Must Read - great yoga article by Karin Burke

Singapore, Singapore - today is our last day here, and we are finally off to Indonesia. 

This is by far one of my favourite "yoga articles" circulating on the internet, written by Karin Burke, and I feel like I want to share it with everyone.  It spoke to me immensely, and what Burke so eloquently writes about is a vital aspect of the path that all yogis need not forget. On this journey, I myself have had so many different emotions arise, and this piece was a reenforcement of what I already know deep inside: to not fear any of them, to look them in the eye, and face myself in all my light, and all my shadows. To not be afraid to go there, and see all my facets.

This is exactly why I am here. 

A few days ago, while on the road, we were met with another unexpected detour. While in Singapore, in transit to Indonesia, we were told that we would not be allowed on our flight (politics shmolotics).

Lionda and I just stood in the middle of the airport and held each other ... for a long time. We were bloody exhausted, and it was almost as if we were holding each other up. In fact - and this may be slightly on the esoteric side but - I could almost feel eyes on us, as if the Universe was observing, and softening with our love.

It went beyond the flight trouble. I won't go into all the factors, and details - there's no need to put more attention on anything or anyone that was weighing us down - but needless to say, it was felt hauntingly taxing.

Yet, simultaneously, as we moved through all that thick molasses of unexpected bullshit, negativity, and unaware human beings, I felt myself richer, and more rooted in all those that I love, that love me, and my trust in the Universe.

It still doesn't really what to make of it all. And that's okay. I give myself permission to feel every inch of my rage, fear, sadness, and fatigue. And I give myself permission to be excited to finally be getting out of Singapore.

Adios Singaporean Amigos.

Rage, fear, sadness, fatigue. The yoga of darkness.

“Emotion is the chief source of all becoming-conscious. There can be no transforming of darkness into light and of apathy into movement without emotion.” -Carl Jung

I once had a student who started to drift away and began to look sheepishly apologetic when she did come to class.  She avoided my eyes and had an invisible wall around her mat.  She used to ask questions or chat after class; now she was the first out of the room and gone from the studio by the time I’d left my mat.  Eventually, though, we did talk a little.  She told me things were busy.  She talked about her kids.  Then she looked somewhere into the middle distance  and said she didn’t know, really; yoga just wasn’t working any more.

Sometimes, she said, all I feel in child’s pose is anger and disappointment.

Yoga has a corner market on feel good words.  I recently had a massage therapist tell me we were both in the ‘feel good industry’.   The promise of ‘enlightenment’ tends to make us think we will be more spiritual, and this somehow means we’ll be a little less freakish about time, our kids, our money.  There is truth to this.  Yoga can show us how good it feels to be alive.

But yoga will also show us exactly how badly we feel.  Usually, when honest emotion starts to come up, students leave.  They skip class or decide yoga wasn’t what they wanted.  They say ‘it’s not working any longer’.  The emotion itself keeps them away; they’re ‘not in the mood’, ‘too busy’,  or ‘too depressed to move’.  They will  - trust me, this is real – feel guilty for feeling so crummy when others are just trying to get their savasana on.

This doesn’t indicate that the yoga isn’t working, but that it IS.  The end isn’t this negativity, this disappointment.  But negativity is part of the path, and it has to be gone through if you want to understand it, to understand yourself, at all.  If you don’t, you’ll be shutting down half of your experience of life, and probably the best strengths you’ll ever find.  If you don’t, you’ll continue to skip, overcompensate, repeat, and lull.  You’ll segue irritation into nicety, stuff it, and it will erupt later as rage toward an intimate or yourself.

Most of us have spent the majority of our lives stuffing and repressing our feelings, rationalizing them, avoiding them, or sublimating them into exercise, food, cigarettes, television, shallow relationships.  Women are taught not to feel anger because it’s not nice, not feminine (or too feminine and bitchy, emotional, hormonal and out of control).  Men are supposed to feel competence, all the time.  In our efforts to feel better, many of us start  shutting it off, wholesale, in favor of pop psychology or easy spirituality.  It’s called spiritual bypass.  It’s an attempt to avoid painful feelings, unresolved issues, or truthful developmental needs with such words as ‘everything happens for a reason’,  ’god’s ways are not our ways’, or ‘choose happiness’.

