In her article, she maps out several reasons why she believes we have become too dependent on GPS devices. To begin with, she talks about the process our brains go through in creating mental maps: “When exploring a new territory we perceive landmarks along a route. By remembering their position and the spatial relations between the streets, locations and landmarks we pass, we are able to develop survey knowledge to react and navigate comfortably”. She goes on to say that physical maps help to build cognitive maps and that the more we rely on gadgets to get us from point A to point B the less we are making cognitive connections in our brains; the use it or lose it theory.

“A GPS device normally provides bare-bones route information, without the spatial context of the whole area. We see the way from A to Z, but we don’t see the landmarks along the way. Developing a cognitive map from this reduced information is a bit like trying to get an entire musical piece from a few notes”.

We need to hear the whole piece of music and then go back and break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks. Just as in yoga we cannot expect to execute a complicated asana simply by looking at someone else doing it, but rather detailed instructions are needed, the development of proprioception (our awareness of where our body parts are in relation to each other), as well as a dedication to practice. Developing proprioception will increase our discernment; we will be able to tell where and how an asana is having an effect. To achieve improvement of strength, posture and flexibility we have to change our very patterns of movement. This awareness requires conscious effort and ultimately with practice and repetition these changes will be stored in our unconscious and because only when a conscious change takes place on the level of the nervous system will something really change.

How can we know where we are in space?

There are three systems in the body that contribute to the function of balance: the visual system, the vestibular system and the proprioceptive system. The visual system contributes to the execution of balance as it provides feedback as to where we are in space. The vestibular system is a network of canals in the inner ear supplying information of our head’s position (tilted, rotated, flexed or extended). The proprioceptive system is composed of sensory receptors in the muscles and tendons that inform the central nervous system as to the varying lengths of muscles, as well as force loads traveling through tendons. This notifies us as to how and where our body and limbs are oriented in space.

The human body has many regulating control systems that function via the nervous system. Receptors exist in our muscles recognizing when the length of the muscle fibers are changing. These act as a protective mechanism for the muscles. With excessive lengthening of a muscle, a reflex will be initiated which will cause the muscle to contract in order to prevent a ligament sprain or muscle strain injury. A similar regulation system exists in tendons, but it instead is dependent on the force being loaded through the tendon rather than on its length. These two regulatory systems of the muscles and tendons contribute to what is known as proprioception.

In yoga, the notion of proprioception can be witnessed when analyzing what is known as “the yoga foot”.  It is taught that the longitudinal and transverse arches of the foot should be lifted. This means that both the inside and outside of the foot should lift while ensuring that all four corners of the foot remain in contact with the floor. The toes should be spread and should not be used as a lever by which to maintain lift through the arches. Therefore, they should gently rest on the ground. This “yoga foot” helps to increase the sensory feedback to the central nervous system, therefore improving the stability of the body in the upright position.  Working with the yoga foot through poses will heighten the sensory feedback from the body, especially during balance poses during which the proprioceptive system is ultimately challenged. Via this challenge, great improvements to the system can be made.

Taking our time to plot out where we are going in our practice, by establishing the correct footing at the onset is vital to creating a mental map and thus increased balance between where we are now and where it is we want to go.

I read something touching written by Thich Nhat Hanh several years ago where he asks: “What is right?”.  This simple question felt like a wake up call; something strikingly tall against the usual more dwarfed question of: “what’s wrong”. Asking: “what’s wrong?” is a gesture of sensitivity and compassion but somehow places an unintentional limitation to other.

By asking: what is right we open ourselves and others up to possibilities.

I meet a friend on the street, she is clearly sad, upset about something. I am a sensitive person, so I check in: “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?”.  I wake up in the morning feeling a little groggy, upset by some thoughts I had that kept me awake in the night and I focus in on this feeling that something is wrong.  Things shift, for sure, time has a way with things and with the movement of things. But, what if when I woke up I asked myself: “what is right?”. How about the next time I run into my friend I ask her: “what is right today?”. Is this insensitive? Is this Pollyannic?

By asking ourselves what is right we shift our consciousness to a place that feels hospitable and where we can relax.  “When I have a toothache” says Thich Nhat Hanh “I discover that not having a tooth ache is a wonderful thing. That is peace.”

We’re entering into winter’s shoulder month now, that’s how I see February. In February there is a a quiet that follows December’s holiday busyness and January’s resolutions.  In February there is darkness that by month’s end gives way to new growth and shifting light. In February we can take our time to ask ourselves and others: What is right?

