I am a bit late for my entry this week, I apologize.
The second Yama is Satya. Satya is truthfulness, honesty, sincerity, genuineness. Here is the sutra on Satya from Patanjali:
satyapratisthayam kriyaphalasrayavam
satya truth, sincerity, genuineness, honesty
pratisthayam firmly established
kriya action
phalah results
asrayatvam substratum, foundation, dependence
"When the sadhaka (practitioner) is firmly established in the practice of truth, his words become so potent that whatever he says comes to realization."
When I read this, I observed the goosebumps permeate my entire body. Not only because, holy crap, it's true, but because it resonated so much with what I am personally struggling with in my life right now, this week.
BKS Iyengar's interpretation of this sutra is none short of brilliant. He says, "If the stated intention is totally whole-hearted, not one cell dissembling, then we create the reality we desire. It is not our mind, but the inner voice of our cells which has the power to implement our intentions."
So, yeah, remember those goosebumps I talked about? They were more like goose-mountains when I finished reading that sentence. I re-read it over and over again, as it made so much sense to me, but I didn't really understand it intellectually (which is, ironically, what the sutra is telling me to avoid doing). It reminded me of my 5-week experience at Canada's National Voice Intensive. In short, the Voice Intensive is a deep exploration of the physical body and the voice, and how we may fully breathe into each experience and simply be, rather than organize or intellectualize it. I think this is in essence what this sutra is on about. Or, at least, what Iyengar's interpretation is on about. When do we really allow our bodies to tell us the truth? Our mind may say one thing, but our bodies tell us differently. If we really tap into what our body, our cells, are telling us, and we act with impulse and our body's intuition, then we are really being our truth.
How do we manifest our dreams into reality?
As a Pisces, with a so-called "water triangle" in my astrological chart, I struggle with this question every day. I have no problem dreaming my butt off about this or that, but when it comes to sharing those dreams, or making those dreams a reality, I could use a bit of assistance. That's why this sutra so deeply resonated with me. This sutra tells me that in order to create my desired reality, I have to simply be truthful. Iyengar goes further than this by telling me that in order to create my desired reality, I must fully embody my truth, not just in my mind, but in my cells. If every cell in my body is not fully on board with what I want, chances are lower that I will get what I want. Once again, the real truth of this Yama is deeper than what superficially meets the eye. Someone reading about Satya for the first time might think, "oh, so, don't tell lies. Say what you mean." Well, yes, this is true. But there's being "truthful" and then there's being truthful. What would it be to speak the absolute truth, speak everything our cells were experiencing, for one week?
I'll be honest, I didn't do that. In fact, that is one of my main motivators for writing. I had an experience this week that really brought home the concept and practice of Satya. I'll just come clean about something I'm struggling with in my life these days. Here it goes- I'll share my cells with the blogosphere. If I am in the presence of someone I find attractive, I observe my body retreating into sleep mode. I completely freeze up, something with the texture akin to cottonballs gets caught in my throat, I feel everything tighten, and I can't really speak at all, let alone let the person know what I feel about them. Yikes. So, here I am at Cornerstone Café the other day, sitting next to a young man that I've had several pleasant interactions with at this point. He came up to me several weeks back, introduced himself, said he recognized me from the shop. Anyway, here he is sitting next to me, we exchange a few words, laughs. It suddenly comes into my awareness that I could, at this point, ask this person out for a drink. I sit with that for a moment. A moment turns into a few moments, a few moments turn into an hour. I sit with this idea, the concept of this action that would undoubtedly alter my self-perception, perhaps make me feel awkward for a moment, but in the end, due to my capacity to release attachment to these situations, ultimately add jet-fuel to my somewhat punctured self-esteem around this issue. This action wants so badly to propel forward, but somehow I can't muster up the courage to turn around, face this person, and speak what I want to say, so it sits there. And this horrible feeling comes over my body, that I'm on the cusp of turning 27, and I still feel like a 12 year old girl when in these situations. My mind is racing, telling me things like, "Lisi, if you don't get up the courage to do this, you're going to get old with the knowledge that you lived your life in fear" and several other debilitating thoughts like that. Sara Bareilles' song Brave came to my mind, particularly the lyric:
"Don't run, stop holding your tongue.
Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live,
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in..."
That was a good description of what I have felt in these situations: like I'm in a cage. I feel like the terrified child I used to be, afraid of everything around me that moved, debilitated by anxiety. I overcame all my fears from when I was four years old: this is not really all that different. How did I overcome those fears? I wasn't tossed off the deep end and expected to swim, but I was gently encouraged to face my fears, one by one, and eventually overcame them. This is really no different.
Obviously the universe was trying to tell me something that morning, because while I was sitting there, stuck in my cage, another man I find very attractive came into the café. The funny thing about this was that I have never seen this person come into the café. I have only ever seen him and interacted with him in front of his house. I very much want to tell this person I find him attractive, even though I know he has a girlfriend. But I know that I want to express these things not because I have an attachment to the outcome, but because I want to feel empowered to say these things when I feel them. Through telling other people I find them attractive, I tell myself that I am attractive. But here I was, in the same room as two men I find attractive, stuck in my chair, unable to move.
So, what does this have to do with Satya, you ask? Good question. Well, I realized that Satya is basically the law of attraction: I attract that which I am. If I embody my truth, fully believing it to be true, not one cell dissembling, I will undoubtedly attract what I want into my life. This idea took me through a journey, then, of what my cells were actually telling me. I know intellectually that I'm attractive, that of course I am worthy of being happy and being loved. But what do my cells say? In those situations, my body goes into a state of fear, and, without even thinking about it, the thoughts that run through my body tell me I'm not good enough, for any number of bullshit-ridden reasons. Because most of my cells are telling me I'm not good enough, my body language is likely projecting that idea out there, and I'm telling the world "don't look here, you don't want this." That is when I realized that our thoughts become the way we are externally perceived. Holy crap.
When someone is truthful with their whole body, allow themselves to resonate in their truth, they may manifest whatever they express. If you are honest with yourself with what you want, and communicate it, you will probably make it happen. Perhaps not right away. But at some point, something will manifest. I have been on either side of this. Either I have communicated too much of what I think I want, before I've really checked in with the entirety of myself to see if its what I want, and have later regretted acting before I was sure. On the other hand, I'm honest with myself with what I want, but I can't communicate it. This is where I am with my situation in the café. Because I'm too scared to communicate what I want, nobody knows what I want. The truth that only resonates within a few of my cells would vibrate my whole body if I communicated it. Because I am fully being my truth. If its just my mind telling me I'm attractive, then most of my cells are communicating that I'm not. Ergo, my cells are vibrating that I'm not attractive. Those little bastards.
Perhaps just communicating what I want will get me there. If I fully believe in my whole being that I am attractive, then I will be attractive. But the only way I will fully believe it, I'm starting to realize, is if I go act on my impulses and go after what I want.
Unless all the cells in my body resonate with my truth, I am not being truthful.
I leave you with that for the week. In short, Satya is awesome.
Namaste,
Elysia
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Ahimsa: the subtlety of non-violence
ahimsapratisthayam tatsannidhau vairatyagah
ahimsa: non-violence
pratisthayam: standing firmly, firmly established
tat: his
sannidhau: presence, vicinity
vaira: animosity, hostility
tyagah: forsaking, abandoning, deserting
"When non-violence in speech, thought and action is established, one's aggressive nature is relinquished and others abandon hostility in one's presence."
An important piece in studying the Yamas and Niyamas is looking beyond their superficial meanings, and looking at the intricate ways in which they play out in everyday circumstances. I thought about this all week when integrating the concept of non-violence into my life. And boy, it is subtle.
,
Well, what is violence, to begin with? The sutra says that if one understands the nature of violence, one can truly be non-violent. This means investigating the many subtle ways in which violence plays out.
Because I'm a word geek, and have a particular weakness for etymology, I looked up the word "violence" in the dictionary. It comes from the Latin violentia, meaning vehemence or forcibility. It comes from the roots vis, meaning force, and fero, meaning to carry. Thus, the original meaning of violence is to carry force.
The dictionary then gave me the definition of violence as "physical force used to inflict injury or damage", "a great destructive force or energy", "intense, turbulent, or furious and often destructive action or force", and my personal favourite, "vehement feeling or expression."
