I’ve also been solidly convincing myself that this stagnation is coming from work, from a general sense of exhaustion and burn out as a result of steadfastly pursuing two paths, but feeling unable to commit myself to either of them. I have been telling myself some serious sob stories…about myself. Life is hard, work sucks….blah, blah, blah. The soundtrack of sympathy is getting quite loud and overpowering in my ear. Fortunately it’s composed mostly of violin concertos and some soulful beats, so it takes quite a while before it gets old.

Tonight, just as I was preparing to slip down the mossy well of habitual thought, I had a bit of a reality check. Now I should preface this by saying that that term has never appealed to me on any level. If I’m going to be grateful for any check, it definetly is not the reality version. I pride myself on being able to think about ultimate reality, which most of the time conveniently excludes the reality of my bank statement.

This particular check originated from the same place as many before; my dear father. He was chastising me about my very flippant and unrealistic attitude about the nonrenewable nature of such resources that fill a bank account. Where normally I would brush off a stern scolding about the affairs I deemed to be too mundane; tonight for some reason, in his angry voice coming down the line from thousands of miles away I heard truth. And yes, as the cliché should have taught me by now…it hurt.

For the first time in a long time, I saw my own huge blind spot, in the auspicious form of hundreds of unpaid parking tickets, a backlog of taxes and a slightly uncomfortable credit card bill. As he told me how it was in a very vocal manner, the symphony of sympathy stopped playing quite so loud. And then to my utmost surprise, it stopped completely. Only to be replaced by one very clear thought. “Oh my God, He’s Right.”

In that moment, I saw that the reason I’m flying circles around the airport is actually coming from me, just as everything is. And I wish I could say that I was surprised, but in fact I am relieved. Because that means, just like anything, I can change the outcome.

As next week is my quarter century birthday, I would like to think that realizing the wisdom of your parents is a sign of growing up. Instead, I am starting to think that maybe it has something to do with paying your parking tickets and acknowledging that there are parts of life that may appear mundane, but offer great opportunities for growth.

Maybe ultimate reality and reality checks from your father really aren’t so different after
all.

My hamstring is following that translation quite literally. A little too literally for my liking. After a year of this, I have to ask myself the same question that I’ve run over thousands of times, yet again. What is this really about?

Physical pain brands you in a way unlike anything else. It changes your chemistry, your mood, even the way you walk or stand on your head. It forces you to go around things, to try new ways of rolling over the sitting bones in uttanasana, or even just sitting in a chair at work. It can even turn you into someone who is periodically seen grabbing her own ass and looking a bit baffled.

Not surprisingly, mental, emotional and spiritual pain do the same thing. They bar your usual route, make you get off the freeway and pay attention to the detours. Suffering can isolate you, shape you and influence every thought that goes through your mindstream, making it extremely difficult to keep your chitta prasandanam.

Practicing Yoga Asana has always been a way for me to channel my emotional and spiritual pain. It has broken my own ideas about what makes my suffering unique to me, forcing me to stop holding on so tightly to that grief that I like to call mine. Through the past six years of practice, I was pretty certain that I had most of this mental and spiritual pain under control. I had it tied up in a pretty box with a nice shiny label on the top. Occasionally a corner of the box became a bit loose and some grief eeked out, finding it’s way into my new patterns and wreaking a little havoc. But for the most part, I was cool, under control, thriving despite what some would consider some pretty tragic setbacks. Ready to move on to the next challenge, even asking for it with a cherry on top, please.

This little ass issue of mine has proved to be exceedingly difficult. Strangely enough, physical pain, the sister that I gave the least respect to in the Pain family, is the one that is really getting to me. I can’t really go for the same gusto that I used to in Hanumanasana or even do trikonasana without wanting to scream for my mother, who incidentally is dead. The more and more I have tried to move on from the discomfort the more my body has refused the ride. I have tried tears and massage and acupuncture and internal rotation and thigh loop and an absurd amount of china gel. And none of it has quite done the trick. It has brought me to the point where I must consider the worst possibly fate…rest.

