Monoyogi's Blog

yoga en espanol

monoyogi — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 18:07:05 +0000

inhalo, exhalo, mirrors, music, and translation. yoga de uruguay con Laura. held asanas, pranayama in the middle and the same sweet svanasana. similar y differente. i am still taking in how great it is to know the language of yoga and to think that no matter where we travel, as yogis we might find that common link for ourselves-beyond national language– in the language of the body. I feel joy and connection this morning after my first class. I am the only gringa so far in a studio we share with polynesian dance and zumba. we must sweep up before we begin as we follow a crowded zumba class. I will be subbing for the maestra once I get to know the students and I am already writing phrases in Spanish and looking for inspirational poems. So i ask myself- here by the blue blue sea, what does the yoga heart desire? Here at the base of the mountains, do we need encouragement to look up and appreciate. There are no city stresses but there are stresses–scrabbling a living with multiple jobs, expanding the world with internet and constant and dramatic cultural change as the women go out into the workforce and the men add tourism jobs to their traditional fishing and ranching. education is the most important goal for young families as they face tremendous transition from tradition to a more modern life. i wonder how this striving can be calmed with asana, how the mind can be put to rest from the juggling. can our bodies make a home for the rhythm of the tides–transition to flow? any ideas my fellow yogis?

swimming at the edge of the holiday vortex

monoyogi — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 19:26:01 +0000

I have been doing the Hokey Pokey with the holidays-one foot in the yoga circle and the same foot out. I want to keep my focus and what to get for my daughter-in-law and will my sons feel a little sad if I but them a goat for a hungry family and not the usual warm gear tumbles with Navasana and my beloved dog. This is a poem- my lasting favorite from Ursula LeGuinn that pulls me away from the abyss. I offer it to you dear yogis. May you swim strong at the edge of the holiday vortex.

Infinitive

We make too much history.

with or without us

there will be the silence

and the rocks and the far shining.

But what we need to be

is, oh, the small talk of swallows

in evening over

dull water under willows

To be we need to know the river

holds the salmon and the ocean

holds the whales as lightly

as the body holds the soul

in the present tense, in the present tense.

A Meditation for the Old Masters

monoyogi — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 16:20:17 +0000

This week I was in Big Sur with my husband celebrating 20 years of marriage. We rented a small rustic room in the redwoods and settled in, hoping for just a day or so of light rain. By Tuesday morning the electricity was gone and the storm was on us. We read aloud taking turns with my husbands camping headlight-he uses it to read in bed. That lamp took on a whole new meaning in this storm. We also had a small battery lamp—not so bright—not so long-lasting. By Tuesday evening there had already been 10 or so inches, soon to total 20. I am just setting the scene here. After the restaurant generator was put to bed around 9, there was no light anywhere- in any direction. Not a candle or a battery lamp to be seen. Although I have been camping in very remote places there has always been at least the glow of stars. Now it was inky black–loud rush of water in the creek below–rain on the tin roof–squeak and saw of swaying redwoods.

Although I have a well-developed imagination, I have never before had such a strong sense of what it must have been like before the crush of civilization and technology that we have inherited. It was then I had a profound sense of our yoga ancestors. Floating on an island in a redwood lake in the dark, I realized the deep empiricism of their yoga, like the knowledge of the stars before the Hubble or even a small telescope. I felt so fortunate to have access to their knowledge in this present world. How would we ever have the time or concentration or silence to see the universe in the way they did, in the way that allowed them to know that they needed to create a path to the oneness they so desired—in a way that included the whole body and the whole mind. If I had known the chant I have heard a few times to honor them, I would have struggled through it then. Instead I had a gratitude meditation, imagining a light-filled cord winding through time and through unending bodies. All of the teachers. All of the practitioners. In this unlikely time and place, and out of the true dark, I felt the power of what we have been given. Namaste dear yogis, we are all part of this enduring tradition.

a yogi goes to disneyland-

monoyogi — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 19:17:39 +0000

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.

Jelly belly breath

monoyogi — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 14:30:53 +0000

Jelly belly breath– The last two weeks of focus on the breath have been very eventful for me. Breath has been an important focus since I began regular yoga in 2002. I was—and still am at times a backwards breather, a shallow breather, and, before yoga, always a mouth breather. All of these breathing habits began about age 7 when I experienced my first asthma. I am offering myself here as a case study-perhaps helpful for a future student. It is a long road to good breath and when Ms M instructed us to breath normally to establish a base for other types of breath, I silently went into my small sinking place. Oh for normal. But recently I have made a small leap—our readings, our practice, my imagination. When you are trying to breath, you are trying too hard-this I know. Joanna Macy begins a meditation with the suggestion to ‘allow the earth to breath you’. I try to surrender to this idea but I am most challenged during asanas. And then lately the diaphragm has been calling for an image and I have answered with a lacy white bride’s jellyfish-lovely and strong in the ocean’s tidal pull. It slips up under my ribcage when I inhale and weaves its lacy fibers throughout my abdomen, anchoring me for the exhale. I think of the jellyfish and allow it to breath me – it seems less distant than the world- more of a one on one relationship. When I am able to get through a studio practice with ‘almost normal’ breath you can hear it in my OM or my chant, my voice resonant with a clear vibration. Its then I know I’m close. This past Sunday I felt we were all there at the closing- all becoming, all one in our breath.

I have a beautiful image for this post but alas I cannot cipher the transport

leaf bodies in free fall

monoyogi — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 16:25:56 +0000

Dear Yogis I am wading in– catching the blog wave but not trying to catch up-just starting with now. This is my favorite time of year-changing seasons, weather and light. It is my first fall in Sacramento in two years and I am savoring it. How does the full juicy summer turn into sere, dry leaves that give their life falling from trees? So much in transition. On Sunday, one of the resident trees gave a limb to the season, its wood splitting from an aging branch. Will it continue to hold its own tree pose?

Now all I experience has a yoga lens and for me, a new focus on the body. I am constantly asking myself questions like how my body makes the transitions between countries and climates and, is it really the same body moving through each asana? I am learning about this body in a new way. Sometime in the last few weeks I realized that of all of the things we are learning, the language of the body has been the most riveting. It means developing a conversation with my own body- one I haven’t had before– so that eventually, when I guide a pose, I will know what to say in a way that comes from my own experience.

And the inspiration is everywhere. Like the tree with the broken branch I find that my body responds to its new posture as I try to steady myself with its new angles-then I think- tree pose- regaining balance when one part of the body feels lighter or heavier. I trust this process but I do have to watch my staring when it involves other beings…

So- a little off these musings –but I have been thinking of impermanence lately and I am offering a Robert Bly poem here that I heard recently on Prairie Home Companion. I apologize to the poet if I don’t have the line breaks right- I haven’t seen it in writing.

The nimble Ovenbird, the dignity of pears, the simplicity of oars,

The imperishable engines inside slim Fir seeds.

All of these hint at how much we long

For the impermanent to be permanent.

We want the Hermit Wren to keep her eggs,

Even in the storm. We want eternal oceans.

But we are perishable friends. We are

Salty impermanent kingdoms.