Samtosha

Samtosha or contentment leads to unexcelled joy, according to Patanjali's Yoga-Sutras. The Mahabharata praises contentment in the following way: "Contentment is indeed the highest. Contentment is supreme joy. There is nothing higher than satisfaction. It is complete in Itself. Other ancient texts speak of samtosha as viewing things with equanimity. Here are a few reflections on samtosha from some of our teachers.

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Contentment. Hmmm. I never stopped long enough to think about that. I guess
it's when I have a full tank of gas, full client load...when I've balanced
my checkbook, paid my monthly bills with a few bucks left over and the most
important thing is when my dog is comfortable in her aging body.

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Samtosha is something I consistently try to cultivate in my yoga practice. I have found that by enjoying my breath and the sensations in my body during each posture (whether it be energizing, strengthening, relaxing or challenging- even the ones that I really hate), that I am more open to a sense of contentment in relation to my self, and to the world around me. In this past month I have taken to practicing out of doors, in the grass and among the trees, and have experienced an extreme sense of calm in being with other living things- the plants, the bees beneath my feet, the dogs running through the park- and have become convinced that they are all doing yoga! To me, samtosa implies a sense of rightness with your self and with what you are doing at any given moment, as well as with the gifts that you have been given. On my mat is an ideal place to realize this sense of completeness, and I strive to bring that truth into every action of every day, to make it all yoga, and to breathe in the beauty all around me; luckily July is an easy month for that!

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On samtosha - I feel that it is most important to realize that
contentment is available to us just as we are, just as our lives are in
every moment. It is not something outside of ourselves that we need to
aspire to or attain. For me the practice of expressing gratitude, to
others, to ourselves, and to our source, even when it might be hard to
feel, is the first step in experiencing contentment. I see yoga as a
practice of active gratitude for the life we are given. When I practice
connecting to myself and my source by attending to my body and my breath,
quieting my mind, and spending time in the present, I begin to feel the
gratitude from my heart rather than just know in my head that I should feel
it. So I keep doing yoga and saying thank you. I have moments of true
contentment, and I am grateful for them.

Mini Vacation

Day Trips:

Alex Ferm (3 hours):
High Banks Metro Park, Columbus, Ohio
"The one thing I do from time to time, it's like a mini day trip... I drive up to High Banks park on 23 and take a run through the trails there. It's so beautiful and lush in the summer."
www.metroparks.net/ParksHighbanks.aspx

Jordan Robinson (one evening):
Schiller Park, Columbus, Ohio
"Shakespeare in the Park, at Schiller Park. It's a lot of fun sitting/picnicking in the grass and watching the production."
www.theactorstheatre.org

Ben Redman (2-3 days):
Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore located 25 miles west of Traverse City, MI
"Located in Northwestern lower Michigan, along the eastern shoreline of Lake Michigan, Sleeping Bear Dunes provides the unique opportunity to climb giant sand dunes in the Midwest. The park also has hiking, fishing, bicycling and camping opportunities."
www.nps.gov/slbe

Malani Patel (2 hours):
Rejuvenate Nail Spa in the Hills Market Shopping Center, Worthington, Ohio.
"I love to get my pedicures. It's a great way to just relax and let yourself be pampered."

Angela Dancey (1 day):
Delaware, Ohio
"Delaware is a really cool little town. Start the trip by taking the drive north on old 315, easily the most beautiful road in central Ohio. Plan to have lunch at the Hamburger Inn and then go shopping at Captain Betty's, one of the best vintage stores in the country. It's like taking a step back in time."

Megan Cairns (1 – 2 days):
Hocking Hills, Ohio
"Go hiking at Old Mans Cave and then camp. For a more luxurious weekend stay at the Inn at Cedar Falls or rent a cabin."
www.hockinghills.com

Donna Winters (1 day):
Zip Line Canopy Tour Hocking Hills, Ohio
"I haven't done this yet but it looks incredible"
www.hockinghillscanopytours.com

Sylke Krell (2 hours):
Columbus, Ohio
"I wish I was more outdoorsy in the summer. Come August it is waaay too hot for me to be outside, especially in the afternoons. So, I like to go to the dollar movie theater for some heat escape. There is nothing like cheap second run summer blockbusters in a cold theater. Awesome."
www.cinemark.com

Tom Griffith (2 days):
Nashville, TN
"Arrive with enough time to do happy hour at the honky tonks then go to Ryman Auditorium for a show. Ryman auditorium is reason enough to go. Until 1975 it was the second home of The Grand Ol' Oprey. It's an amazing turn of the century auditorium with a great vibe. Stay the night and enjoy a wonderful drive home through the Appalachians."
www.ryman.com

