Saturday, December 13, 2014

Kino on Yoga, Intense Seinfeld-like Emotions and Leg Behind The Head

I just watched the video below, in which Kino talks about something that many of us who have done the Ashtanga practice for a while would be able to relate to: Strong emotions that arise during practice. If you do this practice regularly, you would inevitably encounter times during practice when strong emotions come up. These emotions could range from anger, sadness, feelings of inadequacy about a particular aspect of your life, etc, and they often arise when you are about to attempt or go into a particularly challenging pose.

But in my case, what usually arises is not a particularly strong emotion, but some totally trivial episode in my recent life. For example, I often find myself mentally replaying some particular recent life episode just before I go into a challenging pose like Kapotasana or Karandavasana. Very often, the episode in question is some totally trivial yet somehow personally significant thing--usually something stupid that I recently said to somebody, or something stupid that I recently did, which I am not proud of--and it would just spontaneously replay itself in my mind as I am attempting to get my feet into a lotus position while balancing on my forearms in Karandavasana, or as I am walking my fingers to grab my heels in Kapo.

Well, if it is true that yoga poses activate certain parts of our bodies that store certain feelings, then Kapotasana and Karandavasana must activate the part of my body that stores Seinfeld-like episodes. Not sure if this is a good thing...

Anyway, I suppose I should stop editorializing here, and leave you to enjoy Kino's video. Enjoy!   

Monday, November 3, 2014

Yin, Yang, and breath as harmony between the two

The Way gave birth to the One;
The One gave birth to two;
Two gave birth to three [these three are yin, yang, and chi or life energy];
The three gave birth to the myriad creatures.
These myriad creatures, in turning away from the yin, embrace the yang;
Infusing themselves with breath (chi), they achieve harmony between yin and yang.

Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching, chapter 42, trans. Nobel Ang (the letters in the square brackets are my own annotations)

Earlier today, I sat in on my colleague's Asian Philosophy class. He is covering Taoism this week. During class today, we were reading Arthur Waley's translation of the Tao Te Ching (TTC), and I couldn't help feeling that Waley's particular translation was too... verbose, and too... English.

This is just me, of course. Waley is a remarkable person who taught himself classical Chinese and classical Japanese while working at the British Museum in the early part of the last century. Using his self-taught knowledge of these languages, he then went on to translate a large number of Chinese and Japanese classics, including the Tao Te Ching.

But Waley never visited either China or Japan, and never learned modern Chinese or Japanese. Which may be why I couldn't help feeling that his translation had a certain detached scholarly tone to it; a tone which somehow failed to convey the vibrancy and flowing immediacy of the Chinese language, as it would be felt and understood by somebody who has a more immediate immersion in the culture.

Which is what prompted me to do my own translation of the above passage from the TTC. I actually know quite little about Chinese philosophy, and certainly have less scholarly depth in this area than Waley. But I feel that maybe, in my own small way, I can make up for the lack of scholarly background with a more immediate and intuitive love of the language and how it speaks to me. Hence my translation above.


But I didn't write this post just to talk about translation. The above passage is one of my favorite passages from the TTC, and I feel it to be very relevant to what I was talking about in my previous post. The light and dark sides of ourselves (yin and yang) exist in a symbiotic and mutually dependent relationship. We cannot fully experience one without experiencing the other. In turning away from the dark (yin), we embrace the light (yang). But in order to turn away from the dark, one has to first be in the dark. In order to embrace the light, one has to first embrace, and then turn away from the dark. There cannot be one without the other.

What's also interesting is that we harmonize the two by infusing ourselves with chi or breath or life energy. Chi, as many of us know, is pretty much the same thing as prana. And since the yoga practice is a process of infusing our lives with prana, this also means that the yoga practice is ultimately a practice of harmonizing the yin and the yang, a practice of getting in touch with and harmonizing our dark and light sides.

Isn't this interesting? But as I said, I'm no expert on these things. I'm just musing aloud here, because this is what a blog is for. If you have any thoughts, I'll love to hear them.      

