a yogi goes to disneyland-

Yama yama ding dong- when I opened the latest assignments and saw our next yama, non grasping, you’ll understand why I started laughing—somewhat ironically.  I had just returned from my first day and night at Dizzyland with my family- all centered on four and a half year old Jane- her joy and amazement our goal.  And now, after 3 days, suspending our beliefs and our disbeliefs, we have more than accomplished our collective goal.  Okay I could write epistles about this experience but of course I was thinking of non-grasping, non-holding, not using things to attach to a spinning world, not allowing things to keep us from the present time and present purpose of our very impermanent existence.  In Disneyland—aaaah the craziness of it all, the distraction and the delight of it all and, everywhere, the—dare I say conspiracy– to make certain that every visitor has at least one souvenir- to prove they were there, to remember the fun, to try to re-create the experience.  There are souvenirs at every turn, replicating every child’s favorite character in some colorful, soft plushy way.  After the wild ride, the exit through merchandise- you can be the character, you can own it, you can take the now with you into the future.  If there was ever a place for rampant grasping, the opening and closing of both hands at once, this was it.

Aparigraha in the back of my mind, in the front of my mind, I found myself close to tears so many times when I saw parents work hard to focus on the fun, on building family, on the moment.  And again when I saw happy faces leave the park without a bag in hand.  Well maybe just a small bag.

For me Aparigrha has been tightly woven with mortality.  Since I became 60, I have been in the process of paring down, letting go of things and ideas for the future that were tucked away somewhere unbeknownst to me until I started giving away things that would alter how I live my future life.  I dream of a Spartan existence-nothing around without its purpose, yet years into this process, I am not there- a little closer, but not there.  I am challenged when trying to determine what I need for my life as it evolves and what is empty sentiment.  This includes more than things for me, it includes ideas gleaned from others, ideas of myself, ideas about family and friends.  For this, yoga clarifies my mind, unclutters my closets of accumulation, those I am aware of and those slightly hidden.  Aparigraha has become an old friend-raspy, but a friend nonetheless.

Another poem… again Robert Bly and again I have not seen it written.

No one grumbles among the oyster clans

And lobsters play their bone guitars all summer.

Only we, with our opposable thumbs,

Want heaven to be, and God to come, again.

There is no end to our grumbling; we want

Comfortable earth and sumptuous heaven.

But the heron, standing on one leg in the bog,

Drinks his dark rum all day and is content.