How To Get The Ultimate Gift From Your Yoga Practice

In the early 2000s I used to lust after houses, yes lust.  I would look at the quaint look of their outside sidings and imagine how I would eat strawberries in their porch in the summer.  A house was the American Dream for me, an ex-Argentinian brought up in a city with twenty million people. I needed quaint. I needed quiet.

strawberries?
I thought happiness would manifest inside those cottage walls just because a piece of paper called a deed would crown me queen of my domain.

Not only that  but after watching the episode of Sex And the City where Miranda -the lawyer- buys her own apartment in NYC, and is reinforced by her friends "now that you have your own place you will get engaged"  (as if it was Murphy's law), I was convinced. House, Love, Marriage, BABIES!

Queen of the Quaint in the house whose Deed had
my name on it, shovel in hand
Roots. Even immortality! A ray of sunshine peeking through my morning drapes every morning as I sipped the coffee on whatever my favorite mug was that day, kids screaming all around me. HOME!

And a home I bought. A home? a Nightmare is more like it:  It came with a mortgage way beyond my means when taxes and other hidden expenses where added (who knew whole pipes could break? who knew not having a driveway big enough to fit two cars would be an issue?)

Now-a-days, with the nightmare way in the past (it was sold while I was at a Vipassana meditation retreat in 2009, and after much prayer when I suddenly lost my job), I look at houses very differently, I see them for what they are: a pain in the ass, a maintenance hurdle, a debt to a bank.  Some people do it differently, some people even do it right. Not me, I will never be a house-keeper it seems.

Funny how "housekeeper" often refers to someone on the lowest rung of the totem pole while a "a keeper of a house" is the highest rung in the American religion. The skills don't fit the crime.

I live along the Hudson River now. The entire scenery is bucolic. I live in an ex-hotel-turned-home. Everything around me simmers with that morning beauty. Which brings me to asana.

By the Hudson River
What if I have been using asanas in the same way that I wanted to own a home? As a means to an end? As the way to happiness? To some sort of self-satisfaction? To a certificate?

Yes I fell through the validation trap early on myself, no shame in it.  What if asana or the eight limbs of yoga suddenly became a "thing" we need to do to get somewhere, somewhere other that "HERE"?

Watching Eckart Tolle has had the profound effect of making me practice being in the moment not JUST when I sit at the cushion but AT ALL TIMES.

Watching the present moment while at asana has resulted in other miraculous moments as well, for example, remembering Richard Freeman saying "asana needs to feel good".
Asana feeling good.
What!? It is a COMPLETELY different experience when I set out to feel good rather than to get to the end of primary series and my bit of intermediate.  Because when "feel good" is in the mix I enjoy the stretch, the breath reaching each part of the body, the retention of breath if merited (modified Janu B or maha mudra), the connection to every tissue, ligament, fibre of my body.

Being present means I can regulate my energy, and sometimes that energy even takes me on an unexpected, uncontrollable journey -  the poses fling themselves at me in the right order for that day, the poses wait for me to finish them, sometimes I even skip some primary poses because that way I have energy for those intermediate ones I am learning. And sometimes I just play with the poses in ways new to just me.

Being present for asana and letting go of all preconceived ideas (trying to, hoping to be Kino) brings me joy, challenges me deeper, lets me understand and go in. It relieves all pressures.

experimenting
Being PRESENT for asana helps in being present for pranayama later, or meditation, or doing dishes, or making love.

It sets the tone of the day for being present at all times, for the only practice worth practicing, that of coming to the only reality there is, that of what is happening right now.

I can't always do it. It's a practice. Practice makes permanent. But sometimes when I'm present for those glimpses, I get the most unexpected of presents - happiness.


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6 comments:

  1. Practice makes permanent.  Love it!

    Buying a house is something that a lot of people do wrong, including me.  I'm stuck in your 2009 nightmare right now with a house that I bought wrong, hate living in, can't afford, and can't maintain.  And I've bought and sold about 10 other houses so I should have known better.  We're about to be renters again.

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  2. John, I feel for you, know what you mean!  Hope the transition is quick and that it all turns well, as it will :-)

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  3. The picture of the house above is very much like the one I always imagined.... but the need for it has pretty much fallen away now.  Not all together, but pretty much. It really is a silly dream.  The same with all the stuff we're supposed to buy.  Where do we think we're taking it, in the end??? And what do we need it for?  I think in terms of having now, all I really need. Santosha?  Contentment.

    My asana practice is all about feeling good, my moving meditation.   From the very first class I took.  At times I grasp for a particular posture, for more, but mostly I just love each moment and the way it feels for me.

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  4. That is beautifully put Jody :-)

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  5. I really like how you bring it around to any activity, whether it's meditation, doing dishes, making love.  And all, in the end, happiness.  

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  6. yes, presence is happiness might be the next bumper sticker :-)

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