let go.

there’s nothing to hold onto…

nothing to lose.

smiles and tears…

divine light and holy water.

It is mid-month, October 12, and the full moon is dancing across the sky. Within the past 12 hours, I’ve twice found myself sitting between the ethereal movements of the moon and sun. Dusk and dawn have beckoned me to Mediation Hill, the new space on the eastern hillside of my Santa Barbara home. A space which when I moved here in July was nothing but rocks and brush. Over the past 3 months, it has transformed into a little meditation space…a magical fortress of driftwood pillars surrounded by succulent gardens and ancient rocks.

Last night at dusk after teaching a sweet full moon Vinyasa class on Isla Vista, I sat on the hill. Looking to the West, the sun departed with a pinkish orange sigh over the Santa Ynez Mountains. In the East, the full moon quietly rose into the sky. Jupiter, Lord over the October night skies, kept a watchful eye on the whole scene, his golden smile shining down on me. There amidst the changing of the celestial guards of day and night, I settled into the quiet embrace of the twilight which offered me shelter from my thoughts.

Thoughts of finances, upcoming yoga and Ayurveda workshops, and relationship issues whirled around my mind as the sun neared the horizon. I watched the brilliant and mighty orb drop, drop and drop some more. The sun moved westward with no regrets or trepidation. I mused if the sun can surrender his reign over this beautiful coastal sky, surely I can let go of my mental grasp on all the unknown stuff fogging up my head. So I breathed the cool air and set an intention to release the fears and projections. I felt the pranic Pacific breeze touch my body and encourage me. I closed my eyes and breathed. On an exhalation, I chose to release myself from the clutches of thought.

Opening my eyes, I found myself in the middle of the sunset and sunrise…perfectly balanced in twilight’s pause. My heart opened and I found mySelf sitting peacefully in the middle ground, recognizing being in the middle is a natural state in all life transformations and any creative process. Being in the middle is not a delay or place of indecision. It’s simply a place of waiting. The middle ground is actually a great vantage point for observing life’s landscapes. It’s a highly strategical position for planning the next move. When we wait with worry and anxiety, there is a tendency to only see the unknowns. When we wait with breath and awareness, there is the promise to see potential.

The mind, focused by awareness and under the influence of prana, understands the waiting periods are part of the process of moving into the next phase, manifestation or cycle. Meaning, during life changes the unknown often looks like a foreign place of intangibles and incomprehensibles (yes, I just made up that word) to the simple mind. But the mind nourished by prana, becomes the Divine mind and realizes the unknowns and waiting periods are natural necessary steps in all creative processes.

Amidst and betwixt the sunset and moonrise, the stillness of twilight reflected the newborn stillness in my mind and heart. Life no longer felt uncertain. I felt the waiting was less a place of being stuck, and more a natural state of being in the midst of a creative transformation. I was being in the midst of change and a Being in the midst of change.

This morning atop the hill, I again found myself betwixt these two lovely heavenly bodies of light. Only this time, the sun was in the East and moon in the West…opposite positions in merely 12 hours time. “Twelve hours” the moon whispered as she neared the same spot the sun passed the evening before. Twelve, it’s a number sacred in many faiths. The number 12 is associated with strength and conviction. Waiting from a place of conviction and authority is trusting in the perfect timing of the setting and rising cycles in my own life. Twelve is also the midpoint between night and day, hence the terms midday and midnight. The middle is a natural state. I am now fully convinced that waiting in the middle allows me and the Divine to create without limitations of time and space.

Watching the moon near the mountains, I imagined her as she travelled the celestial path over the night sky, guided by the stars. I imagined her face, an expression of full contentment as she made her way across the westward trail. The moon’s pace across the night sky, in perfect tempo with Nature. Dear sweet Mother Nature who is always reflecting the divine timing of God. In the whispers of the first morning light, I heard my heart remind me that when I am in the midst of change, the best space for me to be is in Nature. She makes a splendid “waiting room” during times of change, be it changes in hometowns, jobs, or relationships.

Sitting on the hill, I was in the middle of the transition of Mother Nature releasing the moon and welcoming the sun. I felt balance in my body and mind. I felt ready to begin the day and embrace the unknowns with the grace, strength, and conviction of the celestial tides of night and day. When I walked down the hill, I left my meditation spot, but I did not leave the ethereal spot of amidst and betwixt…the Divine place where the sun’s welcoming caress and the moon’s departing kiss reminded me of the balance in the middle. Amidst and betwixt is the perfect place to be.

Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
For there the mystical brotherhood
Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
And river and stream work out their will.

From “Into the Twilight”
by William Butler Yeats

As the sun rises
my mind sets.
And a new day
can begin.

Photo by Michael Stern

I moved to Santa Barbara in July. After spending seven months in Albuquerque and what felt like 40 years (due to several mishaps with the rental trailer) crossing the deserts of New Mexico, Arizona and California, I was never so happy to see water. Lots of water. Water is gushing everywhere. The Pacific Ocean. Lagoons. Rivers. Creeks. Mountain springwater swimming holes. Oh, and not to forget the water in the sky – the fog and marine layer, which I found out are two different forms of the water element. How these two different kinds of condensation are formed and named is based on weather conditions.  But to borrow off a Dylan quote, I don’t need a weatherman to know that the dance between the water and air elements here in Santa Barbara is gorgeous divine magic. I love watching the fog waltz in and over the mesa, then pass through the canyons. What the locals call the “June Gloom”, which this year lasted until early August, was a welcome sight and feel to my rasa depleted body. 

Spending the first half of the year in the high dry desert with intense winds, high elevation, and low humidity was rough on my body and spirit.  The extreme conditions left my skin, hair, brain, and spirit a  bit dried and fried. To put in Ayurvedic terms, I was rasa depleted in the physical and mental bodies, as well as my creative spirit. The ’49er miners came to California for the gold. I came to California for the rasa. And I’ve struck it rich. Rasa is gushing everywhere -the aforementioned bodies of water and abundant dewdrops, plump succulent plants, fragrant orange groves, and verdant grape vineyards.

Rasa

And just what exactly is rasa? Is it a precious commodity? A precious treasure? Yes to both. Rasa is useful and valuable. It is vital to health and happiness. Rasa is a Sanskrit word and has several meanings: “essence of life”, “the flavor of a substance” and “the first of the seven dhatus(tissues) in the body”. The function of rasa dhatu is nutrition. Rasa is the juice of life, whether it’s in the form of plasma, lymph, chlye, or amniotic fluid – all which nourish the physical body. Rasa in the more subtle form is faith, passion and creativity – all which nourish the mental and spiritual bodies.

In the system of Bhakti Yoga, there is a story about how the Vaishnava Saint, Lord Caitanya Mahaprabhu, gave one drop of the ocean of rasa to Srila Rupa Goswami and that one drop was enough to create millions upon millions of universes. When rasa is abundant in our body, we create abundance in our lives. Where the rasa flows, creation goes.  Rasa nourishes every cell and the reproductive system.

I also believe rasa is a delightful nectar which nourishes the tanmatras (the five senses); whether it is your Nana’s oatmeal cookies, your lover’s embrace, your child’s smile, smell of jasmine on a summer evening, or the sound of Emmylou Harris singing. Rasa is anything which nourishes the heart and soul. One of my favorite Ayurvedic teachers, Dr. Claudia Welch, once said, “Nourish the rasa and you will nourish the heart; and then the body will be nourished.” Living in Santa Barbara is nourishing my rasa and my heart. Since I’ve been here, rasa dhatu has balanced and I now feel rasa abundant in body, mind and Spirit.

The Westward Bestward Journey

After living here a mere two months, I’ve put down roots. This is quite amazing because since I departed Nashville in autumn 2009, I’ve been a bit of a migratory bird, mostly making my way west on the I40. My time in the desert earlier this year was nothing but a part of my flight plan to the West Coast. It was a place I landed for awhile- a little layover between Nashville and Santa Barbara. Before I returned to Albuquerque last December, I spent a few months in Michigan. Sandhill Cranes spend the summers in the lakes and ponds near my sister’s home. At dawn and dusk I would watch flocks of between 15-30 cranes in the fields behind the house.

About the time I left Michigan, the cranes began their journey southward. The Sandhill Cranes east of the Mississippi River fly south for the winter. Sandhill Cranes west of the Mississippi migrate to a little town just South of Albuquerque. Although not the Michigan flock, as I drove westward to Albuquerque last fall, I thought of those cranes as my fellow journeymen – my wingmen. I figured if they could survive a few months in the desert, so could I. But I knew for the love of rasa, I could only stay in the desert climate a little while. Eventually I had to return to a place near abundant water. Come summertime, the cranes and I would need to navigate our ways to habitats which nourish and support us. When the calendar turned to June, I was ready to move to Santa Barbara.