There will be a yoga class, someday, online or at your local studio, where your teacher will start singing. She’ll say ‘exhale’ as if there’s something orgasmic about it.  She might allude to the goodness of your heart, your hamstrings, or the light inside.

If you are like me, this may make you clench your bandhas like a fist.  There may come a day you lower down into child’s pose, “sweet, receptive, safe” child’s pose and feel nothing but boredom, irritability, and dis-ease.  You keep lifting your head off the mat, looking at the clock.  There may come a day your brain starts swearing at the lovely yoga teacher saying something vapid about love in your newly blossomed chakra.

Here is the thing.  Yoga is not about bliss, but about honesty.  Spirituality is not certainty, but the longing of the heart.  Enlightenment is not ‘letting go’ of bad feelings, but understanding them, what they’re doing to us, and how they are expressed in the body.  Non-harming and forgiveness are not about feeling generous or big enough (bigger than and condescending), but knowing the difficulty of right actions and assuming responsibility for the difficult.  Forgiveness often comes directly out of acknowledging how bloody bitter we are.  Love is not joy, all the time. Sometimes, love hurts. Love is raw.

Yoga is a love story.  Not the fluffy, romanticized love story, but the real one.  The kind that leaves you changed.

Emotions are doorways, ways in.  The goal is not to exist without shadows, to become so spiritual we no longer feel fat, bored, envious, or impatient.  The goal is to swallow hard as we take on willingness to go into the dark.

Because yoga asks you to work with both your body and your mind, the inevitable result is going to be messy.  There will be times the body itself will start in on anger, hot and fast, trembly, without the reasoning mind having a clue what is going on.  There will be days the boredom or loneliness seem so sharp they may actually wound.  There will be five thousand ways your mind will tell you it isn’t worth it, it won’t work, that love is not real.

Yet, yoga has probably already given you a clue to this.  You’ve probably already felt how love – whether it be romantic or ethical, compassion, right living, making a solidity of your name – is the only thing that is real.  The highest and best in human beings is subtle, mysterious, and tied directly to the shadows.  Life is both unbearably cruel and devastatingly sweet, often at the same time.

The shadows will show up.  Go there.  Apathy, acedia, what Christian mystics called desolation, existentials call despair, moves when we move toward it.  It isn’t the passage of time that heals us, but the passing through experiences.

There are hundreds of things telling us to ‘get over it’, to ‘think positively’, or to ‘let it go’.  Be wary of these as the roadside distractions that they are.

Yoga is the love story where in things fall apart.  God moves away, often at the same time he takes away the ground.  First goes this, then goes that.  Gone are the thrill of the first months of yoga class, the ease of learning something new every time you walked in the door.  Gone is the schedule that allowed you class three times a week.  Gone is the strength in your shoulders, the ability to keep on a diet.  Gone is the confidence of conversion.

And then a small movement in the heart.  And then two.

 AUGUST 21, 2013 BY KARIN L BURKE

Catching Up

A day after I wrote my last post, I found out that our stay in Latvia had to be extended. I won't go into detail, but in short, the matter was unexpected and we were forced to entirely re-route. The process proved to be rather taxing -- as those things usually are. When we finally did make it on a plane to South East Asia, it was taking us to Hanoi, Vietnam - about 1500km from our original destination point. And as we sardine-packed ourselves into a rusty minibus to the city center, and the heat, and smells, and the stomach-wrenching sound of the girl vomiting in front began to rapidly engulf us, Lionda and I just looked at each other and smiled. Hello Vietnam.

We spent the following week traveling down the coast of Vietnam to Cambodia (Ha Noi ---> Da Nang/ Hội An ---> Ho Chi Minh City ---> Phnom Phen). In total, we spent over 60 hours on trains, sleeping buses, taxis, and so forth. It felt a bit intense at first, constantly moving from place to place, but the unexpected detour turned out to be surprisingly fruitful and educational. With everything behind us now, there is a sense of appreciation for life's little complications. I feel grateful to have seen this unique, beautiful, and buzzing country, which otherwise we may have missed.

I can say that we especially enjoyed the food experience in The Old Quarter in Hanoi, where an array of low tables and plastic stools color every street corner. We even had fried noodles and Tiger Beer for breakfast. That is one of my fondest memories -- perhaps because it was so unlike us, and a reflection of our unwitting appetite to experience the food culture in its authentic form. We also took delight in the historic city of Hội An.

