Yoga with Dawn

As we approach September, I have been more or less bending backwards, and inviting the yogis in my classes to do the same, for at least 2 months now, if not more. This year, more than any other year, I feel as if I have been more open to the heart qualities like loving-kindness, compassion, and sympathetic joy. So it is fitting that as we near the end of the season, I find myself needing to cultivate equanimity.

I first realized this while watching an Arsenal soccer game (aka “football”). A particular player (Eduardo) broke his leg quite severely almost a year ago and worked hard to make a comeback. When he scored a goal during their first game of the season, I skipped being sympathetically joyful for his accomplishments because I was stuck at feeling pain for the suffering he must have felt a year ago. After feeling like this for at least an hour, I realized that I was being paralyzed by my compassion. This is not unusual; a near enemy of compassion is withdrawal stemming from feeling overwhelmed by suffering. In my opinion, this near enemy serves no-one; it only increases the amount of suffering there is in this world.

Realizing this, I decided I would work on cultivating equanimity. As defined by Wikipedia, “equanimity is a peace of mind and abiding calmness that cannot be shaken by any grade of unfortunate circumstance”. As renowned meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg puts it, “Equanimity balances those heartfelt wishes with the recognition that things are the way they are. However much we may wish for something, most results are beyond our control.” It is not to be mistaken for indifference. On the contrary, it is because of equanimity we conjure up the courage to stay open to suffering, whether our own or others’. From my experience, equanimity is that final heart quality that ties in all the others in a balanced and wise way.

Only once I brought my attention to equanimity off the mat, did I explore it on the mat. Being equanimous on the mat means being ok with whatever you are presented – a room too hot, too cold, too quiet, too noisy, too empty, too full, being able to touch your toes, not being able to touch your toes, etc. It’s about letting go of the commentary telling you that things should be different, and being with what is, as objectively as possible.

Fortunately, like the other heart qualities, equanimity can be cultivated through the repetition of phrases. Feel free to repeat them as much as you like, and as much as you need.

Simple phrases. A simple technique. But by no means is this a simple task. Good luck and despite my wishes for you becoming equanimous, you are the owner of your karma, which is determined by your actions. In other words, what are you waiting for? As Krishnamurti once said, “Freedom is now or never.”

A beautiful paradox of yoga is that it is always evolving. In my opinion, that is one of the only reasons why yoga has survived the 2,500 years since it was created. Because of this continuous evolution, the practice itself becomes a dance – one that asks teachers and serious practitioners to stay on top of what is consistently changing in the yoga world.

For those who adopt the “Let’s get this over with” attitude, this can be extremely frustrating. I used to be one of those people, but this dance with yoga has taught me to let go. One of my teachers, Nicole Bordeleau from Yogamonde used to often say, “Yoga is an ocean of knowledge.” This cannot be more true. I’ll be lucky if I learn in this lifetime even a quarter of all that yoga has to offer.

Once I managed to let go, I fell in love with the practice. I mean, really in love. Deeply in love. Since yoga requires constant education, I also fell in love with learning. However, almost to a fault. I think one of the only reasons why I teach (other than to clothe, shelter, and feed myself) is to continue to take workshops. I’m positive it drives my friends crazy when my weekends, for months at a time, are booked with workshops, or how I make noise early in the morning to get to a 6am workshop (yes, even on weekends. Even on holidays).

But I see the benefits of this as three-fold. On a superficial level, my body and health are greatly benefitting from all this continuing education. Also, according to Science Daily, learning slows the physical progression of diseases like Alzheimer’s. Thirdly, what I think I know, I really know.

That last one was vague. Basically, even after hearing my teacher say something dozens of times, it may only sink in on the 89th time I hear it. When I mean sink in, I mean I finally understand it at a a physiological level. My body absorbs and understands it.

On a different note, the downside of all this learning is that it makes me feel like a Beginner almost every time I take a workshop. But then I realized that it is a truly humbling practice, for which I am grateful. Not only does it keep the ego in check, but this humility is important for a couple of reasons: 1) It’s great for a yoga teacher who tries to connect to his/her students, who may be Beginners in some way or another, and 2) It opens the heart. It’s like the wise anonymous person who said, “An open mind leads to an open heart.”

At the same time, this constant coming back from a Beginner’s mind represents the essence of any spiritual practice, much like following the breath in meditation. That is to allow there to be space to start over, and over, and over again, no matter how many times it takes. The important thing is that you start over.

As some of you know, I have been working backbends for the summer. Whenever I practice and teach backbends, unintentionally I tend to become more connected to heart qualities like loving-kindness, compassion, and forgiveness, to name a few.

Normally when I practice any of these heart qualities, it is often separate from my asana practice . But as a famous saying goes, “How you do anything is how you do everything.” Before I knew it, this practice started to spill over in many other aspects of my life, particularly my life on my mat.

Let me backtrack just a bit. A couple of years ago I got introduced to a mind/body practice called Budokon. It is a beautiful, yet deeply challenging, discipline that combines martial arts with yoga (no, not doing a karate kick in downward dog). It appears to be so challenging, in fact, that the rigid perfectionist in me thought it was better to not do it at all, than to attempt it and not “succeed” according to my usually high standards.

Without thinking much of it, I practiced backbends this year, and as a result became really connected to compassion and forgiveness. Then all of a sudden it dawned on me: When on my mat, why not channel that forgiveness towards myself?

With this newfound outlook, I attempted Budokon… And loved it! It challenges me mentally and physically in different ways than my yoga and meditation practice do, yet the philosophy is very much the same. I’ve only been practicing for about a month but already I see how it is changing my body and my confidence. All this to say, if we create space for forgiveness, we may surprise ourselves with just how far we can reach.

On a more technical note, it is believed that forgiveness can be cultivated through regular repetition of particular phrases. One thing that is a must when practicing any heart quality is patience. One of my teachers, Mark Coleman, relates this work to the act of melting a block of ice around our heart. The more we repeat the phrases, the more we melt away the ice, but we only find out that it’s working when we break through the ice. This can take days, weeks, months, years, even lifetimes.

For those interested in practicing Forgiveness, below are the phrases. They can be practiced in seated meditation, walking meditation, or any other time of the day (e.g. waiting in line, sitting on the metro). Feel free to repeat just one or two of the phrases, or all three, over and over.

Another thing worthy of note is, as Jack Kornfield says, “Forgiveness is giving up all hope for a better past.” No- one said this work would be easy, but plenty of people, including myself, say this work is necessary.