Was Albert Einstein a Yogi?

image by FineArtAmerica.com

What do you think?  Does he look like a yogi?  Well, I've already blogged about it before, and we all know that looks can be deceiving.  But Einstein...?

In History and Philosophy, we have been reading and studying the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, which outline the Ashtanga, or "8-limbed" path of finding enlightenment.  The first 5 limbs are guidelines that help you to deal with the physical aspects of "being".  For example, they instruct on the importance of breathing, of relating to the world, of being yourself, of posture.  Isn't it interesting that Asana, or yoga postures, the thing we most associate with "Yoga", is only one limb on this path?  I've spent 10 weeks observing the Yamas and Niyamas, I've been doing Asana (oh BOY have I been doing asana!), I've been breathing, and I've been studying.  Now it's time to focus on the last 3 limbs.

The last 3 limbs are sequential, hierarchical.  They must be practiced in order:  you begin with concentration (Dharana).  Once you concentrate, you can start to meditate (Dhyana).  Only after you've established uninterrupted concentration, can you achieve the deep state of peace, knowledge, and inter-connectedness that is known as Samadhi.  What does this have to do with Einstein?

In class this week, our teacher used him as an example of Samadhi, because he became "one" with his complete and total knowledge of the atom.  As a science teacher (but not a physicist), this was a "WOW" moment for me.  I agreed - he was someone, if there ever was anyone, who was completely absorbed in the knowledge of particle physics.  I understood exactly what she meant - that he had such a deep state of knowledge about something that he was Samadhi...but his area of knowledge is about the universe, so this suggests that he was one with the universe.  That's pretty darn mind-blowing.

This, of course, begged my question about whether or not he himself identified with and attributed his knowledge and experience to a yoga practice. I emailed my teacher, and she succinctly said "No.", but the thought of it tickled me.  Some beings who achieve Samadhi are so enlightened that they leave their human forms permanently.  Others dip in and out, and continue to interact among those of us who are "lesser" forms of ourselves.  We might call them "Gurus".  Seeking them out and trying to learn from them is where the devotion to a guru comes from, but ultimately, it's something you need to work on by yourself.  Concentrate, meditate, and experience Samadhi.

Was Einstein "Om-ing" away on his tuffet, concentrating on atoms, coming up with E=mc2?  Was he the guru to budding astro-physicists? Who knows.  Let's just say that not much surprises me these days.  Too bad he's not around anymore to ask.  Maybe he's left his human form, and is out there enjoying Samadhi.

"Everything which is really great and inspiring is created by the individual who can labour in freedom" - Albert Einstein

And back to our regularly scheduled program...

For many of us in the Northeast, today we are coming off of a week-long school vacation, typically known as "Mud Week".  Lots of folks leave town in search of warmer climes.  Lots of other folks leave town in search of fresh powder for downhill skiing.  And still lots of people (like me!) stick around in search of the chance to recuperate from the busy-ness of a daily routine. (but then end up catching up with all of your friends and late bedtimes ensue, resulting in even less recuperation and more need for it!)

It was a good break.  We did a little Skiing, a little skating, a little hair-cutting, a fair amount of staying up past bedtime, and a LOT of yoga.  When I look at my class log, it's starting to seem as though I might finish all of the required classes some day;  I'm making progress...

However, with just 2 1/2 months left in my training program, there are some mixed feelings coming to the surface.  There's the feeling of accomplishment, that this journey is coming to a crossroads.  I don't want to say "ending", because if there's one thing I can take away from this entire process, it's that the journey is never complete.  We are just approaching a new path on the journey, and it's up to me to make a decision on how to continue.  One thing is certain, and that's that I've grown and experienced so much more than I ever could have imagined when I began the teacher training.

There is also a feeling of sadness that this part of the journey is ending, though.  My weekly routine of going to "Yoga School" is going to change.  One of these days I'm going to be finished with all of my reading and writing "assignments".  I'll be able to go back to reading for pleasure.  That's not to say that I don't enjoy what I'm reading...but it's just not as pleasurable when you have to get through so many pages by a certain date.  Then there's the writing - I haven't written a book report in years, and I'm faced with the prospect of writing not one, but THREE of them in the next two and half months (and this means I have to read the books that go with them.  These are not your Grisham quick-reads, either.  They're heavy-duty yoga philosophy texts).  I'll be relieved when they are done, but I think I might actually miss the presence of an assignment to do.

Finally, there's the feeling of fear - fearing the unknown, and what's "next".  How do I market myself as a yoga instructor?  Do I even want to take that step?  If I get a job, how is this new pattern going to affect my "free time"?  Will people even like taking class from me?  There's a lot of unknown out there...

I suppose it's time to apply what I've learned from all this reading, and that's to remember to be here now.  Be present.  What's finished is past and what will be is not a certainty.  The only thing is to take each moment as it comes (remembering to fully appreciate each moment as a gift!), and b-r-e-a-t-h-e.
...and now back to our regularly scheduled Monday...

