The week before Sally Kempton's workshop on Tantric Yoga in the spacious Namaste Hall at CIIS, I came across an article she had written for Yoga Journal. Called Free Yourself, it discussed the tendency we humans have to resist the things in life we know to be positive. A kind of stubborn offensive at anything that might cause lasting change in our lives, even change for the better. Eventually this resistance becomes so "deeply ingrained" that we don't even know we are sabotaging ourselves.

Word. What is it that that keeps me from doing those things I know will make me happy? And keeps me doing things that I pretend make me happy but really just make me tired? And all the while there is that little voice that knows exactly what to do. We silence that voice in fearful defiance because if we recognize it as Truth we will then be held accountable for our actions. As Kempton points out, "Perhaps that means acknowledging your responsibility to others, or accepting that some of your priorities are not serving your authentic Self." Ouch. Come to find out, acknowledging my responsibilities and weaknesses is not one of my, um, strengths.

When I arrived on the first day of the workshop I felt that Kempton could see right through me. Her wisdom and experience was intimidating, as can be the case when you meet someone who seems to be writing articles about you personally. Could she tell I was a fraud? Could she tell I wasn't acknowledging all of my responsibilities and that I was aware that many of my priorities did not serve my authentic Self?

If she could, she didn't let on. That day and the next we proceeded to lighty scratch the surface of the beautiful, life-affirming yoga philosophy of Tantra. Never having been of the ascetic, world-denying persuation, I relate to the idea of seeking bliss in this life rather than trying to transcend this life. Kempton was able to illuminate a severely misunderstood philosophy in a way that challenges me to hold myself a little more accountable.

Bliss Up!   

Posted by Katherine Rae at 10:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I am not really sure about any of it. Sometimes this bothers me, but increasingly it does not. I am finding it a refreshing relief to settle into the downy soft comfort of the faith that I am trying my absolute best, and that has to count for something. Of course, I'd like to know slightly more precise answers, be given slightly more direct instructions. Directions. Or perhaps what is needed is the enhanced ability to interpret the directions that are quite possibly being given, but not identified, or understood. Yearning for an answer that I am not ready for is folly. Thinking I can understand the answers to questions I don't understand is folly. Worrying too much about all of these follies causes mental turbulence that is not aligned with the goals of yoga and to which I am now more inclined to say "Whatevas!" But in a surrendering, ishvara pranidhana kind of way, mind you, and not a flippant "who cares" kind of way. Which is to say, "Whatevas, the Divine's got my back, and as long as I am doing my part progress will be made on this long and winding path of Truth." 

Posted by Katherine Rae at 11:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I have spent the last week fasting. Not a juice fast, or a raw foods fast, but rather an applesauce and vicodin fast. And now my left eyelid won't stop twitching. What could have possessed me? A little form of torture called oral surgery. I had my wisdom teeth removed. No me gusta. I suppose it did feel like some kind of rite of passage, and it allowed me to finally finish that second season of Lost I borrowed from my brother a year ago. After this I m probably through with applesauce for a while, though.

My yoga practice has suffered. If I go anywhere near downward dog my jaw feels as if it may throb off onto my mat. Meditating is fun, but seems cheapened by the narcotics, and then there's that eye twitch thing. Super distracting. I missed class due to mental cloudiness and my vanity, preferring to drool in private. I can't focus my eyes on words on a page, and even if I could they wouldn't make any sense. I fear perhaps my wisdom teeth were indeed the repositories of my wisdom.

But oh, it is rather nice to simply lie here, everyone tip-toeing past and leaving me in sweet, swollen peace. The only thing on my list at this moment is "HEAL." And gratitude settles in for this blessing in disguise. But I still can't wait to chew on something.  

Posted by Katherine Rae at 10:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I am at a point in my studies where I feel myself naturally gravitating towards the practice of dharana, one-pointed concentration. There is an urge to focus on dharana that I can't quite explain. Focus on dharana? Sounds a bit redundant. But isn't that what yogis do? Practice practicing, concentrate on concentration. My attention will roam if I let it, this I know all too well. I need to create, as Ian Whicher said, a beneficial samskara. A samskara of dharana, so that this kind of one-pointed concentration becomes second nature, like buckling my seat-belt when I hop in the car.

Dharana is the the 6th limb of Patanjali's classical yoga. Previously I had assumed that the 8-limbed path was a linear one: first one fully integrates the yamas and niyamas, then masters asana, pranayama, and pratyahara before moving on to the internal practices of dharana, dhyana, and samadhi. Now I laugh at this assumption, knowing that if I waited for mastery of the lower limbs I would never get around to dharana!

Our weekend workshop at CIIS with Patricia Sullivan was quite timely for me (actually, all of our classes have been...funny how that works). Called "Cultivating Effortless Effort in Meditation" the workshop refreshed my take on many familiar practices, and introduced me to a few new ones as well. One method in particular struck a chord with me. We were practicing Nadi Shodhana, alternate nostril breathing. Sullivan noted that if we were particularly stuffed up we could still practice the pranayama with our awareness only, instead of physically closing off each nostril. Huh? How could that possibly have the same effect? After trying it a few times I realized the gift Sullivan had just given to me. The concentration that it took to see and feel the breath flowing into my left nostril and out of my right, into my right and out of my left (without the aid of my fingers) was intense. I wasn't relying on habit, I was fully there, present and aware and in the midst of perhaps my first true experience with dharana. Thank you, Patricia!

Posted by Katherine Rae at 9:00 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)