You see, I am like a Sandhill Crane. When I move, I migrate near water.  I need to live near water. Water is a necessary and familiar habitat for me.  I was born a few miles from one of the Great Lakes. The backyard of my childhood home was bordered on three sides by small creeks. My playground was a ravine. I lived a few miles from Lake Michigan and the Saint Joseph River. As a kid, two weeks every summer were spent at Nana and Pawpaw’s cottage on the Mississippi River. As an adult, I’ve always lived near water. At one time my home was right next to an Adirondack lake.

My natural constitution needs water in order for me to flourish. Being vata pitta predominant, the water soothes vata’s dry quality and cools pitta’s hot quality – keeping rasa dhatu healthy and happy. So after living more than half of 2011 in the high dry desert, my migratory instincts led me once again to water. Arriving in Santa Barbara, my heart confirmed I found the perfect place to build my little nest.

The Oh-Cean

Come with me my love

to the sea

the sea of love.

I want to tell you

how much I love you.

“The Sea of Love”

Phil Phillips and George Khoury

You can’t get much more rasa than the ocean. The West Coast is the hostess with the most-ess of rasa.  Over the past two months, I’ve spent a lot of time at the beach. Partly because I felt I was making up for lost time away from water during the months in the desert. My body craved the water. Within a week my skin plumped up thanks to Mother Nature’s age defying secret: rasa. Physically I felt more grounded, nourished and exuberant. But something was also happening in the subtle body. After about the third visit to my favorite beach, I realized my heart was craving to be at the ocean. One afternoon while sitting on the beach watching the waves roll in, seaweed shimmy on the surf, dolphins swim by, seagulls fly overhead, and the brown pelicans dive into the water, it dawned on me just how easy it is to sit and be still at the ocean. Sitting next to the huge body of water which is always moving, I felt stillness hush my rush of thoughts. In Ayurveda, this could be called the prabhav effect, where the effect of the ocean’s movement creates an opposite action – that of stillness.

In Sanskrit, the word for ocean is “samudra.” Samudra also means confluence, as in “a coming together, meeting, or gathering at one point.” My recent experiences at the ocean have awakened me to the magical realm where movement becomes confluent with stillness. I sit on the shore and feel the pull of the tide on my body; yet the tide’s movement creates stillness in my mind. When teaching pranayama in a yoga class I encourage students to imagine their breath being rhythmic like the ocean. So, while sitting on the shore, I will breathe in tempo with the waves. The pause between the water rolling in and the water rolling out is similar to the pause between the inhale and the exhale during pranayama. In pranayama the pause between breaths is the space of Absolute Awareness. The pause is the shoreline of stillness along the ocean of pranayama. This place of stillness is the confluence of the human being becoming the Divine Being. It’s the merging of individual consciousness into Supreme Consciousness…into Purusha.

Going With The Flow

Rasa’s nature is to flow. Lymph, plasma, maple tree sap, compassion and creativity – various forms of rasa, all flow. Flow is movement. Movement is governed by vata dosha. Too much movement, (i.e. moving across country, into a new home, and around town to find new yoga gigs and Ayurveda clients), increases vata dosha. This can create feelings of anxiety and ungroundedness. Excess movement can cause the dry guna(quality) of vata to dehydrate rasa. Rasa is necessary for proper flow of all life functions, especially when navigating a life change. Balanced rasa allows one to go with the flow, instead of fight the current of “what is” or worse yet…giving up in the midst of challenges and running your ship aground.

Pranayama is the most effective medicine for calming vata. In balancing rasa and vata, I’ve discovered oceanside pranayama is the wonder cure. Watching the tide helps me process the many changes which come with a major move and life change. On the beach, I am able to sit on the shoreline of my mind and watch the waves of thought after thought roll in and roll out. I’ve learned to pay closer attention to the thoughts and view them like ocean waves…coming and going. And ultimately surrender and allow them to return to the ocean of consciousness.