In his marvelously peaceful book: To Bless the Space Between Us John O’Donahue delivers a plethora of heart-felt wisdom by way of blessings.  The following blessing strikes me as coming to the hear of the notion of asking what is right. It is written for Someone who did you wrong:

Though its way is to strike

In a dumb rhythm,

Stroke upon stroke,

As though the heart

Were an anvil,

The hurt you sent

Had a mind of its own.

Something in you knew

Exactly how to shape it,

To hit the target,

Slipping into the heart

Through some wound-window

Left open since childhood.

While it struck outside,

It burrowed inside,

Made tunnels through

Every ground of confidence.

For days, it would lie still

Until a thought would start it.

Meanwhile, you forgot.

Went on with things

And never even knew

How that perfect

Shape of hurt

Still continued to work.

Now a new kindness

Seems to have entered time

And I can see how that hurt

Has schooled my heart

In a compassion I would

Otherwise have never learned.

Somehow now

I have begun to glimpse

The unexpected fruit

Your dark gift had planted

And I thank you

For your unknown work.

By asking what is right we give ourselves the opportunity to witness a shift.  Time will make some room, just as the breath makes room in our bodies to move more freely. When we ask what is right we are in essence taking emotional stock, monitoring our emotional EKG and tuning into the nitty-gritty of who were are at a whole level.

Allow yourself to dwell in what is right.  The “other” will still be there, but strangely it might fit differently now.

How are you?

What is right?

Elizabeth

“Do you drink milk in your coffee?” the juicy, young counter-woman asked. “Sugar?” Then: “do you only drink coffee in the morning?” These suddenly felt like very important questions for which I answered as best I could.  “Do you like chocolate cake?” She went on. Coffee, I just wanted to buy a pound of coffee. “I like a dark coffee, I reminded her with a smile”
“Have you tried our: La Perla De Oaxsca, from Mexico?” She pointed to a near by chalkboard where these words were written, to add emphasis to her assertion that she knew what I wanted, what I liked. “It’s a medium blend. You can actually taste bits of chocolate cake in it, especially when you add milk (which I had previously admitted to doing)”.
I was a bit hungry. Chocolate cake suddenly became evident on the sides of my tongue. I was beginning to digest fictitious bits of cake, my taste buds and this young woman were working together, I had other things to do besides stand around in a coffee shop discussing beans.  So I bought it. I bought not only the beans, but also the idea of the beans.  As I was leaving the shop, she smiled a sweetly conquering smile and said: ”You know, medium roasted coffee has more caffeine!”
This morning I made my Mexican coffee. It looked suspiciously light, suspiciously medium, but I persevered.  I imagined my decadent chocolate cake, could almost see the bits of cake floating in my glass Bodum as it mingled with the hot water, “baking”. Finally the time came for me to plunge the coffee, which I did slowly, not wanting to miss out on any part of this new experience. I poured it and I added milk.  Everything else was done: the dog had been fed, along with the cat. Last night’s dishes were put away, in my mind I had a list of what needed to be done today and when/how it would all happen, my head was clear, I was ready to just sit with my coffee, and those of you who partake in this ritual (and it IS a ritual) know just how delicious this can be, not only as a taste sensation, but as a way of connecting with self (is drinking coffee yoga?!). I brought the warm mug to my lips, took a sip and tasted medium blend coffee; no cake, no magic. I don’t like medium blend coffee. I threw it away. I knew I didn’t like medium blend coffee, but I believed in the beautiful, young, enthusiastic woman behind the counter. She seemed so fresh, so convincing and although I know what I like, I also didn’t want to feel stuck in a fixed idea of things having to be one way or another.

Just as coffee itself isn’t good for you, I think it is important not to get stuck into a fixed idea that it is “bad” or “good” We make choices.  Things do not feel comfortable in our lives all the time, but it is a good idea to ask what they might be pointing to, what there is to learn.  In other words, it’s important to be open to new ideas. One central lesson in Buddhism is to free ourselves from fixed ideas, to open ourselves to the possibility of seeing something differently.

Thich Nhat Hahn says we should ask ourselves this: “Am I sure?” to emphasize the importance of maintaining what is known as a beginner’s mind.
While buying a pound of coffee is hardly a Buddhist act, this experience seemed like a fairly harmless way to test the waters of staying open to new ideas. I recommend this, I recommend trying out small opportunities for experiencing change.
Steve, fortunately loves medium blend coffee, so all is not lost and I look forward to asking him whether or not he tastes bits of chocolate in the cup I will make for him later.
Namaste.