The thought of resting my hamstring after a year of ignoring it brings a lump to my throat. And coincidentally of course, the lid on that box that held the well-labeled emotional and spiritual pain has just flown off. Not just opened a crack like it used to, but actually blown away in the wind. What is a girl supposed to do about that?

Just tonight after what I thought was a reasonable gentle practice left me in this pathetic state of throbbing and burning and cleaning, a thought occurred to me. It takes discipline to know the Self. Real discipline, not its second cousin or its third uncle. Not even the kind of discipline that makes you get up when the alarm clock rings and sit on the meditation cushion or show up to class even though you haven’t practiced in weeks. No, this kind of discipline is the real deal, straight up and as powerful as Shiva.

Reading Shri Brahamanda Saraswati’s translation of sutra 11.1 while I was soaking my sore hamstring in the tub a few weeks ago, something jumped out at me. He wrote, “the training (tapah) or self discipline should be limited to Self-discipline” . It sort of snagged my mind, but I didn’t really understand it’s meaning until just now. Tapas is the discipline that takes you beyond your small self, beyond the ways that you thought you dealt with pain, beyond all of the preconceptions about who you are and how you function in the world. It takes you so far beyond, that it actually hurts like hell, like a stubborn burning hamstring or a disjointed sacroiliac ligament. When these things start hurting, all I want to do is run away, go have a drink, talk to someone on the phone, read a book…anything but be with the muscles and ligaments and bone shifting around in my body. True tapas requires that you stick it out through these changes, that you become humble and allow your sharp edges to get a bit rounded out by your own pain. It requires that you adapt and accept the fact that in order to transform into your Supreme Self, you have to ease up your kung fu grip on the small self. And that my friend, takes some serious discipline.

It’s amazing what can happen when you let go a little bit. There’s a free-floating moment of pure terror euphoria and then a very surprising thing happens. Instead of shrinking or disintegrating like you thought you might, you actually expand. For just a second, you see beyond your limited view of yourself just how vast and incredible you are. You feel how connected you are to everything and everyone. And maybe, if you’re really putting yourself in the fire of transformation, if your desire is really burning, your hamstring starts to hurt just a little bit less.

I should start by saying that most of the time, I feel like I have quite alot of my heart out in the world. In fact I often hear myself trying to encourage other people to open up more in their heart area, to be open to new experiences and to bring the shoulder blades down the back and reach the heart up towards the sky. Sort of par for the course as a yoga teacher.

Yesterday I went to be fitted for a meditation cushion. I had decided that my current cushion was too high and not the ideal seat for clearing space in the mind, so I went to this very magical meditation shop near my house. It is filled with gleaming buddhas and beautiful mandalas and incredible books containing the type of wisdom that makes you balk a little at our immense good fortune to have all of these things available for sale to us..so accessible.

I sat down on the cushion he had selected and he looked at me from all angles. Then he said, “soften.” I sort of tried to release a little more into my new seat. “No, I mean like you’re dying, you’re leaving the body, really soften up.” I relaxed completely, watching in slight amazement as i slumped into a completely different position. The man looked at me with startling concern in his eyes. “Look at that curve in your back. Wow.” He made a few different adjustments, each time telling me to soften into the cushion and each time I settled into this curved space.

“You see what’s happening.”he said, “You’re closing off your heart chakra and your throat chakra. Trying to protect yourself from the world, instead of allowing your heart to be open.” His words came as a persistent shock. It sounded like my exact directive to various students. “You need to work through some things. Have some bodywork, maybe some therapy. It is very important that you get this sorted out. It is difficult to meditate with your spine in this position.”