Watching the waves, I realize I am watching the ocean breathe. The ebbs of her exhales and the tides of her inhales balance her body (of water). As does my breath, it balances my body and mind. Any fears and anxieties about my recent life changes are transformed, as I sit with the thoughts and watch the breath. Fears and anxieties flow out of the mind; trust and patience flow in. The mind shift happens because I surrender to the rhythm of the breath…the rhythm of the ocean…the rhythm of the Universe. I notice when my mind shifts, my mood lifts. Then I see the truth in change, which is: stillness exists amid change. Just like there is always a pause between the wave coming ashore and returning to sea. Just like there is always a pause between the inhalation and the exhalation. We only need to become aware of that pause.

When breathing with the ocean, sometimes I’ll sit on the sand, enjoying the sensation of sitting still right next to so much powerful movement. From this practice, I’ve learned the art of appreciating the importance of rest during periods of major life change. Other times I’ll stand in about a foot of water and allow the waves to move me back and forth. Feeling the sensation of the tide against my body, I learn to appreciate the importance of surrender to the unknowns which arise during change.

Oceanside pranayama teaches me about the ebb and flows of my mind. And how easy it is to get carried away by a thought; healthy positive ones take us out into the great sea of supreme consciousness where we float. This is Bliss. Unhealthy negative thoughts drag us into a rip tide and can even sink us to the bottom of the sea. This is suffering.

Rasa, Balance, Joy

Here in Santa Barbara, this paradise by the sea, I am the lucky recipient of some powerful Rasayana – Mother Nature style. Rasayana means rejuvenation. The root word “ayana” means “path”. For me the current path to physical, mental and spiritual rejuvenation leads me to the ocean – to the sea of rasa…the sea of love. It’s here amid the movement and sound of the waves and seagulls, I find stillness in my mind. In that stillness, life becomes flavored by rasa. Rasa, the sweet life giving nectar, brings balance to the body and mind. Rasa gives joy to the heart. It gives joy to the world. And “joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me.” May we all enjoy and savor the sweet taste of rasa today and always.

So the next time you lose your mind
I promise to lose heart
And take my business elsewhere.

]]> http://kellenbrugman.wordpress.com/2011/05/27/give-and-take/feed/ 0 kellenbrugman http://kellenbrugman.wordpress.com/2011/05/10/teeter-totter/ http://kellenbrugman.wordpress.com/2011/05/10/teeter-totter/#comments Tue, 10 May 2011 18:30:15 +0000 kellenbrugman http://kellenbrugman.wordpress.com/?p=358 ]]> mood swings and monkey bar rings.

life’s a playground

in the recess of the mind.

Photo by Michael Stern

And so the journey into the eight limbs of yoga and the life of trees continues.  During the past week, the trees in New Mexico have sprouted more leaves.  The neighborhood becomes greener and there are now shady respites along my dog walking route.  As I watch the trees, a sense of new beginnings crescendos with each new leaf.  As I’ve practiced on the mat, through each pose and each breath, I’ve also felt a sense of new beginnings.  Following are observations from the practice of doing yoga and watching trees.

4. Pranayama.  This is control of the breath and the vital life energy -the prana.  Pranayama calms the nervous system, and nourishes the lungs, heart and other vital organs.  It also soothes the mental body by balancing sattva, rajas and tamas in the mind.  From the moment we are born, we breathe non-stop until our death.  And at our death we leave this world escorted by the breath on an exhale.  Like us, trees during their lifetime are constantly breathing.  They inhale carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen.  Their breathing is called photosynthesis.  Photosynthesis means “putting together with light.”  Sunlight is their catalyst for this divine transformation.  This light is the catalyst which ignites the trees agni.  Agni is the transforming energy of the fire element.  The tree’s agni transforms nutrients from the soil, water from rain, light from the sun and carbon dioxide from the air.  This transformation process creates nourishment, strength, growth and vitality in the tree.  It also creates oxygen for the environment.

Pranayama stokes the body and mind’s agni.  In the physical body, agni is the main digestive fire, as well as 39 other important agnis which occur in the 7 dhatus (tissues) all the way down to the cell nucleus.  According to the Vedas, the prana in the human body is a similar force as the sun in Nature.  (Resource: “Yoga and Ayurveda” by Dr. David Frawley).  Just as the sun transforms all life functions on Earth, prana transforms all life functions in the body.  Prana transforms the body and mind, as well as awakens the inner light of the Spirit.  Pranayama creates purification, rejuvenation, growth and expansion of the Spirit.  It helps one to go beyond the limitations and delusions of the body and mind.  The Light of the Divine is the source of all spiritual growth. 