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Going beyond good and evil, getting one's heart cracked open

"The great epochs of life come when we gain the courage to re-christen our evil as what is best in us."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

We all dislike and are uncomfortable around self-righteous people. Well, at least I am. And I know many people who also dislike and are uncomfortable around such people. But before I go on to say anything else, let me just add that I myself have also been guilty of being self-righteous at many points in my life; some of those times have, incidentally, occurred in my writings on this blog.

But why do we dislike self-righteous people? It can't just be that they are annoying, although they are. It can't just be that they make us uncomfortable, although they do this too. Nor is it that they often happen to be right about the things they are self-righteous about, although, unfortunately, this is also often the case. I believe that, on a deeper level, we dislike and are uncomfortable around them because we feel that they are trying too hard to show the world (and themselves) that they are right. We suspect that underneath all this trying too hard, there lurks a certain disingenuousness (there is probably no such word, but I can't find a more appropriate one here). It feels like on some deep level, they probably don't believe enough in what they are proclaiming, and all this trying too hard is an attempt at overcompensating for this deep lack of conviction. Maybe they are hoping that if they can convince others around them of the truth of what they proclaim, they would also be able to convince themselves by proxy.

But this also means that self-righteous people are ultimately uncomfortable with themselves, with their own potential for evil--with their dark side, if you will. This may be why many young people who are passionately devoted to a particular cause or religious belief tend to be self-righteous about it. It may be that even in the arrogance of youth, they are able, on some deep level, to sense that their conviction in the lofty ideal that they so passionately try to believe in is, in the words of Elizabeth Lesser, "a brittle and untested ideal." And so they overcompensate for this brittleness by putting more fire and brimstone into their affirmations of this ideal to others.

But being self-righteous and judgmental is really not something that happens only to young people; after all, we do find that many older people can also be self-righteous and dogmatic about their ideals and beliefs. Being self-righteous is not something that happens only to a particular age group or race or sexual orientation; it does not discriminate, it is an equal-opportunity employer. It is a state of being that arises whenever one knows deep down that one does not believe deeply enough in the moral or religious ideals one professes, and tries to cover up this lack and overcompensate for it by judging others for being lacking in this ideal. In her book, Broken Open, Elizabeth Lesser talks about this in the context of an extra-marital affair that she had:

"Some will call my dance with the Shaman Lover just a clever name for an extramarital affair. Before I took the plunge with him, I would have had the same reaction. I would have been unsparing in my judgment of those who could be so deceitful, so morally lazy. I would have wondered if they knew the difference between right and wrong. Now I know that "right" without "wrong" is a brittle and untested ideal. Now I know that when we show only our light side to the world, our shadow grows restless, sucking into itself much of our energy and passion. In order to release my trapped energy and awaken my best qualities, I had to engage with my shadow. I had to see how everything that I judged and feared in others was also in me. I had to be broken open so fully that my whole self was laid out before me to own and to forgive and to love." 

If we try to affirm only the good in ourselves without also acknowledging, embracing and ultimately forgiving the evil, we would never really know ourselves fully and deeply, and "good" and "evil" would just be labels that we slap on particular actions or attitudes that we have at different times. Unless we acknowledge and embrace the evil within us and bring it into the light of consciousness, it will only fester in some dark corner of the soul. Alienated, it will either cause us to "act out" at some unforeseen point in the future--in which case we would have to confront and acknowledge it anyway--or it will stay hidden in the darkness for the rest of our lives, and cloud the soul as resentment, bitterness, and a certain sense of malaise towards all life.

It is only by acknowledging, embracing and forgiving this evil that we can ultimately become a wholer (again, there's probably no such word, but what the heck) version of ourselves, one who has gone beyond good and evil, and from whom love, creativity and joy flow ceaselessly like a mountain spring.


But all these are ultimately just big words if we don't actually do the work of allowing ourselves to be broken open and to face what comes out of this brokenness. And this is also where the Ashtanga practice comes in. If you have been practicing for a while, you will know that the Ashtanga practice isn't just about getting onto the mat six days a week and working up a big sweat while putting your body into some funny positions. You will no doubt have heard--and probably also experienced for yourself--that the practice on the mat is ultimately about giving ourselves an opportunity to confront our fears, our dark sides, in a relatively safe and controlled environment.      