Holy wow. I wonder how many people see the word "non-violence" and skip over it in their minds, thinking, meh, I've never really hurt anybody, hey I've never caused physical harm to anyone, I'm good. I know I have. But this week really got me thinking about how many subtle ways there are to be "violent". It's not just hitting people. Of course, I've been exposed to this idea before, as I have some training in non-violent communication (NVC). Those of you who have not read Marshall Rosenberg's Non-Violent Communication: A Language of Life, I recommend you do so. It's an incredibly life changing book. It explores how by identifying our own and each others' feelings and needs, we move away from a reactionary, "violent" way of communicating, and towards compassionate communication. One of the most challenging yet rewarding things to do is to listen to someone and not judge, react, or give advice. Simply being a witness can be extremely challenging, especially for Type A personalities. Those of us who like to be in control, always be right, and fix everything, feel extremely challenged by "just being a witness to experience." As the sutra says, one must be non-violent in speech.
However, it is not enough to abide by the adage of kindergarten, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." If we want to work towards being non-violent, we must let go of the judgements that pervade our thoughts. Before I "don't say anything at all", I must first stop the judgemental thoughts that run through my head. Oh, and the word "judgement" doesn't mean a bad judgement. It just means an analysis of someone else's experience, thinking that we know something that they don't. For myself, I had to consistently fight that overwhelming desire to give sagely advice that I myself don't even act upon, rather than simply bearing witness to someone else's experience. It's removing an assumption that I somehow know better than someone else, it's wiping the slate clean and approaching another person's experience as a baby would. I have no idea how someone else experiences the world, what kind of a life they have lived, in order to be saying the things they say or doing the things they do. It's understanding that everyone is doing the best they can for where they are at, and to move away from judgement entirely. Even making the judgement that something is "good" can be violent. Heck, think about how damaging the mainstream education system can be with its external rewards system, getting a gold star every time we do something "good." Even then, I just recognized I made a judgement about the education system, rather than understanding where that system came from and why. And then I may judge myself for having a judgement, and the cycle continues.
This is not to say that we can never, ever have thoughts about something, or ever give advice. But for me, its being aware of the intention behind my thoughts or advice. It's stepping back and re-evaluating these thoughts and deciding whether its best to let them out of my mouth, or let them go and just be a witness.
This comes back to the definition and root of the word "violence", as a vehement force. Giving advice, or trying to change someone's viewpoint or action, is, in many ways, an attempt to force the situation. It's moving against the flow of the universe, if I were speaking in Taoist terms. Now, of course there are times in which this is necessary. If someone's about to hurl themselves in front of the subway tracks, I'm not going to say "meh, don't want to force the flow of the universe". Hey, I might even encourage someone to think differently about something or give advice once in a while. So what's the difference? I think it's my attachment to the result of my encouragement or advice. I have to accept that everyone is where they are at, and I personally am not going to change them. People only change on their own. They may be inspired by someone else, but the actual change occurs within, when they are ready to make that step.
This brought me to my most important conclusion this week, that I have heard over and over again in theory, but only really understood through examining ahimsa these past seven days. "Be the change you wish to see in the world" is a phrase that has been thrown around a lot, and one I've heard for most of my adult life without really understanding. Rather than preach to someone about how they should change, realize that by pointing one finger at someone else I point three back to me, and simply be in my truth and do my best to evolve myself. Let people do what they will do, unless it deeply affects you or others in some extreme way. Once again, I say all this within reason. Usually when I want to change someone's behaviour, it is something that I have not made peace with in myself, and is in fact something I need to work on. This is not only non-violent, but makes my life a whole lot easier to manage.
And then I came to the even more intricate and subtle elements of violence: that which we inflict upon ourselves. If we are inflicting violence upon ourselves, how can we practice non-violence toward others? We must first have compassion toward ourselves. How many times a day do I have a violent thought directed toward myself? How many times a day do I judge myself? Expect too much of myself? Not forgive myself? A whole heck of a lot, is the answer.
