Hari-kirtana – Page 2

I’m not doing anything

Well, that was intense… and scary and strange and tragic and wonderful – so long, 2019!

It’s natural to look back at the end of the year and reflect on what we’ve done before we look ahead to what we hope to do.

Personally, my tendency is to think more about what remains to be done rather than about what I’ve accomplished. I find it easy to forget that each step before the final step is what makes the final step possible.

But when I looked back at my 2019 calendar it showed me how many steps I’d taken: how many classes I’d taught, things I’d learned, milestones I’d reached, people I had a positive influence on, and people who positively influenced me.

Have you looked back through your 2019 calendar yet? If not, check it out – you might be amazed at what you accomplished, what you survived, whom you helped, and who helped you.

So now that I feel a little better about how last year went I’m ready to look ahead to 2020. And whatever intention I set or goals I have, if I can remember three things throughout the year then there’s a good chance I’ll be able to feel good about how things go.

The first thing I want to remember is that I am very small and my time is very short so I should use the time that I have to cultivate a sense of humility in recognition of my actual position as an infinitesimal part of an infinite reality.

The second thing I want to remember is that commitment to the process without attachment to the results is the real key to success. In yoga, the endeavor is the perfection.

The third thing I want to remember is that I’m not doing anything.

The Sanskrit word ‘ahaṅkāra,’ usually translated as ‘ego’, is more accurately understood to mean a ‘false ego’ in juxtaposition to one’s ‘true ego.’

Ahaṅkāra is the element of material nature that binds us to a conception of identity that’s based on what kind of body we have or what our karmic circumstances are. You could say that my ahaṅkāra is my conception of myself as a white, middle-aged American man. This, of course, is a temporary material condition and therefore ‘false’ in the sense that it’s not my eternal spiritual condition.

The word ahaṅkāra is actually a compound word that we can gain an even deeper appreciation of when we look at the two words that form it: aham, meaning ‘I,’ and kāra, meaning ‘doing.’ Together, they form a word that’s most accurately translated as ‘I am doing’ or ‘I, the doer.’

The false ego is the condition of thinking ‘I am the one who is making things happen.’ And this certainly appears to be the case; it looks to me as if I’m the one who’s thinking these thoughts, typing these words, scheduling this email; that I’m the doer who hits ‘send.’

And yet, however it may appear to us, yoga philosophy tells us otherwise:

prakṛteḥ kriyamāṇāni – guṇaiḥ karmāṇi sarvaśaḥ /

ahaṅkāra-vimūḍhātmā – kartāham iti manyate //

“One who is bewildered by the influence of false ego thinks, ‘I am the doer of activities.’ In actuality, all activities are carried out by the three qualities of material nature.” – Bhagavad-gita 3.27

If all of my efforts to move the universe into alignment with my desires are illusory then I have to say that it’s a pretty convincing illusion. I’d certainly like to believe that I’m making things happen, that I’m the doer, that I have some control over my destiny.

The Sanskrit word for ‘controller’ is Īśvara, which is also defined as ‘Lord, master, or ruler; one having the potency to perform actions.’ The compound word yogeśvarā means ‘the masterful performer of yoga.’

We would like to think that we have the potency to perform actions that will move the universe into alignment with our desires. It looks like that’s what we’re doing. But we’re very small and the universe is very big and what we’re really doing is responding to the universe as best we can within the limitations of the qualities of material nature that bind us to a conception of identity that’s based on what kind of body we have or what our karmic circumstances are.

In other words, our true identity is that of one who is controlled, not the one who controls.

This can be a little disconcerting at first.

So if we’re not the controllers of material nature then who is?

ajo ’pi sann avyayātmā – bhūtānām īśvaro ’pi san /

prakṛtiṁ svām adhiṣṭhāya – sambhavāmy ātma-māyayā //

“Although I am, by my very nature, unborn, imperishable, and the Lord of all living entities, I appear in every millennium by my own inner power, standing within and yet presiding over my material energy.” – Bhagavad-gita 4.6

Krishna, the speaker of the Bhagavad-gita (who is also known as Yogeśvarā) seems to be claiming dibs on being the controller of the material energy that’s controlling us.

How does this information help me? It’s totally liberating! It takes a huge burden off of my shoulders because I can stop trying to move the universe into alignment with my desires!