 

This is a video of us eating street food style breakfast in Hanoi, Vietnam.

 Now we are on Koh Rong island in Cambodia. Life is relaxed here, and most days Lionda and I read, write, or research future ventures. We've started to regularly practice together. Unless the weather conditions don't permit it, we wake up with the roosters and either head to the beach or a little vacant bungalow deck that we have discovered, and do about a 60-75 minute practice. I still don't have a mat, but plan on getting one at soon as I find the opportunity. When I was in Siem Reap, I visited the Peace Cafe, where I took yoga last time I visited Cambodia. They had the cheap (think Target-style) mats there for $18. Looking back at it, I should have just gotten one - it would have been better than nothing - but in the moment, it just seemed ludicrous.

So that was my best effort in summarizing the past month -- which really has felt like 6 months, due to the density of each day. I will make a better effort to stay more consistent.

Hometown Glory

 “Your true home is in the here and the now.”  Thich-Nhat-Hanh

I have less than a week in Latvia. It happened so fast, and as my beautiful friend Shanti said on the phone this morning, now is the perfect time for me to strengthen my ability to stay relentlessly present. I try to not think about the next day all too much, let alone next week, or I begin to feel overwhelmed. I've had numerous people ask me what time my flight is on Wednesday, and I smile and say, how am I to know? - that is next week.

I wish for more slow mornings like this, but I know that this is the last one. The next couple of days are booked with relatives, dinners, a wedding, last moment errands, other miscellaneous events, the travel in between, and so forth. I recall that first morning, almost 30 days ago: I was sipping my coffee at Lionda's parents house, and utterly bare of obligations. It is almost odd how quickly that turned around, almost as if to toy. 

In the end, my time here has felt somewhat marathon-like, but I guess that is to be expected when you wait three years to come home, and try to play catch up in 30 days. To all those that I saw for a very short burst, or did not get to see at all, I hope that they know I care. My heart has been a little restless, and the only thing consoles, is the hope that people understand. 

It's always the same for me here. The first week I feel bluntly tense, the second week I begin to ease, the third week I love it, and during the last, I begin to wonder, what if. Now my heart is filled with an array of royal jewels. As I venture into my next stage of my journey, I have to remind myself of this pattern. Give everything some time. And maybe there will light,  maybe there will be glory. And with that I am off to finish the last stretch. I hear that the last six miles of a marathon are about the same in effort as the first twenty - hopefully it's not entirely an escalating crescendo of stress.

My grandpa and grandpa in Suntazi, Latvia.

I am trying.

It's my second morning in Denmark. This morning my Dadi Jimbo flew back to California. We spent all of yesterday together, visiting Danish castles, sleeping by the sea, eating ice cream, and being lazy. I woke up today, in my beautiful room, and more than usual, felt the strong underlying current of change. I miss the company already, but am grateful for the short time we had, and I am happy to know that my mother will soon have her 007 by her side. A new life begins for my parents, as for the first time they will have the Hilltop house entirely to themselves. Their children scattered all of the world...

It's 9am, and I am having a hard time kick starting this day. I had planned to go for a run in the morning, but  my achilles still aches from the 10K Nike Charity Run that Lionda and I part took in 2 days ago in Riga. I also like my room, and part of me just wants to listen to James Vincent McMorrow, take in the sounds of Copenhagen outside my big windows, and slow down. The last couple of days have felt like a marathon.

I think while I am here, I will try to keep any defined plans to a minimum, and just go with the flow. The only firm commitment I have today is to meet my little brother, Thomas, at his new school at 13:45pm. That gives me a little bit of time for whatever I like, and I think I might just try to take a class from yogatoday.com. I don't have a mat, but the wood floors here seem nice enough, and I am getting used to the discomfort of being studio-less.

 My last asana-practice was at my friends apartment in Riga, the day before the 10k. I was off and felt desperate to quite down my thoughts. No one was home, and I gave her floor a quick sweep, put on t-shirt, and my running shorts, and got into a downward facing dog and started breathing. It was actually a great practice, aside from the fact that my hands started slipping the instant that I got warmed up. I practiced for about 40 minutes and it made a world of a difference. All things considered, I think I am doing decent with the asana aspect of my practice. I am trying.

I also want to find some time to begin my new book, "Winter Tales" by Isak Dinesen. Dadi Jimbo and I visited Karen Blixen's Museum yesterday (http://blixen.dk/), and he gave this book to me.