All of a sudden I felt a bit shell shocked, like I was exposed and vulnerable. I was a little worried that I was going to cry. The man was giving me very helpful, extremely compassionate advice. And he was a completely worthy, unbiased source, who could only see what he saw of me, the part that curved away from the world as soon as I relaxed into my seat.

As I walked home clutching my new cushion and this new found knowledge, I thought about the heart chakra. In Sanskrit it is called Anahata Chakra, which means unstruck sound. A sound that originates without being provoked, that has no beginning and no end. In the body it manifests in many ways, but is especially important during backbends, which force us to come to terms with the ways that we curl away from the world instead of extending our heart into it – in everything we do.

My meditation cushion fitting experience revealed far more to me than i could have imagined, but most importantly it reminded me how difficult it can be to really open up your heart to life, to really put your heart into your relationships, your job, your whole existence. It reminded me to have compassion towards all of those angels in disguise who show up in yoga classes with arched upper backs and tight shoulders. And it reminded me to have compassion for myself, on the mat or the cushion and off.

Be courageous and let the unstruck emanate from your heart into everything you do. And when you feel like curling away from the world, take a deep breath, and bathe yourself and every other being in compassion. Smiling helps too.

And then three minutes passed. We started to walk along the cemented path, constantly craning our necks to spot a new, completely miraculous monarch or a flashing green and acid yellow sprite. But gradually the plentiful species started to become just a bit more common place. I watched my mind shifting into it’s perpetual state of ‘knowing’ and labeling while the intial wonder became relegated to a truly elusive one-of-a-kind species. How quickly we start looking for something new.

Through the whole experience Steve was snapping shots like a madman, almost to the point where I wondered if there were any butterflies that he had seen without the protection of his lense. I was completely content to just observe these magical creatures, feeling like any attempt to capture them would fall flat. A few days ago he showed me some of the pictures he had taken that day and yet again I was rendered completely speechless.

The detailed color gradients of the wings, the shifting way the light captures the giant alien eyes of the butterfly, the brilliant orange of an antenna and the frayed, jagged edges of a tattered wing were lit up before me. All of the brilliant, perfect details were suddenly so unavoidable, so profound. But what really got me was the fact that I had been there, I had seen this same butterfly with my own eyes and I had missed almost all of those pivotal details. It made me think that all of those incredible, inspiring details are surrounding us all the time, in the natural world, in the faces of the people we love, in absolutely everything we see, and touch and taste and hear. We just have to be awake and alive enough to quiet the labelling, dismissive quality of our own minds and take the time to open ourselves up and observe.

There are beautiful souls and beings in our lives that are here to remind us to notice the beauty surrounding us. When someone you love very dearly tells you to look for the butterflies and to watch for the wind, listen to what they are really telling you. Wake up and remember that all is divine.

I have been fortunate enough to flee my routine quite a bit this August, with a fantastic week in the Carribbean and quite a few road trips, culminating last week in a visit to Woodstock, NY. My teachers Sharon and David have been teaching there for the entire sunny month. In the perfectly placed haven of this wild child town, they have been teaching on the theme of going beyond civilization.

Initially, I was a bit baffled by this creed, this prompt to go beyond civilization. But really the more I thought about it, it’s about being wild. Wildness in our modern conotation usually brings to mind thoughts of untameable, rabid creatures, or girls on questionable spring break videos. Looking deeper into the meaning of wild, it reveals a whole other possibility. If being wild is living in an unrestrainable, untameable way, then it really means following our true instincts, despite the any resistance we might encounter. When we call an animal wild, it means that they don’t abide by the same rules as we might use to govern our housepets for example. A being’s wildness is something that seems innate, deeply woven into their fabric.

In a civilization that is so dominated by Mother Culture, could it be that we have lost some of our wildness? Do we always follow our instincts and remain accountable to our true nature in the face of the ideals of our culture? It’s important to remember that being wild, doesn’t mean taking what we want regardless of it’s effect on other beings. If we look to the ultimate “wilderness” it is actually the opposite. While nature is wild and unpredictable in it’s essence, it always sustains itself. It is actually only with our cultural interferance that nature seems unable to sustain itself and our civilizations.