Perhaps my own increase in cycling has influenced my perception, but I like the wheel analogy; it seems wider, more encompassing for now.  There is movement with wheels and wheels don’t need to be reinvented! We can re-cycle, cycle through the various aspects of yoga’s spokes by learning from others, by taking what makes sense and leaving behind what does not through questions and inquiry.  Wheels are like breath; we want to reach out from our center, expand to the rims, the edges of our consciousness.

Bicycling is yoga, cooking is yoga, walking is yoga, communicating with friends is yoga. Yoga is everywhere!  My bicycle wheel of yoga is full of spokes. It’s big and wide and turns easily.  How I move my feet around the pedals, the consciousness I bring to the “practice” is what makes it a mindful experience.  Yoga is a tree AND a wheel. Yoga is what you bring to who you are.  Enjoy your practice in all that you do.

The four seasons touched a lot of people; Vivaldi comes to mind, as does Carole King and Thoreau.  Yesterday I spoke to a friend in Minneapolis.  It’s mid-March and usually, she said, around this time “we are experiencing what the locals call: shack nasty”.  Shack nasty, she informed me is the local vernacular to describe how you feel when you’ve been holed up for the past 6 months of freezing temperatures and a fresh dump of snow falls down like and insult from the sky.  This is the time of year; she confided in me, “that we always feel like moving”. But “the shack” didn’t happen this year.  This year she said she was riding her bike to work along the Mississippi River in a sundress.

We still call them seasons; we still day “last spring” to reference an event, but spring isn’t as predictable as it used to be as far as conjuring up an image goes.  We’re all experiencing change and, as usual adapting to those changes.  We human beings are good at that; revolutions of change occur and we change shape to accommodate.  Nowadays when you walk down a busy city street, most people are looking down, texting or looking out into space at nothing in particular as they talk on the phone connected by a wire. We used to think a person was crazy if they walked down the street talking out loud to themselves, now we just assume they are on the phone. We used to hear the sound of a frog and wonder which direction it was coming from, now we think: oh, I haven’t heard that ring tone before.  The boundaries of seasons are as blurred as the boundaries of time. When are we working and when are we not working? Cell phones have changed the shape of how we pass the time.

How am I passing my time? I ask myself occasionally. Time is different for me now that our kids are no longer at home and our dogs have unfortunately died.  I look in the mirror and see that the shape of my face has also changed over time; I am in a new season.

Psychotherapist, yoga teacher and Buddhist, Michael Stone says:” In a way the past gets swallowed up and can never be retrieved. And in another sense the past actually doesn’t go anywhere. Time doesn’t pass. It can’t. What is it that’s passing?”

Things are passing; like lives and ashes in the current, like looking at old hairdos.  Buildings pass as I stare out the window of a train and experiences pass in the film reels of our lives.  Sound passes as discs spin and CBC radio announcers share stories with us.  What are we doing in the passing moments that accumulate and end up defining who we are?  Time is gone but we are actively here: right now.

My daughter sent me a cartoon; it’s of a cell phone.  The caption is displayed on the phone itself and reads: “Awkward silence, quick, pick me up and play with me!”

How are we spending our time?  What are we buying and not buying with it? What are “okay” shifts over time and which ones do we want to resist? How are we creating boundaries within our current revolution?

I saw a worthwhile two-hour monologue when I was in New York recently called: The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs.  Mike Daisey captivated us for two hours with facts, fiction and opinions on how Apple products are a lot like religion.  It was thought provoking at the least and I’d say go see it if you ever get the chance, it felt important.  In the latest issue of Shambala Sun there is a marvelous article on the subject of change.  The authors took old photos and recreated the scenes as much as possible.  They got the original people in the photographs to wear the same expressions, clothes and things like that, then they placed the two photos side by side.

Change happens slowly over time (sometimes) like hair going grey, automobile designs shifting to reflect our current economy and our global status, and the way we dress.  Change happens quickly sometimes too, like death.  Suddenly leaving the feeling of a hole in our hearts, we reflect on when time was different, we refer to photographs to affirm those “other” times.

I sit to meditate and bring my awareness to the present moment.  It’s all right here, right now.  Moment by moment.