I recently had the opportunity to experience this for myself firsthand. As you will know if you have been reading this blog for some time, I recently made a trip back to Singapore, where I'm from, after not having been back there for thirteen years. In order to convince myself to make the trip back there, I had to confront a whole bunch of fears and emotional baggage within myself (see this post for more details). The trip itself was a lot less terrible than I expected it to be (which shows that a lot of the fear was actually more in my head than anywhere else), and I'm glad that I made the trip and was able to reconnect with many friends that I have not seen for so many years. After I came back to the U.S., I also went through a bunch of emotional issues in my personal life; due to the rather sensitive nature of what I went through, I'm not ready to share them publicly on this blog yet. But suffice to say that going through and trying to work with these issues brought me to a place of vulnerability that I have not been in a while. Some days, I felt that I was going to lose my mind.

At the same time that I was going through all this, I felt a certain emotional textural shift in my second series practice. For my regular daily practice, I do half primary followed by second up to Karandavasana. Looking from the outside, my practice hasn't changed much over the last two or three years. I still haven't mastered Karandavasana; I can land the duck, but still can't quite come back up (a.k.a. Karandavasana Impotence). And second series as a whole is still very physically challenging and effortful for me. But over the last few months, I have found that the texture of this effort has undergone a subtle shift. While I still have to put in a lot of physical effort to get through my second series practice, this effort somehow feels more heartfelt, like it comes from someplace deeper inside of me. Less ego, more heart.

I emailed Kino and shared with her the above experiences in my practice and my life. She responded with the following:

"If you mean to say that Second Series is cracking your heart wide open then that is exactly what it should be doing... love is so big that it sometimes needs to break our limited notions of self before it has the space to move in. Second Series does just that—it breaks our hearts so that the new expanded terrain is big enough for love to embrace all the aspects of our life."

I don't think it is a coincidence that Kino uses the same words--breaking/cracking the heart open--that Elizabeth Lesser uses to describe the process of embracing the dark side within herself. Ultimately, any spiritual journey worth the name is a warrior's journey; we are warriors of the spirit , warriors who, allowing our hearts to be broken open, bravely venture within to confront, embrace and ultimately forgive our inner demons.

This is also why any genuine lasting change in the world must begin from the inside, from within the hearts of ordinary human beings who are at the same time spiritual warriors. Warriors who patiently trust in the fire of their own practice to burn through all impurities, using these impurities as the fuel, the force to power deep inner change.    

May the Force be with you.          

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Please attend this yoga workshop if you can

Before I go on to say what I'm about to say in this post, I'll just come right out and confess to you that this entire post is a pretty shameless yoga workshop sales pitch. But some things are worth selling and making a pitch for, and this is one of them.

So here's the deal: I'm going to Bozeman, Montana, over the weekend of September 26th to 28th, to attend a workshop with Bhavani Maki at the Ashtanga Yoga School of Montana.

Bhavani with Guruji and Sharath, Mysore 1997
[Image taken from Ashtanga Yoga Kauai]

Bhavani is presently based in Kau'ai, Hawaii. She is an international yoga teacher who has been authorized to teach Ashtanga yoga by Guruji, as well as by Baba Hari Dass of Hardwar, North India (okay, I've no idea who this guy is, but he sounds pretty awesome). Bhavani has also studied Sanskrit in Mysore with Professor Narayanacharya. She also recently published a book, The Yogi's Roadmap. In this book, she offers unique contemporary insights into the Yoga Sutra, linking the ancient teachings of this text with our modern understanding of psychology and the emotions.

I met Bhavani briefly back in the summer of 2007 on Maui, when I was attending one of Eddie Modestini and Nicki Doane's asana intensives at their studio. They invited Bhavani to be a guest teacher for one of the sessions. She led us through chanting some passages from the Yoga Sutra, and then gave us a brief lecture. She has a wonderful presence and a most beautiful voice. In addition, I have also heard that she is a wonderful teacher of asana, although I have yet to experience this personally.