Pranayama also teaches the importance and beauty of space.  In autumn, through the act of an exhalation of tree sorts, the tree lets go of its leaves.   Its divine nakedness of bare branches creates a lovely vision of patterns in the space where once leaves filled the limbs. Spaces which were not before seen now appear against the backdrop of the sky.  Trees in autumn remind us of the beauty of space.  In all creation there exists space.  In fact, space is necessary for any creative act, whether it’s the space in a Motzart concerto, Munch painting or the nucleus of a muscle cell.

The space in pranayama offers great creative potential.  In the pauses between the exhale and inhale, there exists the space of Purusha…the Absolute Consciousness.  Purusha is the Divine Consciousness from which the material world was born.  In this space, there is freedom from any and all limitations of the material world, including time and death.  Here, nothing matters…as in no thing matters.  In this space, we discover what matters in reality…and that is communion with our Divine Self…our Soul.  In this space, the Soul begins to dance with creative flow, much like how trees move and sway in the wind.

5. Pratyahara.  Pratyahara means to turn the senses (tanmatras) inward.  The sensory nerves become stressed when they are subjected to constant interaction with the external world. This happens when the eyes watch too much TV or the ears listen to excessive music or talking. Although the branches of a tree expand into the external world, the tree knows how to draw its energy inward too.  The vital life functions of a tree occur in the inner subtle body of the tree.  Nourishment moves through the tree via the passageways (srotamsi) of xylem and phloem.  The sap (rasa) is held in the protective inner tissues.

Another image of pratyahara I receive when observing a tree is the lush, leafy, shaded middle limbs of the tree.  As a child, I would skip my piano lessons and head to the ravine to my favorite tree…a tall willow.  There, suspended about the ferns and skunk cabbage, I withdrew into my world of mandarin oranges and poems.  It’s near the middle of the tree where one can sit feeling totally supported by the tree and safely suspended above the earth.  In this space, I’d write poetry and read books…activities which connected me to my Soul.

One more observation.  When I imagine yoga and a tree in relation to pratyahara, I see a nest.  A nest is a bird’s haven from the external world…the place he returns after he’s out flying the skies and hopping on the ground.  A nest provides the space for rest, rejuvenation and caretaking.  Pratyahara is an energetic nest which is created by withdrawing the senses inward.  Instead of using twigs and grass to construct the nest, we can use the poses, breath and meditation to create a nest…a retreat from the external world.  Pratyahara creates the space where we can rest.  “Less doing and pursuing…more nesting and resting” is a sacred act of Self realization and preservation.

6. Dharana.  This is the practice of learning the art of awareness.  Being aware helps us understand our very Being.  It allows us to navigate life with clarity and ease.  Awareness requires focus and concentration.  Shakespeare said, “to thine own self be true.”  But how can we be true to our Self, when we don’t even know ourSelf?  Dharana helps us begin to discover and experience the truth by diverting our attention away from what we are not, and instead drawing us toward “what is”.  A classic Indian chant, “tadasmiham…tadasmiham” means “I am that…I am that.”  When we discover and align with our true nature, we become aware of who we were created to be.  Who I am.  Teachers, counselors, and gurus are helpful in the learning process; however, to know the meaning of life…your life…requires self learning/self awareness.  Self learning leads to Self knowledge…the knowledge which liberates one to say with complete confidence, “I am that”.

Self knowledge is vital to health and happiness.  I’ve found spending time in Nature, especially around trees, to be key at helping me align with my Self.  The word for knowledge is related to the word for tree.  In Sanskrit the word for knowledge is “vidya”. This is from the root “vid” meaning “to know”.  The names for forest, wood and tree in the ancient Scandinavian language and in Old English are “vid” and “widu”.  The English words “wits” and “wisdom” stem from this root.

Trees seem to always be in a state of dharana.  Being aware requires staying put and focusing focus on the present moment.  A tree’s nature is to remain in one spot for their entire life.  An oak doesn’t multi-task; meaning, it doesn’t produce leaves and shed leaves at the same time.  The oak honors is aligned with Nature and her seasons.  So, the oak creates new leaves in spring and sheds the old leaves in autumn.  The maple tree doesn’t grow leaves and produce sap for maple syrup at the same time.  It’s attuned to the cycles of Nature and thus creates leaves in spring and sap in winter.  Trees are attuned to the cycles of life and know when it’s time to create and when it’s time to release.  Even the little oak tree acorn practices dharana.  The acorn knows its purpose and uses its energy to focus on becoming a tree.  (This is assuming a squirrel does not gather the acorn for his breakfast!)  Knowing our life purpose requires awareness and mindfulness.  Awareness reminds us that life IS in each moment.