Elizabeth Miller(1 day):
The Dawes Arboretum, Newark, Ohio
"A public garden of 1700 acres; approx 1 hour from Columbus; definitely a fun day trip; bring a picnic lunch and check out the website for the flowering schedule before you go; leashed pets welcome."
www.dawesarb.org

Aparigraha

"Polymers are forever" - that is a chapter title in Alan Weisman's new book The World Without Us. The book is a grand thought experiment exploring what would happen to the Earth if humans just disappeared one day. Surprisingly, New York City would be gone quickly, turned back into a swampy marsh once the electricity quits running its 753 pumps that relieve the city of the more than 650 gallons/minute of groundwater. However, the ancient underground cavernous complexes in Cappacocia, Turkey would last for millennia. But that's not quite as long as our plastic bottles, bags, and coffee lids made up of synthetic polymer chains. Currently, they would last forever.

In the middle of the Pacific Ocean is a place called the North Pacific Subtropical Gyre. It's a mass of mostly plastic refuse washed out to sea that spirals around a water vortex. Oceanographers call it the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. It's the size of Texas.

For several weeks when I would walk in to the studio's back door I saw a plastic six-pack can holder lying on the ground. I thought every time, I'm going to pick that up when I come out. And then I'd walk out thinking about class and pass it by. Eventually, with a heavy rain, it would make it's way into our sewer system, maybe even into one of our Clintonville streams, perhaps settle on the bottom of the stream bed and stay there until several ice ages from now evolution would finally produced a species that could digest plastic polymers. But last night I picked it up and put it in my recycling bin. Perhaps that small act will offset my greed of all things convenient in some tiny way. Like "Bob" said, "Baby steps. Baby steps."

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Aparigraha to me is Freedom within our minds. Not
attaching or grasping onto things. Sometimes when we
are attached, grasp, or even crave to things we can
eventually be disappointed, as for one day it may not
be there. Then what would you do?

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When first contemplating the idea of Aparigraha, I don't think it applies much to me. I have few possessions that I care about. I love to read, but I'm just as happy with a book from the library that I can return for someone else's use. Clothing and shoes are a necessary evil, and while I can take pleasure in them, I wouldn't mind giving these things away. There are, however, many ideas—mostly ones I hold about myself—that I hoard greedily. About a year ago, a friend with whom I work at the coffee shop told me that he felt I was always qualifying and justifying myself. He said that I feel an obsessive urge to have myself understood, rather than allowing others to see me from their own perspectives. Basically, he told me that I constantly try to control others and the view they may have of me. I was completely taken aback and for a few moments I tried to argue with him. He shut the conversation down with a few familiar words: "You're right. You're right."

The coffee shop is a dangerous place to work, one that needs to be negotiated with finesse, knowledge and grace. First of all, the shop is very small. In this tight space, elbows seem to elongate to deadly dimensions and counter tops can provide a blow to the hip that stays with me the rest of the week. Mild to serious injuries can occur if the partners of the coffee shop are not aware at all times of the space around their bodies. Second, there is hot coffee everywhere and, like the warning at the bottom of the cup tells you, it's very hot. Hot coffee grounds are especially dangerous. One needs to know the movement habits of each partner to navigate a 4-8 hour shift safely. In the beginning, I burned myself, spilled hot milk everywhere, exploded not quite empty whipped cream bottles, and once elbowed a partner in her head. The lesser dangers of the store are angry customers, impatient customers, and miserable customers who have been waiting a tenth of a second longer than usual.

When a mishap occurs, whether it is a mixed up order, grounds in the coffee or burning mocha spattered on legs, we have a game that we play. It's called the "I'm right" game. All partners take part, though some may be unaware of their participation. This game operates on a point system. When a mistake is made, all partners chirp the rationale for why what happened has happened. Then I take it upon myself to look at the evidence and proclaim one person right. That person gets a point. Partners accumulate points and whoever has the most points at the end of my shift wins the "I'm right" game. It's not so much that we partners are unable to own up to our mistakes squarely. It's not so much that we want to be right all the time. What we don't want is to be seen as wrong. Being wrong has got to be the scariest, most awful thing. Right? Most mistakes that occur at the store occur through joint effort. When we are busy, we operate as one whole organism, not separate entities. The mistake I make one moment will be made a few customers down the line by a different partner. So all the mistakes become the same mistake and they are one. The "I'm right" game, if taken seriously, can slow our progress and frustrate our efforts. Animosity forms and before you know it, fun storms out with compassion and objectivity. It's a sad, sad state to be in. We are, after all, only serving coffee and defrosted pastries.

