I don’t teach yoga. Yoga teaches me.
For the past few months, I have maintained mostly silence. All the amazing and transformative experiences brought to me by constant practice, I have kept to myself. I lost the impulse to share, to blog or post about my feelings or openings or closings or understandings. It…just went.
I stopped caring about capturing yoga students. I stopped caring about adding a fresh voice to the yoga blogosphere. I stopped trying to be clever, new or insightful. I guess that I went inside. It felt good. It feels good. My inner voice is loudly private. What bearing has my experience of yoga on yours? Very little.
For this reason, out of the silence came this phrase: I don’t teach yoga. Yoga teaches me.
Say it to yourself. Repeat it a few times. Change the intonation. You will see what I mean.
Yoga teaches me to be patient.
Yoga teaches me to listen.
Yoga teaches me the value of constancy and dedication.
Yoga teaches me that pain is a signal to stop.
Yoga teaches me to listen to my intuition, to stop when it says stop and to pay little heed to what others are doing.
Yoga teaches me that when people are ready, they will arrive.
Yoga teaches me that some people are never going to be ready for yoga, in this lifetime, or perhaps in the bit of a lifetime that you may know them.
Yoga teaches me to love those who don’t practice with equal intensity and without judgement.
Yoga teaches me that people’s bad behaviour is a sign of their inner suffering and they need compassion, not criticism. But you don’t need to be their best friend, either.
Yoga teaches me that being alone and maintaining silence is often the only remedy.
Yoga teaches me to delay gratification.
Yoga teaches me to communicate clearly and non-violently, verbally and non-verbally.
Yoga teaches me to look within, assess clinically what I find, undo the knots and find out that I too have a lovely, gentle, kind, open, accepting soul.
Yoga teaches me that what I thought to be “me”, what I mistook for “who I am”, those things people call character, is all an illusion, an armour that I made while trying to protect myself.
Yoga teaches me to remember this armour for when I need it, but to shed it most of the time.
Yoga teaches me to relax.
Yoga teaches me to be, and in being, to do good, while remaining detached from the fruits of the actions.
I don’t teach yoga. Yoga teaches me.
In Praise of The Underworld
They spray the trees in our finca, too. The pesticide mix is called “aceite de verano”.
La ciencia del yoga
Muy interesante artículo…http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/gallery/2014/jul/22/serpentine-swimming-club-in-pictures
Into joint – healing the shoulders
The shoulder joint is the joint in the human body with the greatest range of motion. To keep the shoulder joint stable, we have the wonderful rotator cuff, a group of small muscles below the armpit and shoulderblade. Sadly, these little muscles are ofter under-developed, leaving the shoulder unsupported and prone to pain and dislocation. This little sequence is very healing for shoulders. I learned it from Claude Maréchal, the head of the Viniyoga lineage in Europe. But, the shoulder-drop to the floor with the arms at vertical is pure Rachel…my little contribution to the sequence to make it more healing…Try to do this six times, twice a day.
Fundación Dharma
He tenido el gran placer de conocer a Luis, el director de la ONG Fundación Dharma y Dharma Travel, ayer en el Festival de Yoga 21J. Me parece que hacen unos trabajos muy dignos y importantes en la India, en Vrindavan, el pueblo nativo del Señor Krishna. Organizan viajes a la India, y dan de comer a más de 4000 personas al día. Tienen un temple en Monóvar, cerca de Elda, en la provincia de Alicante, España, donde enseñan el Bhakti Yoga, hacen ceremonias de fuego y honran los días festivos indúes.
El vínculo entre la religión indú y el yoga existe, claramente. Sin embargo, no es necesario tener ningún creencia religiosa para poder prácticar el hatha yoga. Pienso que cuando entramos en el Astanga Yoga – con todos los ocho miembros presentes en nuestra práctica, es ligeramente más difícil separar el yoga del induismo.
Quienes me conocen saben que el mantra es lo mío. He hecho todo una sanación a través del mantra, sobre todo el Gayatri. Pero, claro, cantar mantras sanscritos casi siempre significa nombrar dioses del pantheón Indico. Los mantras bija son menos “religiosos” y se considera que actuan directamante sobre los nadis y los granthis del cuerpo físico (piensate en los meridianos y puntos de acupuntura de la madicina china). Pero, el rítmo de los mantras sanscritos me llama más la atención. O mejor dicho, me ayuda más a orientar la mente en una sola dirección durante un tiempo determinado.
Pero no soy indú.
Hay todo un discurso hoy en día sobre lo que se denomina “cultural appropriation”, en inglés. Es el neo-colonialismo cultural. No sé que pienso de eso. Creo que el futuro de la humanidad reside en mezclar todas nuestras culturas para creer algo pan-humanista. No quiero ofender a nadie cantando unos mantras a Krishna, lo veo inofensivo.
Actualizaciones calendario – calendar updates
There are a couple of yoga events in June that might be of interest to you: Hay un par de eventos yoga durante el mes de junio que podrían estar de interés: Check the calendar, please. http://alteayoga.com/calendar/
An interesting read
http://www.thefountainhead.co.za/articles/treatbreastcancer.asp
Fridays 10 am
Hatha yoga for women. 10am-11:15. Altea.
Worrier to warrior
Most of us spend a lot of time worrying. Worry is perhaps the most futile mental activity imaginable. Worrying, sometimes called excessive rumination, is when we sit there turning the same thoughts over in our heads, envisioning all possible outcomes, all possible reasons, abstracting and having imaginary conversations and doing absolutely nothing – NOTHING – about the problem at hand.
No, worrying achieves nothing. Action achieves results. Planning your action is healthy. Worrying is not planning, though. It is worrying. My mother was a champion worrier. I learned from the best and spent many years perfecting my craft. The only thing I can say all this worrying gave me was the concrete and iron-clad desire to change the way my mind worked. To stop worrying. Don’t worry, be happy, y’know?
I had the good fortune to find yoga at the age of 27 and the good sense to keep practising. I was good at the postures from the start. Most ex-gymnasts can do most yoga postures, it’s true. But, despite appearing to practise yoga, I wasn’t really. I was doing “yogâsana” – yoga postures – but my mind was everywhere but on the mat. Shopping lists…things to do…arguments unresolved…oh wait…time to breathe.
Only once I got in touch with my diaphragm and my breath did I develop the ability to be present in my practice. With presence comes concentration and with concentration, meditation. And with meditation, peace. Yes, dear readers. I no longer worry. Would you believe it possible? I would not have, if someone had told me just like that. But, yoga is an experiential science. The sutras say “here is the road, go walk it, see what you find.” No spoon feeding here.
Here’s the magic part. When we stop worrying, we become brave. You see, with inner stillness one finds one’s purpose. And with purpose, one finds one’s personal power. From frailty we grow resilient and we will take on all adversaries. This is not combat mode like in capitalist echelons and hierarchies. This is about your mission. I have this unshakable faith in humanity and my experience is that when people find their purpose, it is very often much more altruistic than anything they had done before. We become a kind of spiritual warrior.
So, worrier (->yoga)->warrior. Wanna join in?
Yoga classes for breast cancer patients and survivors
Hello warrior women…would you like to practice yoga? Tuesdays 16:00 – 17:15 in Altea (Garganes/Post Office).