I'm not really, overall, what you would call a Type A personality. But there are some aspects to myself that certainly are like that. I can have quite extreme patterns that rotate in a binge-purge type cycle that goes on until the end of time. I lack patience for myself in making changes in my life. We humans are creatures of habit. We develop habits because they serve us in some way, and they are comfortable. We can't tell ourselves to pack all our bags and leave all of our possibly destructive habits at once. We can't, and yet I've attempted this several times in my life. After several days, weeks, months or years of lax eating habits, watching too much TV, laziness, not reading enough, etc etc, I decide to burst forth from my room and wipe the slate clean. I want to run a marathon, eliminate every so-called "bad food", write a novel, join the circus and of course, save the world. And then, after less than 24 hours, I'm even worse than before, because we humans simply are not able to change that much that fast. There comes a time, and for me that is my late 20s, when we can no longer repeat our patterns, because they are too damn obvious. Yes, I could make the argument that feeding myself food that isn't nourishing, or sitting in front of a screen rather than reading or exercising, is doing violence to myself. However, it is also violent to expect myself to change overnight. As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day. Or, a thousand mile journey begins with a single step.
Make simple changes, Lisi. Not grand ones, because, remember all those other times you tried that? You bounced back. It didn't work. Be nicer to yourself. It's okay if you aren't perfect. If some of them fall through, don't worry about it.
So the other day, when I was too tired to do anything except lie in bed and watch TV, I released my guilt and enjoyed it. Actually allowing myself to do that for a day was actually what I needed. Yes, I could have been reading instead, or writing a Dostoyevskian novel, or working on my plan to solve world hunger, but my body needed rest. And the next day, I felt so much better, especially without all the guilt hanging around, too. Gevalt.
There are many ways in which we could look at the violence of our actions. This includes the way we treat ourselves, our friends, people we don't know. It also includes our consumer choices and personal habits. We are so disconnected from our consumer choices that we may be inflicting violence when we have no idea we are. I wanted to talk less about this because I've spent a good chunk of my life talking about the consumer choices we should make, and, frankly, I'm tired of it. Though it might be violent to eat factory farmed meat, it is also violent to yell at someone in a fit of didactic rage that they should be more conscious of their meat choices. I would rather do that work myself and share what I've learned about how to practice non-violence in my thoughts towards myself and others.
Namaste.
Elysia
ahimsa: non-violence
pratisthayam: standing firmly, firmly established
tat: his
sannidhau: presence, vicinity
vaira: animosity, hostility
tyagah: forsaking, abandoning, deserting
"When non-violence in speech, thought and action is established, one's aggressive nature is relinquished and others abandon hostility in one's presence."
An important piece in studying the Yamas and Niyamas is looking beyond their superficial meanings, and looking at the intricate ways in which they play out in everyday circumstances. I thought about this all week when integrating the concept of non-violence into my life. And boy, it is subtle.
,
Well, what is violence, to begin with? The sutra says that if one understands the nature of violence, one can truly be non-violent. This means investigating the many subtle ways in which violence plays out.
Because I'm a word geek, and have a particular weakness for etymology, I looked up the word "violence" in the dictionary. It comes from the Latin violentia, meaning vehemence or forcibility. It comes from the roots vis, meaning force, and fero, meaning to carry. Thus, the original meaning of violence is to carry force.
The dictionary then gave me the definition of violence as "physical force used to inflict injury or damage", "a great destructive force or energy", "intense, turbulent, or furious and often destructive action or force", and my personal favourite, "vehement feeling or expression."
Holy wow. I wonder how many people see the word "non-violence" and skip over it in their minds, thinking, meh, I've never really hurt anybody, hey I've never caused physical harm to anyone, I'm good. I know I have. But this week really got me thinking about how many subtle ways there are to be "violent". It's not just hitting people. Of course, I've been exposed to this idea before, as I have some training in non-violent communication (NVC). Those of you who have not read Marshall Rosenberg's Non-Violent Communication: A Language of Life, I recommend you do so. It's an incredibly life changing book. It explores how by identifying our own and each others' feelings and needs, we move away from a reactionary, "violent" way of communicating, and towards compassionate communication. One of the most challenging yet rewarding things to do is to listen to someone and not judge, react, or give advice. Simply being a witness can be extremely challenging, especially for Type A personalities. Those of us who like to be in control, always be right, and fix everything, feel extremely challenged by "just being a witness to experience." As the sutra says, one must be non-violent in speech.