7. Dhyana.  Reflection and meditation without interruption is dhyana.  Dhyana is a natural state of being in a constant state of awareness.  Awareness aligns thought with the present moment.  The present moment is life.  The past is dead and the future is not yet created.  Life occurs in the present moment.  Trees live this truth.  A few years ago I met my first redwood.  As I stood in her trunk, I felt the external world disappear as I melded into the internal world of the redwood and into the internal world of my Soul.  As I reflected on my redwood experience, I thought “I could make a redwood my home.”  Then I realized I felt so at home, because the redwood connected me to my Spirit…my eternal home.

Dhyana helps us realize we are always home.  By reflecting on the present moment, we witness the Divine’s reflection looking at us.  That reflection is the Light of the Divine which has the potential to be the Light in the world.  Dhyana is the act of reflecting the Divine Light onto the world around us.

The Buddhist meditation principle of “chop wood, carry water” means that our life can be an act of moment to moment meditation.  An important Meditation 101 principle: There is no one way to meditate.  There are as many techniques and ways to meditate as there are trees.  An oak tree doesn’t have to ask an oak tree how to BE an oak tree.  It just knows.  Its inner intelligence and divinity guide its manifestation from acorn to sapling to tree to acorn again.  And all through this process, the oak tree practices dhyana…moment to moment awareness.

8. Samadhi.  “Sama” means harmony and “dhi” means intelligence.  A translation which resonates with my heart is “being in harmony with the Divine intelligence of all life”.  Samadhi is a state of bliss and pure stillness.  It’s similar to the sense of freedom and contentment one feels while perched in a treetop.  (I know why birds perch in trees…it feels great!)  While sitting there, you realize you are one with the tree, one with the bird singing in the tree, one with the mountain you can see over yonder, and even one with the little ant crawling on the tree bark.  Samadhi is the sense of not having or wanting to be anywhere else but in the tree.  The tree has become your world and your world has become the tree.

One of my teachers of Ayurveda, Dr. Vasant Lad, often says, “you are the world and the world is you.”  Expanding on this, I feel samadhi is communing with the Divine intelligence in your heart; whereby, you enjoy who you were created to be and in doing so you enjoy all of creation.  By being at one with your Self and the world, you realize it is a wonderful world.

Closing

Where I now live in New Mexico, spring blossoms with a display of fullness and richness and the newly awakened green trees soften the hard and rough aspects of the high dry desert.  The trees awaken my heart to the creative potential in myself and in this wonderful world.  The classic song, “What A Wonderful World” made famous by Louis Armstrong (written by Bob Thiele and George David Weiss), opens with a line about trees.

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom, for me and you

and I think to myself, what a wonderful world

It’s been my experience that both trees and yoga have helped me discover the wonder, beauty, and sacredness of life.  This spring, may your yoga practice include rooting deeper into the eight limbs of yoga where your Soul becomes nourished and your life branches out in many beautiful new ways.  I encourage you to take your mat outdoors and practice yoga next to a tree.  Happy springtime awakenings in your life.

It is springtime and nearly impossible to not notice the trees.  Being in hibernation the past few months, they are now awakening.  The light and warmth of the sun has called them out of their slumber.  They hear the sun’s call and reply with verdant green displays of life.  The trees and sun share a sacred relationship, one that embodies the power and beauty of agni – the energy of transformation.  Agni in Nature is amazing to observe.  In springtime, agni works as a force of creation.  This force of Nature is felt by all living creatures, as it is the season where flowers emerge from what was once silent ground and butterflies appear from the warm ethers.  During spring, animals mate, bees buzz, ants march, and peoples’ thoughts turn to romance and rejuvenation.  It’s also a wonderful time to experience transformation in ones yoga practice.

It is the tree in springtime that has always touched my heart and awakened my yogini spirit.  The new leaves are a tender message of “congratulations you survived winter and now it’s time to create new life.”  I find myself experiencing a renewal in my yoga practice.  I’m not shy to admit that in wintertime my practice takes a sort of hibernation, where I sometimes don’t practice for days.  But come spring, I hear the call of Nature and unfold the mat to the promises of new growth in my practice and life.