Unfortunately, as the points accumulate, no prize is distributed. There is nothing productive or useful or joyful to be gained from the "I'm right" game. It is easy to indulge ourselves by playing this game. It is easy to quip, to make excuses and to deny responsibility, but in the end all it does is waste time. So, for just a few seconds, one person is awarded the preservation of the idea he or she has about themselves, but this security does not last. In fact, as points accumulate, and we each take our share of rightness, other things go wrong. The shop becomes more vulnerable to mistakes, elbows, and angry customers. A fractured coffee shop disorganized by finger pointing is a dangerous place. So what do I do when a partner tells me I haven't put enough coffee in Carolyn's cup? What do I do when I'm told that the correct abbreviation for the strawberries and cream frappucino is STCF and not STCRF? (I'm not sure which one is right, actually.) What do I do when I put non-fat milk in Gary's Venti Mocha instead of 2%? I practice. I practice Aparigraha, the act of non-greediness and non-hoarding. Each day I work to let go of the explanations, the excuses, and the "I'm right" points. I smile and I re-pour, re-write, and re-make. Sometimes I have to let go a few times. These things tend to grow back like weeds. Each instance of discarding my rightness, my "I already know that," my "well, if you hadn't done this, then this wouldn't have happened" is a painful moment. Afterwards, though, my mind feels clear and open.

Brahmacharya

Of the many interpretations of brahmacharya I have come across, I like this one the best,"emphasizing inner Ecstasy over outward focus of sensual/sexual energies" - Bruce Bowditch, Certified Anusara Teacher

Brahmacharya, rather than an act of repression and denial, is an act of stoking the fire of connection to something bigger than ourselves. Like the bandhas we use in asana practice, brahmacharya means being more aware of how I channel my energy – are we making choices in our daily liives to move closer to connection with Source energy or are we moving further away. As with all of the yamas and nyamas, it helps me to think of them not in terms of black and white or right and wrong, but in terms of what brings us closer to our true nature.

Brahmacharya can be practiced in every moment. For example, when I'm out at a restaurant and order that decadent cheesecake at the end of my meal, am I practicing brahmacharya? It depends. Surely it will bring me that inner ecstasy. I'd be following my bliss, as they say. However, if I'm already completely stuffed to the gills and only want to taste it to satisfy an overwhelming craving and then leave half of it on my plate, then no, I'm not practicing brahmacharya. I'm wasting all of the energy that went into making this beautiful dessert and I'm wasting my own energy trying to satisfy myself from the outside in. However, if I have mindfully eaten less dinner in order to make room for this delectable dessert and order it from a place of contentment (not desperation), then proceed to enjoy every bite with gratitude, then yes, I am practicing brahmacharya and eating cheesecake becomes a spiritual experience. So I must ask myself frequently, where do I concentrate my energy? Am I stoking the fire from within or trying to fill myself up with outside pleasures. When I feel lonely, anxious, scared, what choices am I making? Am I quelling the unpleasant emotions with sweets, TV, shopping? or am I stoking the fire, reinforcing the connection to Source through other means like asana, meditation, or simply sitting with the emotion and going through it rather than circumventing it with sensual shortcuts.

When we make the choice to embrace whatever emotions are arising and go through them, our connection to Source becomes stronger. The more often we make that choice, like a muscle, the stronger our discipline becomes and the easier it is to practice brahmacharya in each moment.

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In our fast-paced society where stress is predominant, we are surrounded by convenient and quick fixes - coffee, chocolate, fast food, TV, etc. and it is tempting to indulge in desires that can lead to obsession. We crave comfort in many forms and forget the simple pleasures in life as
we strive for more and more. I don't look at brahmacharya as a practice of denial or of giving up what gives us pleasure. Instead, it is a practice of seeing the divinity of who we are and recognizing the pleasure in what we already have.

I read somewhere that the practice of always wanting will always leave you feeling unsatisfied. It's so easy to see what we don't have and to ignore and not appreciate what we do have. The practice of brahmacharya can be practiced on and off the mat. On our mat, knowing what will serve our body, mind and spirit at the present time can help us to not push ourselves beyond what we need. Overextending, overstretching, overachieving, going beyond our limits can lead not only to physical injury but also to an unsatisfied mind and deflated spirit. Off our mat, we can become obsessed with an ideal that doesn't align with our own truth. We may want to be thinner, taller, richer, smarter, "fill-in-the-blank"-er, and our obsession leads to disappointment in ourselves. The practice of brahmacharya helps us appreciate who and
what we are at the present time without judgment. It is recognition of our own unique and individual needs which in turn teaches us that our own truth is indeed the ideal we strive.