However, it is not enough to abide by the adage of kindergarten, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." If we want to work towards being non-violent, we must let go of the judgements that pervade our thoughts. Before I "don't say anything at all", I must first stop the judgemental thoughts that run through my head. Oh, and the word "judgement" doesn't mean a bad judgement. It just means an analysis of someone else's experience, thinking that we know something that they don't. For myself, I had to consistently fight that overwhelming desire to give sagely advice that I myself don't even act upon, rather than simply bearing witness to someone else's experience. It's removing an assumption that I somehow know better than someone else, it's wiping the slate clean and approaching another person's experience as a baby would. I have no idea how someone else experiences the world, what kind of a life they have lived, in order to be saying the things they say or doing the things they do. It's understanding that everyone is doing the best they can for where they are at, and to move away from judgement entirely. Even making the judgement that something is "good" can be violent. Heck, think about how damaging the mainstream education system can be with its external rewards system, getting a gold star every time we do something "good." Even then, I just recognized I made a judgement about the education system, rather than understanding where that system came from and why. And then I may judge myself for having a judgement, and the cycle continues.
This is not to say that we can never, ever have thoughts about something, or ever give advice. But for me, its being aware of the intention behind my thoughts or advice. It's stepping back and re-evaluating these thoughts and deciding whether its best to let them out of my mouth, or let them go and just be a witness.
This comes back to the definition and root of the word "violence", as a vehement force. Giving advice, or trying to change someone's viewpoint or action, is, in many ways, an attempt to force the situation. It's moving against the flow of the universe, if I were speaking in Taoist terms. Now, of course there are times in which this is necessary. If someone's about to hurl themselves in front of the subway tracks, I'm not going to say "meh, don't want to force the flow of the universe". Hey, I might even encourage someone to think differently about something or give advice once in a while. So what's the difference? I think it's my attachment to the result of my encouragement or advice. I have to accept that everyone is where they are at, and I personally am not going to change them. People only change on their own. They may be inspired by someone else, but the actual change occurs within, when they are ready to make that step.
This brought me to my most important conclusion this week, that I have heard over and over again in theory, but only really understood through examining ahimsa these past seven days. "Be the change you wish to see in the world" is a phrase that has been thrown around a lot, and one I've heard for most of my adult life without really understanding. Rather than preach to someone about how they should change, realize that by pointing one finger at someone else I point three back to me, and simply be in my truth and do my best to evolve myself. Let people do what they will do, unless it deeply affects you or others in some extreme way. Once again, I say all this within reason. Usually when I want to change someone's behaviour, it is something that I have not made peace with in myself, and is in fact something I need to work on. This is not only non-violent, but makes my life a whole lot easier to manage.
And then I came to the even more intricate and subtle elements of violence: that which we inflict upon ourselves. If we are inflicting violence upon ourselves, how can we practice non-violence toward others? We must first have compassion toward ourselves. How many times a day do I have a violent thought directed toward myself? How many times a day do I judge myself? Expect too much of myself? Not forgive myself? A whole heck of a lot, is the answer.
I'm not really, overall, what you would call a Type A personality. But there are some aspects to myself that certainly are like that. I can have quite extreme patterns that rotate in a binge-purge type cycle that goes on until the end of time. I lack patience for myself in making changes in my life. We humans are creatures of habit. We develop habits because they serve us in some way, and they are comfortable. We can't tell ourselves to pack all our bags and leave all of our possibly destructive habits at once. We can't, and yet I've attempted this several times in my life. After several days, weeks, months or years of lax eating habits, watching too much TV, laziness, not reading enough, etc etc, I decide to burst forth from my room and wipe the slate clean. I want to run a marathon, eliminate every so-called "bad food", write a novel, join the circus and of course, save the world. And then, after less than 24 hours, I'm even worse than before, because we humans simply are not able to change that much that fast. There comes a time, and for me that is my late 20s, when we can no longer repeat our patterns, because they are too damn obvious. Yes, I could make the argument that feeding myself food that isn't nourishing, or sitting in front of a screen rather than reading or exercising, is doing violence to myself. However, it is also violent to expect myself to change overnight. As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day. Or, a thousand mile journey begins with a single step.
Make simple changes, Lisi. Not grand ones, because, remember all those other times you tried that? You bounced back. It didn't work. Be nicer to yourself. It's okay if you aren't perfect. If some of them fall through, don't worry about it.