Well, hopefully, I will get to experience this very soon in Bozeman. Why hopefully? Well, as of right now, the workshop is under-booked, and there's a possibility that it might not happen. Well, I don't want this to happen, for very obvious reasons. So I'm going to say a couple more things to (hopefully) entice you to come to this workshop. First, as you can surmise from the above, Bhavani is a great teacher who brings a wealth of cultural and psychological insights to the yoga practice and tradition. Your practice will definitely deepen and broaden as a result of studying with her. Secondly, but perhaps only a little less importantly, if you attend this workshop, you will finally get to meet me, if you haven't already have had the good fortune of doing so :-) Yes, me, as in Nobel of Yoga in the Dragon's Den, whose jumpbacks and considerable floating abilities are rocking the world even as we speak...

Anyway, I guess I better stop now before this post becomes an egomaniacal rant about my powers. But you get the point: If you are anywhere in the United States, and especially if you are within 500 miles of Bozeman, MT, please do consider coming to this workshop. It will be fun and insightful and... fun. Details about the workshop can be found here.  

Maybe I'll see you in Bozeman soon? ;-) 

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Sexual fantasies, false consciousness

A few evenings ago, I got together with some friends at the house of my friends J and L. There were five of us present: J, L, S, M and myself. After a few drinks, the conversation turned to the subject of sexual fantasies. There is some kind of rational professional rationale for talking about this subject, because J is a sociologist who does research in sexual deviance. In fact, I often have the feeling that J often uses his friends as impromptu and unofficial study subjects for his ongoing ruminations relating to his research.

Anyway, at one point in the conversation, J claimed that all people, no matter what their sexual orientation, have had fantasies about doing something sexual with somebody of the same sex at at least one point in their lives. Upon hearing this, M, who is a heterosexual female (as far as I know), objected that she had never ever had any sexual fantasies involving somebody of her own sex.

S immediately responded to M's objection with a very resounding "Bullshit!". S might be described as a predominantly heterosexual male who has, by his own admission, also had a couple of sexual encounters with members of his own sex. I do not know what M's internal reaction was to S's calling bullshit on her; after a few drinks, my social perception is usually less acute than it normally is... well, actually, my social perception even when sober isn't really all that acute either. But that's a story for another day. In any case, J immediately seized upon S's pronouncement of "Bullshit", and went on to expound what I understand to be a certain neo-Marxist socio-theoretical view. According to this view, as I understand it, a person's thoughts and feelings about things are really just epiphenomena that are parasitic on physical events and happenings. Well, I suppose a bit of explanation is in order here: To say that feelings and thoughts are epiphenomena is to say that feelings and thoughts really have no effect on events and happenings in the world, even though the person who is experiencing these thoughts and feelings might nevertheless have the illusion that her thoughts and feelings are affecting events and happenings. This view is neo-Marxist, because it is influenced by the Marxist view that many ideas (like religious ideas, for instance) have no effect on the progression of history, but are nevertheless seen by their adherents as having such an effect. Which is why Marxists typically believe that religion, being such an illusion, is the opium of the people, and that religious adherents are sufferers of false consciousness who must be rehabilitated or re-educated.

J, as I understand it, meant to apply this socio-theoretical view to explain why M might persist in believing that she has never had any sexual fantasies involving somebody of her own sex. The upshot is that if M claims that she has never had any same-sex sexual fantasies, then she must be suffering from some kind of illusion or is under the sway of false consciousness. Hmm... does this mean that M needs to undergo some kind of rehabilitation or re-education?

Leaving aside the question of whether or not M is in need of rehabilitation or re-education, I think you might be able to see that there are certain problems with this neo-Marxist socio-theoretical view. For one, if all thoughts and feelings are epiphenomena, then I think it is safe to say that about 99% of the human race suffer from some kind of illusion or false consciousness, since I'm pretty sure that about 99% of human beings believe that their thoughts and feelings do affect the course of events in the world. Wouldn't that mean that 99% of human beings need to be rehabilitated or re-educated? I'm sure you can see that this is patently absurd.

Moreover, even if this theory happens to be true, it still wouldn't explain why all people have had same-sex sexual fantasies, even if they aren't consciously aware of it. In order to be able to say that all people have had same-sex fantasies even if they aren't consciously aware of it, we would have to invoke some kind of Freudian theory of the subconscious or unconscious (or whatever the appropriate term is here), which would presumably explain how it is that people can have sexual fantasies without ever knowing that they have had them. Which means that if we want to be able to convincingly explain how all people have had same-sex fantasies, we would have to have some kind of hybrid Freudian-Marxist theoretical construct...