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This is the yama that gives me the most trouble. As a woman, some commentaries on the yama bharmacharya simply don't relate. So I go back to considering what was said in the context of to whom it was said to glean some meaning that might be more applicable. As one of my cool yoga teacher friend says, "What I love about Patanjali is the permission to essentially not take someone else's word for it... But to kick the tires for yourself..." The inevitable flaw in this, of course, is that we incorrectly interpret these teachings based on what we most want to hear - extrapolating and then molding it to our own ego-driven way of thinking - and miss the point entirely. Nevertheless, fear of failing shall never hold me back (as witnessed by my many failings), so here goes:

Brahma - God, the Source
Charya - to move
moving towards the source
or, as found in many commentaries, moderation

This leads me to thinking about food, something I think about much of the time. Indeed, perhaps I was already thinking about food when I started thinking about brahmacharya. Food, moving towards the source, moderation. When I asked (read: begged) my yoga teacher for instructions on the yogic way of eating, he essentially gave me one very brief teaching, which was what was given to him: Eat close to the source. Or, since this was a spoken instruction, maybe it could be: Eat close to The Source. Here is our 5000 or more year-old tradition herding us back to what most of us Mid-Westerners already know. A tomato picked from our own backyard is a thousand times more delicious than even those organic ones flown in from California, supporting a non-local economy and gobbling up gallons of gas and oil along the way.

Is it possible to extrapolate and allow this understanding of brahmacharya to unfold in such a way? Methinks, this was probably not what Patanjali was originally guiding his young disciples towards. However, it seems very applicable for the here and now.

Food and moderation: Entire careers have been built on this concept. And the growing (literally) number of cases of obesity in the US speak to the urgency of heeding this advice. It's simple, really; dessert doesn't have to be at every meal, half of the sandwich can satisfy me better than stuffing in the whole no matter how good it tastes, and treating myself to coffee doesn't need to be multiple times a week. Small steps. Just like in playing with awareness in asana, it requires visiting over and over again, a moment to moment, day by day practice.

Food and moving towards the source: We are now far removed from our ancestors' hunting & gathering lifestyle and it's obligatory diet, but the Clintonville Farmer's Market is returning soon and I am so looking forward to it. I've often courted a vegan diet, but we've yet to make the commitment to one another. The CFM gives me a chance to use the fresh fruits and veggies available to make vegan recipes and get creative in the kitchen, all while supporting local farmers and eating closer to the source as I define it. The "moving towards the source" piece of this yama regards all of our energies. Does this action take me away from or towards God? Defining God is the subject of another reflection all together, one that is a lifetime's work, but it seems worth it to ask ourselves "does this food choice take me away from or towards my understanding of God?" It's a rich question, full of other richer still questions.

And, as I frequently do, I turn to my friend Hafiz, for further guidance on the subject:

The Vegetables

Today
The vegetables would like to be cut
By someone who is singing God's Name.

How could Hafiz know
Such top secret information?

Because
Once we were all tomatoes,
Potatoes, onions, or
Zucchini.

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Bramacharya (Haiku)

Continence practice:
I see what sits on my plate
And stop writing here.

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For me, bramacharya (abstinence or self restraint) is about focus. It is about knowing and nurturing our greatest strengths, not wasting energy on activities or relationships that aren't beneficial to our personal growth. If we are overly reactive to environmental stimuli, or cater too much to the needs of others, we spread ourselves thin, and can no longer put our best talents into the world. Bramacharya means truly loving and respecting oneself, and staying focused on that difficult task.

Summer Reading

Elizabeth Miller:

The World Without Us by Alan Weisman

"A great thought experiment exploring what would happen to Earth if humans just disappeared; narrative non-fiction; not a 'light' read but immensely interesting."

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel

"A wonderful read about a young boy crossing the Atlantic with a tiger on a small boat; explores religious and spiritual themes; one that you can't put down."

Alex Ferm:

The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner

"This book is a fun, but somewhat educational read that takes you all over the world on the travels of a grumpy journalist. It's a light read and made me laugh frequently."

Annie Tenwick:

Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

"I loved Eat Pray Love because it was funny and touching and I could relate to everything on some level because the author is so human."

Vanessa Mosier:

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier

"I read this a little while ago. I loved it. Most people have heard of this one but may have never taken the time to read it. It's a good read if you like art and romance—set in Vermeer's days as a painter."

Katie McKee:

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

"I'm not exactly sure why I love this book so much, but the jumping in time forces you to really pay attention to the story. I just liked it."

Tom Griffith:

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

"A truly great story teller; the kind of book you just blaze through."

Ben Redman:

No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July

"A collection of short stories that helped to remind me about the mysteries and joys of life."

Sylke Krell:

Into Thin Air by John Krakauer

"A harrowing story about an ill fated climb on Mt. Everest that ultimately evolves into a profound allegory about respecting nature, the wisdom of limiting the human desire to conquer at all costs, the role of chance in survival and the ability to endure in the face of extreme danger and profound loss."