So the other day, when I was too tired to do anything except lie in bed and watch TV, I released my guilt and enjoyed it. Actually allowing myself to do that for a day was actually what I needed. Yes, I could have been reading instead, or writing a Dostoyevskian novel, or working on my plan to solve world hunger, but my body needed rest. And the next day, I felt so much better, especially without all the guilt hanging around, too. Gevalt.
There are many ways in which we could look at the violence of our actions. This includes the way we treat ourselves, our friends, people we don't know. It also includes our consumer choices and personal habits. We are so disconnected from our consumer choices that we may be inflicting violence when we have no idea we are. I wanted to talk less about this because I've spent a good chunk of my life talking about the consumer choices we should make, and, frankly, I'm tired of it. Though it might be violent to eat factory farmed meat, it is also violent to yell at someone in a fit of didactic rage that they should be more conscious of their meat choices. I would rather do that work myself and share what I've learned about how to practice non-violence in my thoughts towards myself and others.
Namaste.
Elysia
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Yamas and Niyamas: An Exploration: Introduction
I am currently in the midst (or, rather, more toward the endst), of my 200hr yoga teacher training. This has been an incredible experience for me in a number of ways. I have practiced yoga for about 10 years now (holy cow), on and off, but this training has been a great way for me to deepen my practice, as well as just get to know better the philosophy of yoga on a deeper spiritual level.
Taylor Lewis, my housemate and great friend for 8 years, has inspired me, once again. He's embarking on an 81-week intensive on the Tao Te Ching. You can follow his blog here. Anyway, his blogging got me thinking. Yogic philosophy is extremely expansive and complex, and I would be writing until I'm 100 if I decided to blog about it in its entirety. Essentially, and this is an incredibly watered down explanation, the aim of yoga is peeling away the layers of self, from how we act in the world to our inner life, until we reach the glowing light that is in all of us, Atman. Atman is the divine light within each of us, the universe contained in our soul. I have always been slightly uncomfortable and disconnected from the words "God" or "soul", but I can get behind the idea that within all of us there is a place of joy, of connection, of non-attachment and of stillness. This is Atman.
In traditional Yogic philosophy, we peel away these layers of self so we may one day (in this lifetime, or the next), reach Samadhi. You may have heard of this as Nirvana, or Moksha, or enlightenment. This is where you have peeled away all the layers of self and come to the true self, or Atman. It is where Atman, the soul, unites with Brahman, which is the universe. In this state, we want nothing and do nothing except for sit in meditation and be with our Atman. Few people practice yoga anymore to reach this state. Personally, that is not my goal. It's not even really a goal. Samadhi cannot be reached by trying to reach it. Observing each layer of self and working through them is the goal. For me, the purpose is not to reach some divine state but to live my life more fully and presently, and to be a continually evolving human being, letting go and releasing attachment to habits, patterns, and thoughts. This is my version of Samadhi.
There are many aspects to this peeling away the layers of self, many explanations of the same thing. One of these paths is the Eight Limbs of Ashtanga Yoga. Most people think of yoga as just postures (asana), or, I shudder to think, a workout. It is actually only one of the 8 limbs of yoga that are the path toward Samadhi. These limbs include the Yamas (universal morality), Niyamas (personal observances), Asana (postures), Pranayama (breath work), Pratyahara (control of the senses), Dharana (concentration and inner awareness), Dhyana (meditation), and, finally, Samadhi (union with the divine).
For this series in the blog, I am going to focus on the Yamas and the Niyamas for now. When studying the Yamas and Niyamas, it is key to look past the superficial understanding of them, and seeing the intricate ways in which they play out in our actions, interactions, and even thoughts. They are worlds within themselves, I could spend my whole life focussing on each one, so I figure its a good place to start. They are the first layers of self. I will be sharing each one, then spending a week with it, observing and integrating it into my life, then at the end of the week sharing my experiences. There are 5 Yamas and 5 Niyamas, so this will take me 10 weeks, and into the new year. I have been spending the last two months working on Asana, so I figured I'd go back to the top and start with the Yamas.