]]> http://www.yogahouse.ca/blog/changing-seasons/feed/ 0 http://www.yogahouse.ca/blog/praise-be/ http://www.yogahouse.ca/blog/praise-be/#comments Fri, 13 Apr 2012 21:50:20 +0000 workingdesign http://www.yogahouse.ca/?p=606 I want to write about praise. About how small gestures make a big difference. About how when we TELL someone that we appreciate the work they did, the impact they made on us it makes a positive change and a shift occurs.  A simple gesture, like smiling, like when we smile at someone for no reason and he or she smile back, a total stranger, something has changed on a micro-level of consciousness.  We don’t want to plant new growth in an area where an invasive, non-indigenous, poisonous plant was, I learned, as the soil is tainted.  We need to change the composition of the soil, alter it slightly, like a smile, like a simple gesture.

Two folks from the Mayne Island Conservancy came over to our house on a Sunday afternoon to walk about our property, show us around, acquaint us to what was really there. It was like going to a museum with my sister, the painter who paints the background of art history, points out the subtleties of brush strokes, and provides me with a contextual awareness on a level that I otherwise would have missed.  We slowly walked around the property; Helen, Chris, Steve and I making new discoveries and learning about things I never knew about before.  Praise Be to the Mayne Island Conservancy; their volunteers and their good ideas.
My daughter sent me a u-tube link the other day about “lollipop leaders”. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVCBrkrFrBE

If you care to watch the short, 6-minute talk, you will understand the reference, but essentially Drew Dudley speaks about small moments in time when we acknowledge the actions of someone who helped to make a change in our lives.  He sees this, taking the time to offer praise as a way to embrace leadership. He tries to encourage us to take “leadership” as a concept, down from any pedestals and make it an ordinary, everyday practice.  I like this, my thumb goes up here, not on Face book, but right here, in the Mayneliner for people like you and me to read; not because I want to promote or not promote, market or not market but just as a small gesture of praise, thanks and well leadership.
Praise Be to Nancy Schneider who made an incredible difference in the lives, gardens, dogs and food we all experienced.  Praise Be to Chris Fretwell and Helen O’Brian, Leanna Boyer and all the other folks involved with the M.I. conservancy.  Praise Be to my husband who, for the past 15 years has seen me through blending our families, following my dreams and still manages to smile at me every morning despite what mood I bring to the table before my yoga practice! Praise Be to my sister who has the courage to paint and the conviction to teach.  I encourage praise; simple acts of leadership and smiling at change.

Namaste,
Elizabeth

The baby has learned something in the clip; he’s learned that paper rips, he learns about cause and effect, that one thing leads to another, he learns he can make others laugh through his own mirth.

We’re learning all the time, knowledge is all around us; all it takes is a little curiosity and some time.  When there is nothing at stake, like the baby, learning is fun! When we dismiss the pressure of achieving expertise and let go of a preconceived notion of how long it should take to “get” somewhere, it remains a pleasure.

Learning is often sequential. We have to start with the basics, internalize the foundations and embody the concept before moving on. This can sometimes get lost in modern times; we get snippets of news feeds, sound bytes of stories on the hour, we hear something late breaking while something else flashes on our screen.  We don’t all use computer screens or television screens to learn about things (though many do) but even still, there is the screen of life and what we “see” each day in front of us complete with our own added distractions.

I have decided to learn more about computers. My father, a business man in his day used to say: “You can’t stick your head in the sand, Lizzie”. He was one of those guys who liked those little sayings, not quite aphorisms, more like fortune cookie sayings, but they stuck in deep.  Since I find myself living in a technological revolution I thought I would try to catch up: I read books on a Kindle, (sometimes) I write things (like this) on my computer first rather than on bits of scrap paper as I used to, and I am really hoping to learn how to be a better book keeper this year so that at the year’s end I am not tinged with dread and self–loathing for all that I didn’t do during the course of the year.  This doesn’t come naturally to me, so I have tried to break it down into manageable, sequential, learnable chunks AND ask for help.

Yoga is a sequential learning process too.  We learn the basics, embody the foundation, and look at the concepts just like anything else. And, just like anything else we can place a lot of unnecessary pressure on ourselves if we try to do too much too soon.  Iyengar Yoga is known for its sequencing techniques, for taking a series of poses and logically executing them in a way that brings about the best outcome for a given situation.