Donna Winters:

The Inspector Lynley series by Elizabeth George

"All these books are great!"

Angela Dancey:

The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy

"This rediscovered, republished classic about a young American woman in Paris is what chick lit should be—funny, smart, and charming despite (or maybe because of) its flaws."

Queenpin by Megan Abbott

"A fantastic contemporary hard-boiled crime novel about an aging mob moll told from the perspective of her young, cynical protégée."

My Booty and Bakasana

My Booty and Bakasana
By Sylke

How do I put this delicately? You know what? I won't. I am big. I have always been tall and on the larger side. But right now, I am the heaviest I have ever been in my life, and I am finally okay with saying that out loud. I won't say exactly how heavy I am (a true lady never reveals her age…or her weight); I will only say that when I recently looked at the physical stats for the Pittsburgh Steelers I was shocked to discover I might have qualified for the team. Because of my hourglass proportions and propensity to gain weight in the lower half of my body, I am currently packing a little extra heat in the backside, which makes practicing yoga a slightly hilarious and somewhat scary endeavor.

I got this way after suffering a back injury while uninsured and living in New York. For about two months I wasn't able to walk without numbness in my right foot and for a year I couldn't walk or climb stairs without serious pain. Since my circumstances didn't allow for any extensive treatment, at first I got annoyed with my body, and then I just got lazy and let go, figuring I would always hurt. I also had a lot of stress in my life that made it easy to shift my focus onto other things, and away from my body. Then there was living in New York, which means an endless supply of great food that can be delivered directly to your door at all hours. Before I knew it, I had gained 20 pounds.

When I moved back to Columbus to start classes at OSU in the fall of 2007, I made a vow to start exercising. Because of my back injury, I gravitated to yoga. I came to Balanced Yoga on a friend's recommendation. I started in Hatha classes. The first three or four kicked my butt. Slowly, I became stronger and more confident, and eventually joined Vinyasa classes. Here I was confronted with the scariest pose I had ever seen, bakasana, that crazy arm balance where you rest your knees in your armpits and lift your feet off the ground.

Other yoga poses don't make me feel my weight the way bakasana does. The thought of putting the heaviest part of my body, my derriere, onto the weakest part of my body, my arms, is just plain embarrassing. When it came time for bakasana in class, all I could think about was falling, and the loud sound it would make. I felt like my weight was a serious physical limitation and that I would never get my butt in the air. I noted all the students around me, who I perceived as much smaller than I, could get into the pose with no trouble at all. There they all were, floating above the earth, and there I was, frozen to the ground.

I have a supportive therapist with whom I discuss everything, including my struggles with weight. She has been pretty insistent on me "owning" my body. But when I tried to explain bakasana to her with a demonstration, even she said, "Oh no. No way."

I do believe, in my heart of hearts, that yoga is for everyone. But it is a hard thing for me to remember when I am in a room full of people who seem much smaller and therefore much more adept at it than I. So, burdened with my own weight, I figured the "everyone" bakasana was meant for was everyone else, and I gave up on the pose. I wasn't ready to test my own strength.

As I progressed in yoga classes, I was slowly seeing results and even managed to knock out a couple of balancing poses that I initially found really difficult, specifically Half Moon and Tree. I found that as I created these poses for myself, I felt my weight less and less and feared falling less and less. Boosted by the confidence of finding balance on my legs, I eventually set my sights back on bakasana. I practiced plank and chaturanga dandasana with diligence, trying to improve my arm strength. When bakasana appeared in class, I forced myself to put my shins on my bent arms and stick my butt up to get over my embarrassment and actually feel the pose. Eventually I could come all the way up on my tiptoes, nearly balancing my full weight.

Then one night, alone in the privacy of my bedroom, fired up after a great class and convinced that I had finally arrived at my moment, I got into my baby bakasana, sure that I was going to fly. I gingerly lifted one, then two toes off the floor, only to tip forward and land with a solid thud on my forehead. Ambitious, but not very smart and definitely painful. In that moment I became convinced that in order to lick bakasana I needed to lose weight. So for a few months I labored under that assumption. I managed to completely defeat myself and became resentful of my body, and as a result I had to really force myself to keep going to class.

Finally, I decided to break my silence, stop the guesswork and ask some knowledgeable folks about the pose. I assumed that they would tell me in the most polite way possible that I was too heavy and too weak to achieve a full arm balance. Much to my surprise, every inquiry I made netted me the same answer: "It's not about arm strength--it's about core strength.'" Impossible, I thought. How the hell can my core hold my arms and legs together and keep my giant butt in the air? But, wait a minute. Doesn’t my core support me and hold me upright every day just walking around? I figured if it can do that, then maybe this whole bakasana thing was worth looking into again.