The Yamas are universal codes of morality. They deal with how we interact with the world around us. If we can work to purify our actions with our interactions with the world, we can then more effectively move inward towards ourselves. Rather than provide a list of the Yamas, I will leave you with the first Yama, Ahimsa.
Taken from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, this is Ahimsa:
ahimsapratisthayam tatsannidhau vairatyagah
Ok, you got that, right? Kidding.
ahimsa: non-violence
pratisthayam: standing firmly, firmly established
tat: his
sannidhau: presence, vicinity
vaira: animosity, hostility
tyagah: forsaking, abandoning, deserting
"When non-violence in speech, thought and action is established, one's aggressive nature is relinquished and others abandon hostility in one's presence."
See you in a week for my observances of Ahimsa in my life.
Namaste (the light within me bows to the light in you).
Elysia
Taylor Lewis, my housemate and great friend for 8 years, has inspired me, once again. He's embarking on an 81-week intensive on the Tao Te Ching. You can follow his blog here. Anyway, his blogging got me thinking. Yogic philosophy is extremely expansive and complex, and I would be writing until I'm 100 if I decided to blog about it in its entirety. Essentially, and this is an incredibly watered down explanation, the aim of yoga is peeling away the layers of self, from how we act in the world to our inner life, until we reach the glowing light that is in all of us, Atman. Atman is the divine light within each of us, the universe contained in our soul. I have always been slightly uncomfortable and disconnected from the words "God" or "soul", but I can get behind the idea that within all of us there is a place of joy, of connection, of non-attachment and of stillness. This is Atman.
In traditional Yogic philosophy, we peel away these layers of self so we may one day (in this lifetime, or the next), reach Samadhi. You may have heard of this as Nirvana, or Moksha, or enlightenment. This is where you have peeled away all the layers of self and come to the true self, or Atman. It is where Atman, the soul, unites with Brahman, which is the universe. In this state, we want nothing and do nothing except for sit in meditation and be with our Atman. Few people practice yoga anymore to reach this state. Personally, that is not my goal. It's not even really a goal. Samadhi cannot be reached by trying to reach it. Observing each layer of self and working through them is the goal. For me, the purpose is not to reach some divine state but to live my life more fully and presently, and to be a continually evolving human being, letting go and releasing attachment to habits, patterns, and thoughts. This is my version of Samadhi.
There are many aspects to this peeling away the layers of self, many explanations of the same thing. One of these paths is the Eight Limbs of Ashtanga Yoga. Most people think of yoga as just postures (asana), or, I shudder to think, a workout. It is actually only one of the 8 limbs of yoga that are the path toward Samadhi. These limbs include the Yamas (universal morality), Niyamas (personal observances), Asana (postures), Pranayama (breath work), Pratyahara (control of the senses), Dharana (concentration and inner awareness), Dhyana (meditation), and, finally, Samadhi (union with the divine).
For this series in the blog, I am going to focus on the Yamas and the Niyamas for now. When studying the Yamas and Niyamas, it is key to look past the superficial understanding of them, and seeing the intricate ways in which they play out in our actions, interactions, and even thoughts. They are worlds within themselves, I could spend my whole life focussing on each one, so I figure its a good place to start. They are the first layers of self. I will be sharing each one, then spending a week with it, observing and integrating it into my life, then at the end of the week sharing my experiences. There are 5 Yamas and 5 Niyamas, so this will take me 10 weeks, and into the new year. I have been spending the last two months working on Asana, so I figured I'd go back to the top and start with the Yamas.
The Yamas are universal codes of morality. They deal with how we interact with the world around us. If we can work to purify our actions with our interactions with the world, we can then more effectively move inward towards ourselves. Rather than provide a list of the Yamas, I will leave you with the first Yama, Ahimsa.
Taken from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, this is Ahimsa:
ahimsapratisthayam tatsannidhau vairatyagah
Ok, you got that, right? Kidding.
ahimsa: non-violence
pratisthayam: standing firmly, firmly established
tat: his
sannidhau: presence, vicinity
vaira: animosity, hostility
tyagah: forsaking, abandoning, deserting
"When non-violence in speech, thought and action is established, one's aggressive nature is relinquished and others abandon hostility in one's presence."
See you in a week for my observances of Ahimsa in my life.
Namaste (the light within me bows to the light in you).
Elysia
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