Maybe being wild is really about this sustainability, the notion that everything we do can be sustainable, despite the strong suggestion of our culture that often encourages us to think of ourselves first. It could be that being wild means refusing to be restrained by the values and expectations of our culture and acting in a way that supports other beings.

Take some inspiration from the wild ones around you, birds, raccoons and especially those rare wild people. Strive to be wild, at least for the lingering days of summer. I am abadonning my words and hopes for productivity right now to go frolic in the sunshine…..

So this Saturday we went out for a glorious ride, the weather was perfect, sky clear, sun blazing. We stopped for a coffee, or in my case a cup of Earl Grey, as I have now learned is often the custom with rides, a slightly arbitrary but still charming destination. Then we zoomed back through the city, heating up with people and energy of the day. Just as we approached the corner of Bay and Queens Quay, we hit a pretty big bump, and totally lost power. Steve rather deftly maneurvered onto the sidewalk (of course I had no idea we had lost power, just thought the bump rather hurt).

Almost immediately these two bedraggled looking men appeared, one on a bicycle and the other with his leg in a walking cast. They started with a barrage of questions and before I really knew what was going on, one of them had lifted up the seat of the bike, found a blown fuse and ridden of to Canadian Tire to get us a new one. The other one stayed and talked with us for awhile, telling us that they were both homeless, but had built little structures that they spent the nights in. The one who rode to get fuses, Patrick, was back in about 10 minutes, put in a new fuse, secured a loose wire, and the engine roared back to life.

These two ‘homeless’ men completely rescued us, saving us when we were literally stranded. Out of the tons of people that were walking by us on that busy corner, including quite a few cops, they were the only ones who stopped. They were so eager to be able to help, so eloquent and kind, and when we gave them some cash for everything they had done, they were genuinely shocked. It was one of the most sincere thank-you’s I have heard in a long time. All from two men that I would have normally overlooked as I moved through my own blessed life.

As we sped off, I couldn’t help but think we had just encountered a pair of unexpected angels.

Then standing at the front of the class, suddenly I was completely tongue-tied. I had this terrifying moment of realizing that the only tool I had was my own knowledge and voice! After stumbling through a sequence and being completely astounded at how difficult it can be to say, “exhale, downward facing dog”, I finally surrendered to the flow. The rest of the class felt natural, humbling but so rewarding. In reflecting on that terrifying moment of tongue-tiedness, I had the distinct feeling that it was my own nerves and anxiety that had crippled me. As soon as I realized that it wasn’t really about me, the energy and flow of the class took me along with it, and I was able to become more of a conduit for the teachings. In essence, I needed to get out of my own way.

How many times do we stumble unecessarily over things because our ego gets in the way? We can practice things until we know them backwards and forwards and then as soon as we have to “perform” all our fears rear up from wherever they have been hiding. Only when we set our intention on something higher do things really happen seamlessly. I think it’s the same reason that it’s always easier to do something difficult if you’re doing it for someone else. We do this all the time in yoga, especially in the more challenging poses, trying to remember our intention at those key moments like shoulderstand or pigeon, and in doing so we surrender to grace, remembering that our potential is much bigger than those tiny, nagging fears. But when we release our own stuff, check our baggage at the door so to speak, we open ourselves up to that force within that is much greater. Amazing things will happen when we go beyond our fears and percieved limitations. And really, if our intention is high, all we have to do is relax into it. Some would call this surrendering to grace, letting go and letting God. But something about getting out of the way just sounds right to me.

I became fascinated with the fact that we can live out entire lives in such close proximity to other people without ever really knowing what their life is like, or how our life could affect theirs. In a city like New York, you could cross paths with the same person everday for three years and never learn their name. How do we remember our connection to all beings when our lives seem so separate even in the same city?