So with a new perspective on the pose and with a real emphasis on my concentration in class, I have finally gotten to the point where I feel like lift off is imminent. I no longer blame my weight and all my bad decisions for not being able to get into bakasana. Instead, I am working on making a really long spine, a super strong core and some seriously well integrated shoulders so that someday, hopefully soon, and at my current weight, I can get my feet off the ground without falling.

I guess for me, bakasana has become an exercise in creating strength through acceptance. And I have the sneaking suspicion that arriving in my first bakasana will be only the beginning. If that pose follows the rest of my yoga experience, it will become an action of acceptance, with observable results, that I will only want to repeat over and over again. Hovering over the earth balanced on my arms will become a part of my practice that has nothing to do with the work of balancing my butt, and has everything to do with the joy of supporting my booty.

Asteya

In the Yoga-Sutras you'll find aphorism II.37:

asteya-pratisthayam sarva-ratna-upasthanam

For those who have no inclination to steal, the truly precious is at hand.

Through March we reflected on Asteya throughout our practice (in yogasana and outside of it.) Here are some of our teacher and student reflections on the topic.

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At Starbucks after a boisterous greeting from me customers will often say, "I'll have what you're having!" I usually respond uniformly with a laugh or a smile or a "how about a grande non fat two equal latte? I know how much you like those!" The other day, though, I responded in a more lengthy perhaps overly serious tone. I told one customer, " I am in this state of exuberance right now as the result of my life experiences, nurturing, environment and of course my genes!" Basically I told them that it was impossible to have what I was having.

Of course, there are many times when I compare myself to others. I might tell myself that so and so is a better yoga teacher than me or such and such has a nice pair of shoes and all I have are these silly yellow boots! These are moments of stealing.

The act of asteya, non-stealing, are moments when I recognize what I have without comparison of or desire for what anybody else owns or does. With practice, like anything else, it becomes easier and eventually (I hope) automatic.
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In Yoga practice, and maybe in life it might be illuminating to determine what we truly value, and to discover how we steal from this. For example, on the mat I might determine that I value ease in breathing, only to find that my ego has pushed me farther into a pose than my easeful breathing can sustain. Off the mat, I may value connection, only to find that my fear of not being enough has undermined the ability to connect as an equal with another.

I think it is different to practice non-stealing from the point of view of ordinary consciousness than from expanded (Being/ Brahman/ Atman) consciousness. In ordinary consciousness I might follow Asteya, or any of the Yamas, because it is a moral precept and I want to see myself as a good person. I can tell myself I am complete and don't need to steal anything, and it might make sense cognitively, but I don't really feel and believe it. I still feel lacking.

In contrast, I suspect that the Yamas (and Niyamas) are qualities that an enlightened person embodies, naturally, as an extension of their ease and completeness in Being. When one truly moves from a place of Wholeness, then one feels complete. If one feels no lack, then to steal would serve no purpose.

I recently had an experience that felt like stepping out of ordinary consciousness into something more Whole. I was guided in a process of transforming a longstanding negative belief about myself into an appreciation of a beautiful Value that this belief protected. The process of transformation worked on the level of body, mind, and spirit. When I left, I felt able to operate in the world for some time in a way that felt Whole. Most strikingly, it was not colored by the usual stories about what I lack.

While I was not lacking, I did not need to take anything from anyone. I did not need reassurance to make myself feel better about myself. For a number of hours afterwards, I felt as if I were moving from Being- a very free, very relaxed state. For that short time, I felt able to make choices based on what I truly valued versus choices based on fear, i.e., trying to make up for what I have been trained by my culture to see as deficiencies.

Based on that experience, for which I have so much gratitude, I yearn to touch again this sense of wholeness from which I believe the spirit of the Yamas and Niyamas flow effortlessly.

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Why are the yamas important to us as yogis? As people and as a society, the importance is clear, keep society functioning smoothly, keep people from violating the boundaries of others, etc.... but as yogis, what makes them pertinent to our practice? What do they have to do with a handstand and shoulder alignment? I've been reading "Light On Life" by BKS Iyengar and his explanations of the yamas and niyamas are wonderful. He elegantly describes the connection between yoga practice on and off the mat and why the yamas, as a discipline, are a necessary part of our journey toward freedom. He makes a wonderful case for how living your yoga in the tiny, myriad choices of daily life do as much or more than yogasana in bringing us into alignment with our true nature, our eternal selves.

In the words of Iyengar, "This striving for self-culture (living the yamas) is the onset of true religiousness and the cessation of religion as a denomination or rigid pattern of belief. Spirituality is not playacting at being holy but the inner passion and urge for self-realization and the need to find the ultimate purpose of existence....Yama is the cultivation of the positive within us, not merely a suppression of what we consider to be its diabolical opposite."

