 |
|
|
Dear Friends, Yogis and Yoginis, This season's exploration at the studio centers around the seasonal rhythms. According to Ayurveda, we're in the season of VATA, which is the element of wind, air, space and ether. Vata is the winter season and its qualities are cold, dry, brittle, airy and mobile. As the trees have long let go of their leaves and drawn back to their roots, we see the expanse of sky much more readily. The wind is unobstructed by these slimmer branches. And at their tips they grow brittle, and sometimes snap. Vata is the experience of the self when our vastness is unobstructed. It is the immense sense of spaciousness. Consciousness. Inhalation and inspiration. It is also, in its highly mobile state, the experience of flitting about, of ungrounded, chaotic energy. At its extreme, we may experience it as a personal feeling of brittleness; and we may be prone to snap or develop a coldness toward life's ups and downs. What balances VATA is KAPHA. The elements of earth and water, Kapha is our capacity to find our ground, to root, to remember. It is our endurance, stamina and innate strength of being. It is, like the earth, forbearing and forgiving. Pema Chodron's writings speak so well to the journey from the pursuit of the "elevated and airy" Vata to the necessity of the "connected and grounded" Kapha. How many of us take up the spiritual path as a way of escaping, lightening our load, looking for transcendence from pain and confusion! Our culture today is highly proned toward Vata tendencies. We flit from one activity to the next, though we often feel weighed down and overloaded by our self made burdens. We're overscheduled, over stimulated and under-rested. We seek uplifting and expansive activities while losing perspective on the roots that sustains us. Sometimes the planet seems to spin so hurriedly we simply want to press the stop button and get off for a while. And so we seek, in the spiritual sense, a way to go around, get above, move beyond, head to higher ground. "Spiritual awakening is frequently described as a journey to the top of a mountain. We leave our attachments and our worldliness behind and slowly make our way to the top. At the peak we have transcended all pain. The only problem with this metaphor is that we leave all others behind. In the process of discovering our true nature, the journey goes down, not up, as if the mountain pointed toward the earth instead of the sky. Instead of transcending the suffering of all creatures, we move toward the turbulent and doubt however we can. We explore the reality and unpredictability of insecurity and pain, and we try not to push it away. If it takes years, if it takes lifetimes, we let it be as it is. At our own pace, without speed of aggression, we move down and down and down, and with us move millions of others, our companions in awakening from fear. At the bottom we discover water, the healing water of compassion. Right down there in the thick of things, we discover a love that will not die." * Pema Chodron As I'm in the midst of moving my studio to a larger location, I've had the opportunity to observe (again) the relationship between living one's passion and being driven by it. I'm "one of the lucky ones"; meaning the work I do in the world is also the work I do internally. I'm living my passion. And sometimes I feel driven by it. When I'm feeling driven by my work, rather than gracefully steering the course on a smooth terrain of ease and delight with blissful views, lovely expanses of sunshine and just right temperatures, I am certainly inclined toward the strategy that says "if I could just get this phase done, then..."; or "when I get through this..."; or "just one more e-mail...". I'm drawn, unconsciously, to the mountain top where I can escape, avoid, transcend the difficult work of being in the footsteps of this bookkeeping, this meeting, this database management, this sheetrock, paint and bamboo floor choices. Fortunately, when I'm feeling driven and the desire to escape arises, it is accompanied by neck pain. How can that be fortunate? Because the pain reminds me that I'm out of alignment with my life. It reminds me that I'm being driven, which one can only do to oneself! And that I'm seeking the escape route when what I really need is to STOP. REST. Take in the view. Climb down the mountain. Connect to the painter, the contractor, my dog, in this here and now. Breathe. Without aggression, tune in. Come back to the earth and the sweet heaviness of grounding. While vata is the energy of flitting about from one store to the next looking for coat hooks and tea mugs; and trying to take cell phone calls from the office while walking my dog in the woods; kapha is the enduring faith I have in the vision that I'm creating. It is also me dropping the story of isolation and returning to my connection back to humanity; we're all creating something in our lives. Self-importance pulls me away from this remembrance and in to the urgency of MY errands, MY phone calls, and MY schedule (think New York driver mentality here!). Pema Chodron says "and with us move millions of others". What a profound reminder! We have so much company. In the dharma, in the car, on the yoga mat, in the forest, in the music, in the parenting and the being parented, in the conflicts and the breakthroughs, the tenderness and the longing. And for me, in the construction dust and in the vision for the new studio. Thank you all for your enduring support! Many blessings, Sarahjoy |
|