Years ago, long before I started teaching yoga and when I was quite new to the practice, there were many poses I cannot do. Just the same, I knew it felt good to practice. I didn't know the reason why but I knew that after taking a class, my skin glowed, I felt happier, and my walk home would feel like I was skipping instead of walking. One day, after one of those classes, I saw two maya birds by the street, and I thought to stop and observe. I wasn't in a hurry and I wanted to see what they were up to. And there they were: one bird would take a few steps forward, the other would follow; one would perch up to higher ground, the other would follow. They did this for some time, like a courtship dance, and it was quite a pleasure to watch. It made me see the beauty of what is otherwise the ordinariness of life.
I feel that it is only during this month when the focus is "Why Asana" that I go back to this memory and I understand what went on there. Asana, the physical practice of yoga, trained me to pay more attention to what had been there all along. I saw things I didn't previously notice. And when we pay attention, we will come to realize that there is no such thing as a coincidence, and no such thing as ordinary, because everyday we live amongst tiny miracles, amongst beauty, amongst goodness. This life itself is a courtship dance. Even asana is a courtship dance where we learn to fall in love with ourselves. Asana has the power to make us feel more alive and more connected because we learn to be in the present moment. We learn to see things as they are; not as we are. We unmask, layer by layer, our defenses, our armors, our preoccupation with the past and the future. And so it does not matter what our physical body can "achieve" in the poses, because the movement of the body in itself is a miracle.
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When we meet people, we usually have a gesture that symbolizes this meeting. Depending on the nature of the relationship, the culture that we live in, and a number of other factors, the gesture could be shaking hands or hugging or bowing or saying hello or namaskar or namaste. We have these gestures to meet other people, yet it seems as though we don't have anything concrete in our daily lives to meet the person we spend the most time with-- ourselves. Do we ever get to meet ourselves? I think in asana, we do. When we move our bodies, we cultivate awareness that there is a consciousness inhabiting this body. On the physical level, we pay attention to sensations that may be new or unfamiliar. We may even feel our hamstrings for the first time. On the emotional level, we are able to observe how we feel. We take note of our reactions and tendencies when these emotions come up. Sometimes we may think nothing of feeling, and yet it is this ability to continue to feel that grounds us. The violence that we see in the world is due to people forgetting how to feel. The systematic desensitization has caused us our humanity. When we practice asana, we train ourselves to feel, to continue to feel, to see this ability to witness our feelings as a necessary component of being connected to ourselves and others. When we practice asana, we experience that there is this body that moves, the mind that reacts, and the soul that observes. The practice of yoga is seeing that we are not just one aspect of ourselves; but the whole of this self; and the whole of this self connected to the whole of all "others". The oneness is no longer an intellectual concept that we read about. This oneness now becomes experiential. And every time we do asana, we meet ourselves again and again, until eventually and inevitably, we realize that we have arrived. To everyone who has supported the Free-for-All yoga classes at the park I've taught since its first day September 22, 2012, thank you very much from the bottom of my heart. The last day of this class at the park will be on June 26, 2016, which will be the 138th free class I've ever taught. I hope you can come.
I am closing this chapter of my yoga teaching because I think the time is right. The classes have served the purpose of providing free yoga in exchange for my vegan advocacy. Students have been taught the connection between veganism and ahimsa (nonviolence), and some have even become vegans and outspoken vegan advocates. I am beyond grateful to have been able to do this, only with my website and word-of-mouth doing the promotions. I will of course continue my vegan advocacy through Manila Vegans which currently has both an active Facebook group and public community page, through my regular Jivamukti Open classes, and through my personal efforts on day-to-day activism. I felt that the time is also right since there are more and more yoga teachers, communities, and even studios who are hosting similar free classes or more affordable yoga classes. For regular students who have been attending the Free-for-All classes, I hope you can keep up your yoga practice in the way that best works for you, either through a home practice, or attending classes, or a combination of both. I am going to continue to offer my services as a yoga teacher for free, but this time in a different format serving a different community. It will challenge me in so many exciting and maybe intimidating ways, but I think for my teaching to mean something, I cannot rest on my laurels by continuing to take the same actions even as I see things changing in the community that I live in. To be able to teach yoga to underserved communities and communities healing from violence, I would need to learn new ways of teaching, incorporating sensitivities specific to certain groups, adjusting to language requirements, among others. Why this decision? I have always known it to be true that it is hurt people that hurt people. A victim who never heals becomes a perpetrator, victimizing himself or herself, or others, and usually both. Now more than ever, it appears to me that the culture of violence here in the Philippines is getting worse. Human rights are being diminished. Women's rights are being disrespected. Hate crimes are being committed. People who disagree with other people are receiving rape and death threats. At the height of my disappointment, I didn't know what else to do, so I did what I knew how to do-- practice yoga. It was a much gentler practice than what I am normally used to. In tears over anger, frustration, and even desperation, I asked myself how it is that I could feel so helpless. What can I do to stop this violence? What do I know? Then I realized I am a yoga teacher, and I can, in my own way, bring peace. But the kind of yoga that I need to start teaching has to get down and dirty. It can no longer be confined to a park where it is comfortable. I need to listen to the pain that I felt and do something about it. I need to go to prisons or shelters or rehabilitation centers. I need to go to where people need it the most. I need to do not one-off sessions but commit to a project that will benefit a community. I need to be present and show up, not just by teaching yoga exercises, but by turning yoga philosophy into something practical that people who are most directly affected by violence can use. I realize that I have to make the decision now by saying goodbye to the Free-for-All classes so I can focus on pursuing my next yoga project. At the moment, I have a couple of leads and one looks promising. Strange thing is, when my tears were rolling down on the mat as I made that decision, I didn't know where to start, and yet things appear as though they are going to fall into place. It turns out that as I was looking for a community to serve, a community that was looking for what I was offering also found me. It is no coincidence that the people and incidents in my life that mean most to me find their way to me, like the path of least resistance. I hope to see you this June before I bid the Free-for-All classes goodbye. Again, thank you so much for everything. Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu. May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all. There is a story of this man who was falsely accused, and was sent to prison for a crime he did not commit. He felt trapped by this injustice, and wanted nothing more than to break free. One day, his friend visited him and gave him a prayer rug. He had hoped for tools which he could use for escape. Despite his disappointment, he decided to use the prayer rug anyway. Everyday, he laid out the rug, and everyday he knelt on it and prayed. This went on for a while, until one day, he realized that the rug is weaved in a pattern that shows the route in which he could escape.
The story is a metaphor. We are like that man in prison, and we think that to be free, someone or something outside of us should give us the answers. We think if we have more money or have better relationships or become more accomplished or know the meaning of this life etc, then we could be happy. We fail to see that the path to our own freedom and happiness lies within us. It has been there all along. Our body is like the prayer rug. Just as the path to escape is woven into the prayer rug, our body is the storehouse of our karmas. Every action we have taken lives in this physical body. Every kindness we've shown, every violence we've participated in, every joy we've experienced, every pain we've felt is contained in this body. When we experience tightness or openness, tension or ease, our mind also reacts to it. The observation of how our mind reacts is part of the asana practice. By paying attention to the tendencies and habitual patterns of the mind, we can decipher that we are more than this body and mind, and we can free ourselves from our self-imposed bondages. The body then is not what keeps us from freedom; it is this body that will take us to freedom. And that is why we practice asana. |
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