So this brings me to the yama of "asteya" (nonstealing). I have been thinking of this one alot this year as I have been living in Mexico's poorest state of Chiapas. Living in a different culture among people who on the whole live with much less "Stuff" than Americans, has provided me with a different perspective on asteya. It has really made me start to think that when 20% of the world's population consumes 80% of the world's resources, there is a problem (and in the U.S., we make up a large portion of that 20%). When I make the choice to consume more than I really need, I am impacting the lives of others and stealing resources which should be more equitably distributed. In Mexico, I have visited the homes of people who live with almost nothing, dirt floors, no modern appliances, no indoor plumbing, not to mention the lack of designer couches, curtains, and coffee tables. What strikes me most about the people I have met here, has been their joyful approach to life despite harsh conditions and freedom from attachment to "Stuff". Do they see me, an American, and think of me as a thief, stealing their most precious natural resources, petroleum, fertile land, water? I don't think so, or if they do, they're too polite to say. So I have no one to be accountable to but myself. My acquaintances in Mexico will never know if I buy 5 new yoga tops this year or spend peanuts for the coffee grown on their land through their hard labor, but that is where the self-restraint comes in....I will know. I will know that my choices to consume more than my fair share is impacting someone else across the globe. I will know that each purchase of "feel good" items increases my attachment to my "Stuff" and the immediate gratification it brings and makes me less free.

I am hoping to bring back this newfound freedom to the States and stay disciplined in making those small, mindful choices to practice asteya daily in how I consume resources. I am hoping to continue to be mindful of how I can cultivate more generosity in my actions. So that rather than "denying" myself those cute new yoga pants, I perceive the choice to consume less as a spiritual action meant to leave the world with more.
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When I think of Asteya, it is quite simple. If you are REALLY honest when attaining things the right way, you will not live in fear or guilt. Its about having a clean heart.

On truth

I've been trying to practice the yama of satya while breaking up with my boyfriend of one year. It ain't easy. I find myself trying to remember (based on ahimsa) that if a truth is unpleasant, not to speak it. It's rendering me silent most of the time right now...while he is asking "why? why? why?" over and over again.

We both know it is over. That truth we can both agree on. But the rest of it...well, who's to say what the truth is?

He asks, "Why don't you want to be friends?" "You want the truth?" It's because I find him to be arrogant and annoying. Spending time with him is a frustrating experience that leaves me defensive and closed-off, and I don't want to waste my precious time in such unpleasant company. If that's the truth, it's certainly not pleasant.

But is it the truth that he is "annoying and arrogant?" Maybe it's simply my perspective. My mind can run circles on this all day long.

It's a dicey business, practicing satya in a relationship. Perhaps the key is that satya means not "truth" but rather "Truth." The capital "T" that says it all, a big "Truth" that obliterates the little "me" in a relationship. The "Truth" that is unconcerned with the muck I wade through in murky relationships. The "Truth" that has nothing to do with personal annoyances and differing perspectives. The One Truth that washes all of that away.

Alex's Trip to Mexico

I just returned from Chiapas, Mexico where I was visiting some good friends of mine, Anne Comrada and Jay Martin. They have been living for the past several months in San Cristobal, a beautiful town in the mountains. Chiapas is the southern state of mexico and not at all like the cancun vacations of which most people are familiar. I had heard of Chiapas already through my job at Starbucks where we sell a brand of coffee called "Fincas de Chiapas". The word "Fincas" describes a large farm or ranch. We went on a road trip for five days and drove along the gautamalan border through some amazing mountains and while in the mountains we passed by many fincas with coffee plants growing right by the side of the road. The towns we drove through in the mountains consisted of colorful shacks with people milling outside along the road with chickens and mangy dogs. The dogs in mexico are the mangiest I've ever seen anywhere. Jay and Anne have a dog of there own, a miniture Italian greyhound named Ramseys. It was imperative to keep the mangy dogs away from Ramseys, so Anne and Jay taught us how to scare the other dogs off by making a small "ch ch" sound. We made that sound a lot and thus all four of us were champions and protectors of Ramseys.

We spent one night in the mountains in a hotel that had been built by German immigrants in the twenties. It looked a bit like a swiss chalet, though in the years that had passed many concrete architechural additions had been made, so that hotel had become a spawling mamouth. That town was called Union Juarez. We saw lots of A frames there and drank really good coffee for the first and last time on the entire trip. After our night in Union Juarez we drove a down the mountain a ways to the olmec ruins of Izapa. There are three different sites for the Izapa ruins. As we were getting out of the car to visit the first site a group of children came running out of their bus screaming "Gringos!!!". We were swamped with children for quite a while. Some of them wanted to practice their english and some of them just shouted rapid fire questioning at us in Spanish. Jay was the best spanish speaker among us, so by the end of our visit with the school children he was quite worn out. We didn't spend much time with that site of ruins after the children got back in the bus, but we did manage to photograph ourselves doing some yoga on the top of a ruin.