In spring, I am drawn to the prana (life force) of the tree branches; whereas, in winter the root system of the trees beckon my attention.  The tree branches, at rest during the winter, have stretched; and now, bright tender leaves full of rasa (juice) magically appear from the branches.  Branches, which just weeks before, were brown and bare.  The branches, flowing with prana, create new growth.  Each bud and each little leaflet promise to nourish not only the tree, but also the environment.  Trees provide shelter, oxygen, food, and beauty to all those in relationship with them.  Protection, nourishment and pleasure are not only gifts from a tree, but gifts from a yoga practice.

So this spring as you watch the the trees inner Spirit unfolding through the appearance of their new leaves, I invite you to consider how the ancient system of yoga can help unfold your inner Spirit.  And through that sacred, magical and divine unfolding, may you discover the sacredness, beauty and divinity which was and always is your very true essence.

Trees and Yoga: The Bridges Between Heaven and Earth

Throughout the ages, the symbolism of trees has been associated with knowledge, growth, strength, and long life.  This is also true of the ancient system of yoga.  Trees inherently create balance between earth and heaven by using their roots to ground into the stable earth, and then rising upwards through their branches to the infinite sky.  Yoga offers the same experience.  Following a consistent yoga practice, one roots their physical and mental bodies into the ground of the present moment.  From this place, the subtle body begins to awaken and branch into the infinite space of pure Consciousness.  In this space, our human body merges with our spiritual body and we experience oneness with the Divine.  We experience our inner divinity.

Trees and yoga both express the beauty and magic of the Divine. Through their actions of rooting and branching, trees bridge the earthly and heavenly realms.  Through their unique system of pranayama, called photosynthesis, trees express the magic and divinity of their true nature.  They create things like shade, maple syrup, fruit and Ayurvedic medicines.  Trees are a source of life and offer gifts of nourishment and healing to the world.  Through the poses, pranayama and meditation, yoga can help one unite their earthly body with their heavenly spirit.  When this happens, we express the magic and divinity of our true nature.  We then create things which nourish and heal ourselves and our world.

Another similarity between trees and yoga is a sense of balance between self and others…between the individual and Universal worlds.  Each tree is unique- an individual creation of God.  No two oak trees look alike and different trees have different functions in the world…expressions of their individuality.  Yet most trees are part of a forest community.  They contribute to a sustainable community through their relationship with other trees, animals, fungi, insects, and humans.  Likewise, each human is unique.  Ayurveda, the sister science of yoga, acknowledges that each person is a unique expression of the universal elements (ether, air, fire, water and earth) and gunas (sattva, rajas and tamas).  Through yoga, one begins to discover, realize and appreciate their own uniqueness.  But even though we begin to express and honor our individual uniqueness, we also realize and respect our connection with the Universal world.  When we awaken to our true nature, our hearts yearn to be in a state of Oneness with the world.  We then begin to live in ways which respect and value ourselves and our community.  We create a sustainable forest of sorts.

Trees and Ashtanga Yoga

Patanjali, who is known as the “father of yoga”, wrote “The Yoga Sutras” in the third century BC.  In Chapter II verse 29, he describes eight practices which help one live a healthier and happier life.  These eight principles are often referred to as the eight limbs of yoga and the stepping stones on the path to enlightenment. This system is called, “Ashtanga Yoga” and its goal is reaching enlightenment.  “Ashtanga” in Sanskrit means “the eight parts”. “Yoga” translates to “union” or “to connect”.  Uniting with our true nature – our inner divinity, IS an enlightening experience.  The Soul always desires to connect with its Source…the Divine.  When we uncover/discover/recover the Divine light in our Self, we then begin to become aware of that same light in other beings.  Yoga creates a sense of wholeness and holiness.

Following Patanjali’s eight steps, also referred to as limbs, is similar to climbing a tree.  Although I don’t climb nearly as high when I did as a kid, I will still climb a tree when it beckons me to do so.  If you’ve ever climbed a tree and then relaxed onto its limbs and branches, you’ve probably experienced some kind of transformation in your mind and spirit.  Not to mention in the muscles!  I think many of the ancient yogi sages must have climbed trees, in addition to sitting under them.

I’ve been watching the trees near me this spring and in doing so have been inspired to observe my personal yoga practice as it relates to a tree.  Trees are naturally and always doing yoga.  Following are my observations, as I’ve sat and listened to what the trees had to teach me about the eight limbs of Ashtanga Yoga.