Iyengar Yoga is characterized by great attention to detail and precise focus on body alignment. Mr. Iyengar pioneered the use of “props” such as cushions, benches, blocks, straps and sand bags, which function as aids allowing beginners to experience asanas more easily and fully than might not otherwise be possible without several years of practice. Props also allow elderly, injured, tired or ill students to enjoy the benefits of many asanas via fully “supported” methods requiring less muscular effort.

There are actually rules about which poses should go where in order to best address the nervous system, cardiovascular system or endocrine system.  It’s a life-long learning process and it is through the practice of a system of asanas, that Iyengar yoga aims to unite the body, mind and spirit for health and well-being. This discipline is considered a powerful tool to relieve the stresses of modern-day life which in turn can help promote total physical and spiritual well-being.

There is great learning to be had available to us in so many ways and through so many channels these days that the practice becomes at times to turn inward and to look at the basics: 1) get on your mat 2) see (feel) how you feel 3) start with what you know, with the basics 4) challenge yourself, yes! 5) but always remember to laugh, let the paper rip, fall over and have a good time.

~J. Krishnamurti

If you were to ask me: Who is your Guru? I would have to answer: my dog, Buddy.

We made the decision to put our dog, Buddy, down August 11^th after witnessing him in such terrific pain and imbalance that he began to fall over like a child’s stuffed toy without warning.

I spent the preceding hours before the vet came to our home just lying down in his bed with him.  A few people asked me what I was doing…“nothing, just lying down with Buddy”.  This seemed like the most honorable way for me to acknowledge his place in my life; after all he’d been following me around for the past 12 and a half years no questions asked.

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross worked with terminally ill patients in a hospital near Chicago in the 1960’s where I grew up.  There, she formulated generalized stages of dying, like: denial, anger, bargaining and finally, surrender.  However, in reality there are no stages but only the incessant changes of the mind.  A moment of denial or anger opening into acceptance until a moment later the mind curls back on itself in depression, fear, trepidation and confusion.  It is the roller coaster mind constantly changing, opening and closing, fluttering in the face of reality.  Buddy didn’t go through any of that, he just followed along until he couldn’t anymore and then it became my job to step in on his behalf.

I pulled out all my books on death and dying, the ones I went to to find solace in order to try to understand my mother’s death 10 years ago.  It was interesting to read my notes in the margins, see what I had underlined and to reflect on how time affects our grieving.  I found this passage: “If the dead be truly dead, why should they still be walking in my heart?”  When my mother died, I remember turning to the hospice worker asking her: “ Where did SHE go” incredulously.  She replied: “She’s IN you, in your sister, your aunt and everyone whom she loved.” This explanation made sense.  We like to make everything last forever, but it is important to include loss in our philosophy of life.  I also found this quote: “It is said that when Plato was very near death a friend asked him to summarize his life work. Plato came out of a coma to answer.  He looked at his friend and said simply: practice dying”.

At the end of each yoga practice we “practice dying” with the pose of the corpse, called Savasana.  Some believe it to be the most important and the most difficult pose.  It is easy to skip over Savasana, rationalizing with oneself that we don’t really have the time.  But that’s like saying we don’t have the time to let go and so we walk around instead in a place of holding; holding onto what, an illusion of control? When recently asked, “Is death real or an illusion?” one of the remarkable teachers of the Tibetan Buddhist tradition answered: “death is a real illusion”.

The day and night before we put Buddy down a steady stream of family members, neighbors, and friends came by to share stories, look at old photographs and just sit around with Buddy. Others phoned, others still emailed ~ the love and support was boundless.  We can learn a lot from a dog. I know I did:  sit, stay, breathe deeply, and love unconditionally.

Practice dying. Practice Savasana. Let go and forever walk in the hearts of those whom you love.

A guru is someone who brings you into the light.  Good dog, Buddy.

What is time? I began to shift my attention to this beloved existential question. Time, Aristotle speculated, may be motion. He added, however that motion could be slower or faster but not time. Aristotle did not have the privilege of knowing about Einstein’s theory of relativity in which time also becomes amenable to change. Similarly when Einstein was working to develop the theory of general relativity and proposed the revolutionary idea that mass curves space and alters time he did not know that the universe was expanding. This discovery, by astronomer Edwin Hubble, came 13 years after Einstein had published his theory of General Relativity.  Had Einstein known this he may have incorporated those ideas into his theories.