I don't know about you, but my head is really beginning to spin at this point. Which means I should probably quit writing right now, and go get something to eat. In the meantime, if you have any thoughts about any or all or some of what I have written above, I'd love to hear from you.       

Friday, September 5, 2014

Practicing with my silhouette

I haven't written anything about my practice in a while, mainly because practice is just this wonderful thing that goes on in the background of my life. It's sort of like the A/C or the heater; it hums happily in the background, doing its work and providing me with strength and comfort. What's there to say or analyze about it?

But this morning's practice might be worth saying a couple of things about. So when I practice, I usually shut the blinds in the living room before I begin, so that the sunlight doesn't stream into the practice space. It's not that I am afraid of sunlight; rather, I do this because otherwise, my body will cast its shadow on the wall of the practice space, and then I will always be tempted to look at the shadow of my body as it goes through the asanas on the wall. Which is obviously a drishti violation, but I also can't help feeling that it takes energy away from what I should be focused on (i.e. what is going on within my own body and mind).

But this morning, I forgot to shut the blinds before practice. By the time I noticed this, I was already in the standing postures. I decided that going over to shut the blinds and then resuming the practice would be too annoying and would disrupt the flow that I had going, so I just ignored it. What followed was... interesting. Because of the sunlight shining directly into the practice space, I was treated to the sight of my body moving in and out of various asanas throughout the practice. Damn... I didn't know my practice silhouette looked so good... especially when I was going into Kapotasana... And yes, I do know that all these are serious drishti violations, I don't need to be reminded of that ;-)

But at the same time, I felt that because I was constantly distracted by my silhouette, I was putting less focus and mental energy into the asanas. I have always believed that where one's gaze is is also where one's energy is directed, so all this pretty much confirms what I have always believed.

The other interesting result of this silhouette-gazing is that my practice speed somehow speeded up as a result: It took me only an hour and thirty-one minutes to get through half of primary and second up to Karandavasana (it usually takes me about an hour and forty minutes to get through this sequence). I'm guessing that gazing at my silhouette probably had a motivating effect on my practice, causing me to move faster than I normally do. Which may be a good thing (or not, I don't know). But either way, I probably won't try practicing with my silhouette again. Note to self: Always shut blinds before starting practice. Gee, I wonder how all those people practice in gyms with mirrors on all four walls. Must be really, really distracting...     

Monday, August 25, 2014

My mother's garbha

Today is the first day of classes of the fall semester here in Idaho. About half an hour ago, I was walking around in the student union food court, when a Chinese student stopped me. I know she's Chinese, because I had overheard her saying something in Mandarin to one of her compatriots just a few seconds earlier.

Anyway, Chinese person came up to me and asked (in English), "Hey, where are you from?" I stood in surprise for about two seconds, and then blurted out, "Uh... Singapore?" Her face visibly fell, and she said, "Oh, okay." And then she turned away from me. Apparently, I wasn't the person she thought I was, whoever that person might be.

As I walked away from her in a slightly puzzled state of mind ("Who did she mistake me for?"), a slightly mischievous thought struck me: If I were a little quicker on the uptake, I should probably have said, "My mother's uterus," instead of plain old boring "Singapore". Because, if nothing else, it is technically true that I am from my mother's uterus (as is she, and everybody else).

But since I am not quick on the uptake, I guess I will never find out what her response to this alternate response would be. Ah, the woes of not being quicker on one's feet!


Anyway, that was a (hopefully) cute little story from my little life here in Idaho. As you can see, there is nothing yoga-related about it at all; unless, of course, being quick on the uptake is somehow a siddhi. At this rate, I'll soon be reduced to posting off-color jokes on this blog...

But then again, doesn't womb/uterus translate as "Garbha" (as in Garbha Pindasana) in Sanskrit? So maybe there is something yogic here after all... but then again, "my mother's garbha" wouldn't quite elicit the same kind of effect as "my mother's uterus", would it?