And you can, too!

yadṛcchā-lābha-santuṣṭo – dvandvātīto vimatsaraḥ /

samaḥ siddhāv asiddhau ca – kṛtvāpi na nibadhyate //

“Content with gain that comes of its own accord, unperturbed by duality or envy, accepting both success and failure with a steady mind – such a person is never entangled by reactions to the actions they perform.” – Bhagavad-gita 4.22

So the pressure’s off: I can go about my business fully invested in the process without attachment to the results. And since fine-tuning and focusing on my process is one of my New Year’s resolutions, this looks like a total win-win for me.

How about you? What are the principles that will guide you in 2020? It’s not a rhetorical question: please leave a comment and let me know.

Happy New Year,

– Hari-kirtana

How do we know what’s true?

After a couple of weeks of watching the competing narratives coming out of the impeachment inquiry, I felt inspired to sit with the question: how do we know what’s true?

Conventional wisdom tells us that we live in a post-truth world where up can mean down, forward means backward, and left and right mean really left and right.

Separating fact from fiction has probably never been harder. And technology isn’t helping; it hasn’t the means and its handlers, for the most part, don’t have the will to be helpful when fake news is as profitable as real news.

So who or what do we accept as an authority on what’s true and what’s false?

There’s no question as to whether or not we accept an authority on any given topic; it’s just a matter of whose authority we accept: our own or someone else’s.

Personally, I don’t consider myself an authority on anything, at least not enough of an authority to rely on my own opinion alone. Instead, I rely on yoga’s theory of knowledge to help me separate fact from fiction.

The yogic theory of knowledge – pramāṇa in Sanskrit – has three parts: direct perception (pratyakṣa), logic (anumāna), and verbal testimony (āgamaḥ or parokṣa).

Since my senses are limited by imperfections such as the potential to be mistaken, to be influenced by illusion, or to interpret information according my personal biases, I start with the last item, verbal testimony, and work my way back.

‘Verbal testimony’ is also divided into three categories: guru (one’s teacher), śastra (scripture), and sadhu (exemplary practitioners). We hear from a teacher and, rather than accept what they say on blind faith, we look to authoritative yoga wisdom texts such as the Yoga-sūtra or the Bhagavad-gītā to see if what the teacher says is reflected in the traditional literature.

If it is, the next step is to look to those upon whom history has conferred a reputation for exceptional spiritual achievement to see if their teachings match those of our teacher and what we’ve read in yoga wisdom texts.

If all three – teacher, scripture, and exemplar – are saying the same thing then we can accept the teaching as legitimate, at least in the context of the tradition from which the teaching arises.

But does the teaching make sense?

There are four reasons why we might not understand something: we might not be smart enough, we might not be pure enough, we might not have heard a proper explanation, or it might just be that thing we’re trying to understand doesn’t make sense.

We shouldn’t be too quick to accept something just because it sounds authoritative or sell ourselves short on brains and purity if we don’t fully understand what we’ve heard. There’s plenty of ‘wisdom’ floating around the yoga-verse that doesn’t make sense once you think it all the way through, to say nothing of the flotilla of nonsense sailing across the ocean media-driven misinformation.

So the second step is to think about what the implications of the teaching are. This is where the practice of active contemplation comes into play: we have to ask ourselves if what we’ve heard makes sense when taken to its logical conclusion.

If a teaching passes the logic test, then the last step is to put the teaching into practice. The acquisition of knowledge in yoga is a scientific process: you take a reasonable theory into the laboratory of your life and do an experiment to see if the theory is true. The experiment validates the theory when we experience the truth of the theory by direct perception.

This is the practice of turning jñāna – theoretical knowledge – into vijñāna: experiential knowledge.

And experiential knowledge, acted upon repeatedly over time, eventually evolves into wisdom.

In a polarized world where convictions about right and wrong are intensifying toward the opposite ends of the spectrum, it’s increasingly important to have a way to distinguish between real news and fake news, between authentic, sensible, and beneficial teachings and speculative nonsense that’s bereft of any practical value.

In one sense, the news is always changing and, in another, it’s always the same: conflicts come and go, disasters arrive and subside, losers become winners and winners become losers. All of these little pictures fly by within the context of a bigger picture. Seeing the ephemeral events of the material world in the context of a changeless spiritual reality can help us find a peaceful center in the midst of all the breathless whirligig news cycles.