Our memory creates the past; conscious perception of events gives the feeling of present. Future is a mental construct patterned on the memory experience of the past.  The concept of time emerges, then as our mind tries to make sense of the world around us, which is filled with change. Measurement of time started early on in human development. There are plenty of clues in every language in the greetings and the meetings. Time of the day is related to the position of sun in the sky or its absence thereof. There is dawn, sunrise, early morning, morning, mid morning, noon, afternoon, late afternoon, evening, sunset, dusk, night and mid night. Then there are years, months, weeks, based on the earth’s yearly orbit around the sun and the changing seasons. Once we started using clocks, watches, and then digital time we got completely disconnected from the original method of measurement and time developed a life of its own. Time becomes evident through motion and is measured by comparison with other motions. Sunrise sunsets, night and day, the changing seasons, the movement of the celestial bodies are all indicative of continuous change.  The aging process is a reminder that molecular motion and interactions are also at work and are a part of time.  Alas, I am not a physicist.

In yoga, we move into stillness as we begin to observe ourselves in this very moment of time. Body and mind are ever changing, always blooming and the mind incessantly stays thinking. But underneath all that movement, all that “time” is complete stillness. It is vital that we give ourselves the opportunity to “practice” stillness, as it can slip away along with time, unnoticed and lost to what we call the past. In noticing time, we become aware of how we spend it and our feelings about that. A friend told me she felt guilty taking time for herself one afternoon “it isn’t productive” she said. But we must do this, we must allow ourselves time for self-care, to transition, to connect with our self , others, and our community. We need time to reflect and to pause in order to know from a deeper place what is right and true for us, get into time.  Stilling the mind through the practice of yoga allows the habits of thought to recede and the world to appear immediately, without the obstacles of concepts or time getting in the way of our direct experience.  Michael Stone says this: ”When the breath and mind move together as one, the central channels of the body open to the present moment, which is none other than what is occurring now. Like tracing a sound back to its source or seeing the water that makes up a wave, we keep the mind so intimately connected to the breath that the two become inseparable”.

We need to know what time it is, from (ahem) time to time, to get to the next moment and to show up for what is important, so I appreciate clocks, watches and other time pieces. I also appreciate what I take to be the bold metaphor and reminder to keep time on the outside, peace on the inside.

Take control of your inner time, the time you create for yourself: be bold, clock in with your self and what makes you tick.

“Yoga” my teacher has often said, “is no big deal”. This is one of the most endearing qualities of her’s; to be able to take something so old, so sacred, so revered and turn it into something that needn’t be onerous. In fact she often equates yoga to music and “conducts” her classes in a symphony of movements that seem to somehow transcend yoga, it’s subtle and it makes me giggle even though giggling isn’t really allowed. But that’s the point about yoga, there are laws and rules (called Yama and Niyama) but they merely serve as a sort of boundary in the passageway that helps us come back to now. They, as road signs say: Be truthful, have integrity, create freedom from addictions, let go. They remind us to live simply, find contentment, embrace purity and refine ourselves so that we can surrender to this present moment that some people call God.  But the present moment can be scary and it isn’t always comfortable.  “Now” as we know it can be elusive, as it slips between the cracks of our fingers.  So much happens in the moment despite our seemingly rabid attempts at times to keep ourselves from it; we walk and plan for other things, we talk to friends while sometimes doing something else, it’s multitasking and efficient and also habitual. Yet what we do now will shape the next now, or tomorrow.

It is essential to come back to our now, to our practice, daily or at least regularly. The practice itself can be simple, simple is good, but regular. We need to regularly show up for ourselves; simply and right now.

I am aware that I am now in a place of transition in my life.  My time is spent differently and where I spend it are not the same places I have always spent it.  I have experienced loss and things have changed. But these things are universal, indeed so many people I meet are in transition. Perhaps this too speaks to the notion of now and how now is no longer.

We have reasons (obstacles The Yoga Sutras call them) that we don’t show up for yoga, not class necessarily but our own yoga, whatever that means to us. In Yoga Sutra-speak these obstacles are: illness, fatigue, doubt, carelessness, laziness, attachment, and delusion.  But, we are told, they can be eliminated if the mind is repeatedly brought to a single focus. This single focus can be through the breath, by chanting OM or something else that speaks to you. But, it is about being, now.

The way of yoga is not a single, linear path. Rather, it is a complex method involving a radical change in the way we experience the world and conceive the process of knowing ourselves.  It gives us techniques with which to analyze our own thought process and finally to lay bare our true human identity.

Get to know yourself, get to know yoga, now.