On my trip I also got to witness a pretty substantial blackout. The entire Upper East side of Manhattan lost power for several hours, leaving people stranded on subway trains for hours. It also happened to be an extremely hot day, causing people to blast their air conditioners all across the city. The perfect example of how one person’s choices, or in this case many peoples’ choice to run their air conditioners all day affect the lives of tons of people trying to get to where they needed to go. If only the effects of our actions could be this clear everytime!

It’s hard to feel like your choices, your little footprints have any impact on the countless other beings in your city, let alone the rest of the world. But the truth is they do, even if we don’t know exactly what that effect looks like. That’s why we have to be a bit paranoid about what we do. Try to think about the potential effects on other beings before you act. Let it become your habit and see if you learn something about your relationship to others. Look for the connections and let them remind you that really, you’re not so different from the homeless guy who just passed you on the street, or the woman walking her kids home from school. Maybe, you’ll find that we’re not so different after all.

Change is an undeniable fibre in the fabric of our existence. We see it in small ways, like the ebb and flow of a bank statement, a cupcake going stale after sitting out on the counter for too long, or a new wrinkle suddenly appearing in the mirror. These changes don’t really make a blip on the radar, they are what keeps things moving, mark the flipping of the calendar pages.

It’s the bigger changes that are the hard ones to swallow. Breakups, illness, even changing jobs tend to throw us completely off-kilter. A holy teacher explained it to me like this. The suffering of change is a whole category of perpetual suffering, the kind that we never feel like we have a handle on. But maybe this suffering comes not from the change itself, but from our attachment to liking things to stay just the way they are. When we really like something, or someone, we tend to hold on pretty tight. When this thing we love starts to change, as it inevitably will, then we struggle to keep it the same, which usually causes us heartbreak.

My own sadness at leaving my job wasn’t really about the job itself, but more the fact that for so long I liked things and people exactly the way they were. And while I could admit that I needed to move on my attachment to ‘the way things were’ still made me sad. Clearly I haven’t mastered this, but I’m starting to think that the antidote to the suffering of change comes in our inability to be present in every moment, keeping our eyes and hearts open to whatever comes up, and experiencing it just as it is.

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Then we discovered the zoo, where a variety of mountain goats, bison, peacocks and even a wallaby were spending the same day I was relishing confined to a fenced in acre. As I watched the young kids stick their fingers through the chain link calling out to the llamas or begging the peacock to just turn around for a picture as their parents looked on proudly, the contrast between my freedom and the animals’ confinement became markedly clear. My holy teacher Sharon’s words echoed in my head…whatever we want for ourselves we have to provide it for someone else first. How are we becoming more free by confining these wild beings for our own Saturday afternoon amusement?

I think the most empowering part of Jivamukti yoga is the fact that we are practicing for liberation in this lifetime. Freedom and happiness for all beings with every breath, every asana. Freedom isn’t something alot of us think about on a daily basis. In fact most of the time we really only notice it in it’s absence. The very worst consequence for someone who has committed a crime is to go to jail, to be forced to surrender their freedom. But in actuality we surrender our freedom in small ways all the time. We enslave ourselves with time commitments, credit card debts, caffeine addictions and just plain old habits. Some ways are more binding than others. My newly-formed addiction to soy chai lattes with a shot of espresso (some would call it the “dirty chai”) feels like a very delicious and harmless way to indulge until i realize its growing stronghold on my wallet.

We often make these choices that enslave us without even being conscious of their effect. One of the best ways to become conscious of these choices is to constantly ask, “is this making me more free?” You might be surprised by the answer to this question and the effect that asking it daily could have on your life. But what better time to start working towards freedom than today? Start by asking yourself that simple question right now. Afterall in the immortal words of Bob Dylan, “How many years can some people exist before they’re allowed to be free?” Let’s allow ourselves and all beings to be free, starting now.