I leave you with some photos from my stay in Denmark thus far. Every time I visit Denmark, I fall more and more in  love with it. Perhaps one day, when I am finally ready to grow roots and settle down, this is the place I could commit to and call home 4.0. I

Daddi Jimbo and I

When I took the Myers-Briggs at 25, and it told me I was an introvert, I thought I had done something wrong on the test. All my life I had been labeled as an extrovert. I called some friends, and 90% of them agreed - it was a mistake. I'd loved theater, and had enjoyed all my public speaking classes in college. There was no way, plus, I didn't want to be an introvert!!!

However, one very close and wise friend, agreed with Myers-Briggs. We discussed it for weeks over coffee, and over time I became more open-minded to the idea. A year later, accepting that part of myself, has brought a lot of peace. What I often genuinely want and need, makes more sense now, and I am more likely to not go against it.

“Introversion is a basic temperament, so the social aspect -- which is what people focus on -- is really a small part of being an introvert," - Dr. Marti Olsen Laney, psychotherapist and author of "The Introvert Advantage.

Naturally, I got a kick out of finding this article and wanted to share.

23 Signs You're Secretly An Introvert

August 13th, 12:42am. Distractions.

In the starkness of the night, on the last train home tonight, it hit me. All the history, all the bad blood, all the smeared mascara in the world cannot undo kindness.

What you thought was this heart going to war, was in fact, a masterpiece. Unwittingly, he built what could not be undone; a red scarf for all those raging bulls.

What you thought was damaged, in fact, still works. He kept it safe, put away. Oiled and smooth, like it's still 16. It can skip a beat. It can loose its breath. It doesn't think, it feels. It stutters. It gets shy. There is no cynicism, there is no thick fog, or fear. It just sat there all those years, protected, at peace, loving you.

Without a doubt, loving you.

I still don't have a mat.

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, very far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answers."

Rainer Maria Rilke

I still don't have a mat, and although I have been practicing in the most beautiful places, I am beginning to feel disconnected. Today I am severely missing my yoga community, my yoga friends, my yoga teachers, and the beautiful designated asana and meditation spaces that I was blessed enough to practice in.

The sand by the sea, and the dewy grass in my friend's and grandparent's back yard has served as my mat thus far. As one would expect, it was invigorating at first - the smell of the water, the grass, the wind in my hair. Now some of these elements are beginning to feel less glamorous and more like annoyances, and at times, distractions. My hands constantly sink into the sand, and I wonder if it's any good for my wrists. I slip in the dewy grass, and I perpetually fidget and adjust myself. Even the postures that usually bring immense stillness to my body, like Adho Mukha Svanasana, lack focus. Not to mention that every time I practice outside, I always come home looking like I just fought a wolf.

I've looked up classes in the city, Riga. The most popular studio is actually owned by a family friend, but it is a Bikram studio, and I would prefer to practice traditional hatha/vinyasa style. However, I have considered reaching out to him and checking it out - who knows - maybe it would be different than my experiences in California. From what I hear, this studio has wood floors and not carpet and that in itself is a huge plus. At this point, I have to stay somewhat open minded.

All the other studios I found only offer about one or two classes a day (or retreats), and it is hard to tell what type of classes they are. Basically, there's just not a whole lot of yoga happening in my country. I am hope that when I go to Copenhagen in a week to see my little brother and dad, that I am able to quickly find a studio there and take as many classes as possible. I imagine CPH's yoga community is just as developed as Stockholm's, where I took some awesome classes a few years back. I am looking forward to that.

Meanwhile, I have decided that I need a mat. I just can't do it anymore. Yoga without guidance, without the community, is challenging enough. I need a bloody mat. My childhood friend, who I am staying with, manages a sporting goods store, and she said I could come in and check out some of the mats that they carry. I am planning to take the train to the city tomorrow to visit her location. They don't have any brands that I am familiar with, but I am sure I can find something to suit me.

Meanwhile, I am just going to try and enjoy the nature. I know that the bumps I am experiencing is the work I need to be doing, and I trying my very best. I just recently read a quote that really resonated with me by my favorite author/writer Maya Angelou. Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better; do better.  

Anyways, here are some photos from a 3 day river trip that I went on with Lionda's family, plus some other places that I captured while running or hiking that have brought me energy, and inspiration. Until next time.