The Eight Limbs of Yoga

1. Yamas.  The yamas are a code of morals that when followed improve our external relationships in the world we live.  The external world includes our fellow human beings, animals and plant life.  It’s all living beings on earth.  The yamas are: nonviolence, truthfulness, nonstealing, sexual continence, and nonattachment.  The Yamas are like the roots of the tree.  Roots connect and stabilize a tree into the earth.  Being rooted in such moral beliefs and behaviors creates a stable and healthy foundation for any relationship, as well as creating a sustainable and safe community for all living beings.

In addition to stability, a tree’s root system provides nourishment.  Earth is the source of nourishment and only by developing its root system can the tree survive and flourish.  Also, the deeper the roots connect with the earth, the more stable the tree is when windstorms blow through.  Same goes with us.  The more we seek nourishment from practices like the yamas, the healthier we grow in body, mind and spirit.  The healthier and deeper our roots, the more we are able to remain grounded when the storms of life blow in.  When we practice the yamas the better rooted we are in our true nature.  From this place, our thoughts, behaviors and actions reflect the Divine.

2. Niyamas.  These are observances which improve the internal relationship with our body, mind and spirit.  The niyamas are also rituals or practices which help cultivate a more intimate relationship with God.  They are purity (in body, action and thought), contentment, self-discipline, Self-study, and surrender to God.  I like to think of the yamas as the roots at the very base of the tree…the ones which are seen above ground.  This could also include the junction of the roots and trunk.  For this is the place where the energies of the tree are both grounding and extending…connecting with the earth and reaching for the Heavens.  No wonder sitting at the base of a tree is such a calming, refreshing and divine experience.  Practicing the niyamas helps us to realize our own divinity.

3. Asana.  Asana means seat, as well as pose.  In Patanjali’s yoga sutra chapter II verse 46, he says “Sthira-sukham asanam.”  A translation is “to sit with stability and ease”.  The poses help balance the doshas, dhatus, organs and systems in the body.  When these are balanced, a person is stable.  “Sthira” means stable.  One of the qualities (gunas) which describes a tree is stable.  Not only do the roots provide stability, the trunk does as well.  In yoga the tree pose Vrksasana helps improve balance.  Keen balance, whether in the mind or body, creates stability…physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

“Sukha” means ease or pleasure.  In Ayurveda, it’s one of the definitions of health.  When one is healthy, one feels at ease.  Trees seem to always be in a state of ease.  Their limbs sway in the wind.  In Ayurveda, wind is associated with the air element.  Air is associated with the vata dosha.  Vata is related to movement and to change.  Often when the winds of change blow in, the tendency is to resist the change.  Yoga not only creates flexibility in body, but it teaches one to become flexible in mind.  It teaches ways to be adaptable when life changes course.  Being adaptable contributes to overall health.  Health is being at ease, where the loss of health is called disease.  When we are healthy, we feel pleasure…”sukha”.

How exactly do trees do yoga asana?  Well, they are in a constant state of stretching, moving and sitting.   The stretch toward the sky and down into the earth.  They move side to side with the wind.  They can even twist; an example is the juniper trees in Sedona.  Another way in which trees relate to asana and the human body is through their anatomy and physiology.  A tree has an outer bark and 4 layers in its inner bark.  The outer bark protects the inner layers, much like the skin, muscles, fat and bone protect the more delicate nervous system tissues and vital organs.  The bark offers support and protection. The inner tissues are the storehouse and pathway for the transportation of nutrients.  The leaves are the site for digestive agni of photosynthesis.  In yoga, the asanas help tone and maintain the physical body.  All 7 dhatus (tissues) benefit from a regular yoga practice.  When the musculoskeletal system is balanced between strength and flexibility, the body is stable and protected.  Asana also helps improve the function of the vital organs.

Summary

The first three limbs – yama, niyama, and asana are more of an external practice. During the course of this week, take your mat outdoors and practice near a tree.  As the trees begin or continue to unfold and display their beauty…move and breathe with them…and witness an awakening in your body, mind and spirit.  The remaining five limbs will be explored in next week’s article.

Meditation

is

Medication

for the mind.

Dosage:  Daily

Refills:  Each moment for Eternity.

Possible Side Effects:  Clarity, vitality, joy, pleasure, focus, compassion, bliss.

Cost:  Free

Insurance Plan:  Covered by the blessed assurance of the Divine.