To ride the roller coaster of current events without getting queasy, we need to be anchored by the bigger picture. Yoga wisdom tells us that there’s a permanent spiritual reality beneath the paroxysms of material insanity. We can apply yoga’s theory of knowledge to both in order to know what’s true and what’s True.

Designing a Yoga Class Around a Philosophical Theme

A Case Study in Yoga Class Design

I smelled smoke. I felt heat. I couldn’t see a thing. My senses sent urgent messages to my mind, which quickly analyzed the data and delivered its conclusion: “You’re going the wrong way! Go the other way!”

I ignored my mind and continued to walk through the pitch-black room, slowly but steadily moving toward a fire I knew was hiding behind a wall that was somewhere in front of me.

The heat intensified. I leaned into the heat. Up above, I saw thin threads of fire flicker and vanish. Then, a sudden burst of flame billowed across the ceiling like an upside down ocean rolling in at high tide. I stood beneath a blazing canopy of rippling fire. [Read more…] about Designing a Yoga Class Around a Philosophical Theme

The Yoga of Voting

I don’t know why I’m so surprised when I meet young people who have no interest in voting. After all, I didn’t vote the first few times I could have. Watching the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement play out on the nightly news inspired my youthful interest in politics. But by the time I graduated from high school the war was winding down, it seemed as if Dr. King’s dream might come true, and Nixon was letting the door hit him on the way out. I thought that the world would get along just fine without my participating in its affairs. Politics faded into the background as my interests gravitated towards spirituality and music instead.

As I became more and more focused on my spiritual life I became less and less focused on “material life”… including politics. I was blissfully unaware of the fact that my indifference was a privilege: as a straight white man living in New York City I wasn’t subjected to the kinds of injustices that motivated others to be politically active.

In my spiritual immaturity, I also failed to realize that my primary source of spiritual inspiration, the Bhagavad-gita, was a book about how a yogi should respond to the most extreme kind of political problem: armed conflict. The response the Gita advocated wasn’t to walk off the battlefield and go do yoga in the forest; it was to step up to the call of duty and fight the good fight.

Yoga is, among other things, a moral philosophy that calls us not just to refrain from harming others but to act for the benefit of others as well:

“One who finds happiness within, relishes delight from within, and whose light shines from within, is a perfect mystic who is liberated from the forest fire of material existence… This supreme liberation is attained by those for whom impiety has been destroyed, for whom dualities arising from doubts have been severed, whose minds are engaged in self-realization, and who live for the welfare of all living beings.” – Bhagavad-gita 5.24-25

According to the Bhagavad-gita, there’s no contradiction between cultivating an inner life of personal spiritual development and an outer life of active social engagement as long as that engagement is dedicated toward “the welfare of all living beings.

From the standpoint of yoga, the ultimate welfare work is to give the gift of transcendental knowledge. Forgetfulness of our shared spiritual nature is the root cause of all suffering. Therefore, the objective of spiritual activism is to create a social setting that’s conducive to everyone’s spiritual upliftment.

The Gita’s criteria for spiritual activism are principles of universal morality collectively known as dharma. In the Vedic yoga tradition, dharma is composed of four values: austerity, purity, mercy, and truthfulness.

Austerity means to simplify our lives by letting go of the desire to acquire wealth and possessions beyond what we need to be comfortable.

Purity means to maintain cleanliness of one’s body and mind, to refrain from polluting the environment, and to be honest and virtuous in our relationships.

Mercy means to be kind, generous, and compassionate to everyone, to both refrain from harming others and to give protection to those in harm’s way.

Truthfulness means to acknowledge and abide by objective reality, to speak truthfully and to act in accordance with the truth.

A society that is obsessed with economic development, that fetishizes material wealth, that disregards environmental protection, that glorifies mean-spirited selfishness, and treats the truth as an enemy, is a society moving in opposition to dharma. Politicians who move society in opposition to dharma invite the opposition of yogis who are committed to defending dharma.

For a yogi, defending dharma is an integral part of a complete yoga practice. And in America, one of the easiest things that we can do in defense of dharma is to vote.

You may not be excited about any of the candidates on the ballot. You may believe that none of them exemplify dharmic values. You may be right.

