beginning of healing.