Jay took us to the cloud forest our first day there. We woke up very early because he said that's when all the birds would be out and about. We didn't see tons of birds that day and the cloud forest wasn't very cloudy, but we had quite a vigorous hike and we saw lots of birds later on in our travels. The sub plot of the trip was birdwatching, and I learned a lot about seeing and in particular about how I tend to look at things. Usually if I look up into a tree I see a mass of leaves and light and sparkles. To bird watch you need to pick a specific detail (bird) out of the entirety of the tree. Often the bird is well camoflaged, but with practice I started being able to pick out birds from the leaves and sparkle and each time I did I gave myself one point. Point!

The final destination on our road trip was a beach called "Playa Azul". We drove up and down Rt 200 passing the same military check point (they always wanted to look at the dog because they thought it was very funny to own a dog and drive around in a car with him) about 3 times. We didn't find Playa Azul, but finally in a town called Pijijipan we asked for directions. We asked for directions many times, and were directed to "La playa grande". La playa grande was in the nature reserve that Jay had originally wanted to stay, but had decided that it wouldn't be a good idea because of the uncertainity about parking the car. We drove down a long dirt road for about 30 kilometers. Jay kept checking to see if the electrical lines were with us. It was getting dark and the road seemed very desolate. I had a feeling that we would end up at a beautiful beach, but I could feel Anne and Jay's nervousness. I could feel Ramsey's nervousness. It was totally dark when we got to the end of the road where we found a small family owned resturant. There's always a resturant in mexico no matter how desolate the road. This particular resturant served us fresh catfish a few days later. After a series of confusing conversations we parked the car safely with the family and got into a canoe. We crossed the mangrovee lagoon and hopped out onto a sandy beach. We set up camp and then had a fish dinner. The fish was delicious and fresh and entire. There was no sugar coating it with this fish. It still had its eyes and bones and fins. Anne and jay tore into the fish with practiced skill and precision while Travis and I worked bravely though gingerly on ours.

The next day the father of the beach (a family lived there) took us on a canoe tour of the lagoons. He told us that he would show us the cocodrillos (crocodiles). Apparently the people on this beach spoke in a dialect that was difficult for Jay and Anne to understand, so we never got the man's name. We just called him Senor. Senor rowed the four of us gringos and our little dog all over the lagoon. It was truly amazing. First of all, he was very strong to do that. Secondly, this man lived in a very beautiful place and it was so inspiring to see how proud he was of it. He showed us many birds. Jay was in heaven and Travis took many pictures. We saw eagles, hawks, these ducks that looked like snakes in the water, and a spoon bill. We even saw a stork! Then of course there were the cocodrillos. The first one we saw was pretty large laying by the water. Senor began to row the boat closer, and as we neared the cocodrillo flashed quickly into the water. I nearly wet my pants. Soon after Senor took us to a cocodrillo cul-de-sak. We rowed into the small space and then stopped. I thought, "what are we doing here?" Then I looked. There were cocodrillos everywhere! Classic cocodrillo eyes in the water, cocodrillos chilling by the banks hidden by mangrove trees, smiling cocodrillos, baby cocodrillos and large cocodrillos. This was my limit for adventure. I had seen the power in the movement of that previous cocodrillo and I was not so hot on staying around for very long. Anne told me "They are more scared of you than you are of them". All I had to say was, "famous last words"!

That was the only time I was afraid the entire trip except for earlier in the day was I was in the ocean and got caught in a rip tide. If you are ever caught in a rip tide make sure to swim parallel to the shore and don't panic. I did panic of course. The currents of the pacific ocean are stronger than what I'm used to in Rehoboth, De. You'll never here me claim ever again that, "I'm a strong swimmer". I'm not. I'm a terrible swimmer and I havn't got a chance against the cocodrillo.

Follow Truth

The Buddha didn't know that
his choice to be himself would
roll through the pages of history
like a rogue wave. All he did

was sit beneath the bodhi tree,
intention fixed on awakening,
and when the light flowed in,
he offered it back as the fruit

of all his practice. We each
act without knowing how the
ripples from our pond might
touch another, what the

consequences of our freedom
might be, or where the choice
to follow truth might lead.

Danna Faulds, One Soul: More Poems from the Heart of Yoga, Peaceable Kingdom Books, 2003