But guess what? One of them is going to win. So you should ask yourself, ‘which candidate will do the least harm, be the least dishonest, and move society in a more dharmic direction?’

You may think that it doesn’t matter which candidate wins because your life won’t change either way. You may be content to let politics fade into the background because you’re not subjected to the kinds of injustices that motivate others to be politically active. You may think that the world will get along fine without your participating in its affairs.

And perhaps it will get along fine without my participation. If I vote or if I don’t, it won’t change anything for me. I could sit out this election on the plea of enlightened disinterest and go off to the forest to meditate.

But voting is not just about me. And it’s more than just a civic duty: voting is a service. And service is an integral part of our eternal nature: everything we do is a service to someone or something. There is no question of serving or not serving, only of how we serve.

On Election Day, A yogi serves by defending dharma, by taking a stand for simplicity, virtue, generosity, and truthfulness. Our local polling station is the battlefield and a ballot is our weapon. On Election Day, yogis are called upon to fight for the welfare of all living beings.

On Election Day, yogis vote.

Underlying Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash

Being Present Through Transitions

The ‘official’ summer season, as opposed to the calendric summer that still has a few weeks to go, has come to an end. Back to school, back to work, back to whatever we get back to when September arrives.

September is a month of transitions.

The Sanskrit word ‘sandhya’ describes a juncture between one time and another, such as the time in between night and day when the sun begins to lighten the sky from beneath the horizon. The three daily sandhyas – dawn, noon, and dusk – are times when traditional yogis stop for a moment of mantra meditation to reconnect with the overarching spiritual intention of their daily activities.

A sandhya can also be thought of as the time of transition when we are neither here nor there, the in-between stage of moving from where we’ve been to where we’re going.

This can be a very challenging period in our lives because we have let go of the familiar and don’t always know where precisely we’ll end up. It’s a little like circling around the dark side of the moon: there’s bound to be some uncertainty about what lies ahead, about whether your trajectory will really take you to where you planned to go.

In our physical yoga practice, especially in vinyasa yoga, the transitions are a part of the practice. The movements from one pose to another act as a metaphor for transitions in our life off the mat. When we develop the habit of being conscious not only in each pose but in the transition from each posse to the next pose, we develop our ability to be fully present during whatever transitions we may go through in our lives.

Like dawn, noon, and dusk, the movements between poses can act as opportunities to reconnect to the overarching spiritual intention of our practice. And staying fully present in our practice for the whole duration of our practice is the real key to developing an advanced yoga practice.

As often as not, we may experience a moment of disconnection when we begin to move from one pose to another. We think about the pose we’re currently in or the pose we’re moving into but the movement through space-time that takes us from one state of being to the next state of being can easily slip away from our conscious awareness.

So this month I’m going to focus on sandhyas: the time of transition from one state of being to another, the connection point between where we’ve been and where we’re going, and the opportunity sandhyas give us to deepen our connection to our spiritual intention.

Photo by Arnaud Richard on Unsplash

How to Help Students Let Go

I was speaking with a fellow yoga teacher last week about how to integrate philosophical themes into our classes. She mentioned that sometimes she’s not so interested in hearing any philosophy, that sometimes she takes a class with the intention of just letting go of stuff that’s been weighing her down.

And when she takes a class to unload her own stuff she’s not particularly interested in hearing about the teacher’s stuff. It’s a common practice for teachers to connect with students at the start of a class by sharing a bit of what’s going on in their own lives.

For me, it’s standard operating procedure: I always come prepared to share a little bit of my life with my students as a way to inject some element of yoga philosophy into my class.

Many of the teachers that work with me do so because they want to learn this particular skill: the art of seamlessly embedding yoga philosophy into a class in order to help students connect their outer physical practice to a deeper inner practice.

But sharing a personal realization about yoga philosophy can go either way. For one student, it may be exactly what they needed to hear in order for them to be able to let go of whatever they needed to unload. For another, it may be just the opposite: unwelcome static that hinders their ability to let go of whatever they were hoping to let go of.

So, what should a yoga teacher do? Should a yoga teacher share their personal realizations as a way to teach yoga philosophy or is it better to just invite students to use their practice as a way to work out whatever they need to work out? [Read more…] about How to Help Students Let Go