What is all this Universe, this life, birth, death?  What is the purpose of all this?  What is at the bottom of all this?  What is the goal of all these activities?  Remain in these questions for as long as you can, remain longer and longer, you will know the Truth...which state is the natural desire of everybody in unclouded moments. - Shivapuri Baba

It is what it is.

This week, as I contemplate
the Niyama "Isvara Pranidhana",
the phrase "It is what it is" takes on a new meaning for me.

Last week, I was contemplating Patanjali's Sutra 2.44, which is about Svadhyaya (pronounced Svad-i-a-ya), or studying so you can commune with your "chosen deity".  Boy, do I know a thing or two about studying...I've been studying Anatomy and Physiology (98 on that test, thankyouverymuch), I've been studying History and Philosophy (95 on that test, thanksagain), and I've been studying my posture and alignment whenever I'm on the mat.  One thing I have to say about embarking on this path to become a yoga teacher is that after 8 years of regular yoga practice, I feel like I don't know anything about yoga.
I mean, I can recite the 8 Limbs of Patanjali's path to Ashtanga Yoga; I can tell you the names of postures in Sanskrit; I can tell you who teaches the weekend level 1 class at my teacher training studio.  But communing with God?  I'm not quite there yet.  It appears that I just need to study some more, and if I stick with it, eventually, the "form will appear - as a human form, a light, or a sound."  Intriguing.

This week, I'm working on Isvara Pranidhana, or "total surrender to God".  I wasn't quite sure how to approach the study of this, so I sought out other translations of the sutra, because, afterall, I mess up subtleties in Facebook posts written in the English language - who's to say there aren't subtleties in Patanjali's Sanskrit?

What I found was that Isvara Pranidhana is about acknowledging that there is a larger reality that we cannot control or know.  "Surrendering" to this idea doesn't necessarily mean "giving up"/ "waving the white flag".  It means opening up - allowing yourself to witness the grace and beauty of a moment without needing to know what it's all about, without needing to control the process, without feeling attached to the outcome.  It's about the ultimate:  Living in the present, witnessing and acknowledging God's grace because "it is what it is".

A few weeks ago, I was talking on the phone with my mom, and she was really unhappy with the way things had turned out in a situation at work.  She kept repeating over and over, almost like a mantra, "It is what it is."  Her tone was one of great disappointment, defeat, almost.  Perhaps a little letting go of the ego, perhaps moving the energy up a few notches away from the Manipura (power Chakra) and into the Anahata (heart Chakra), would have opened the possibility that there is some mystery to the way things work and why things happen a certain way.  We don't have to give up, but we can observe, experience, and move on with fluidity, grace, and tranquility.

So, it may be "what it is", and it doesn't have to be disappointing.  It reminds us to "Be Here Now", experiencing the world and processing all it has to offer.  Offering up or "surrendering" these moments can open the possibility of Samadhi.   I think it takes a special kind of humility and courage to do it, and I have a lot more studying to do before I get there.

"Niyama consists of purity (saucha), contentment (samtosha), acceptance (tapas), study of spiritual books (svahdyaya) and self-surrender (isvarapranidhana)" - Patanjali's Yoga Sutra 2.32

How Austere can I be?

Hey, look, it's Jennifer Aniston
practicing Tapas!

This week's Niyama, or "observance", is Tapas.  Tapas means observing Austerity and Discipline.  Just how austere can I be? Well, it turns out, not very austere at all, but I gave it a try anyway...

It seems that there are some pretty badass ways to observe “Austerity”.  Some people go barefoot for a period of time (not so easy to do in wintertime!).  Some people refrain from talking for a period of time (not so easy to do when you’re a teacher!).  Some people decide to eat simple, easily-digested food (which also happens to be pretty bland).  In fact, a great number of austerity tactics centered around food and diet, so I chose to utilize a little more discipline with my eating habits this week (ha ha ha!  "disciplined" eating during a week where I had dinner and drinks out with friends, and a huge Chinese New Year's eve dinner party planned)

I am a huge multi-tasker, and one of the things that I’ve become accustomed to is reading while eating.  In the morning, I read the paper during breakfast. At lunch, I’m usually reading students’ papers or our mail.  At dinner, I read other things like magazines, catalogs, even books.  My mind isn’t concentrating on the quantity or quality of the food I’m eating (no wonder I'm having trouble losing weight).  Eating almost becomes mindless, because my mind is focused on something else.  Not only that, it's incredibly RUDE.  I’m not enjoying my dinner company or joining in with friendly dinner-table conversation.  Am I a dysfunctional eater?  I need more discipline, and decided that this would be an appropriate step in the right direction.

This act of treating meal-time with more discipline has not been easy; at every meal I had to consciously remove reading material from the table before I sat down to eat.  Sometimes, I caught myself reaching for  some reading material when I was having a snack.  It turns out, this is a terrible, deeply-ingrained habit I'm dealing with.  When I sit down to eat, I start reading without even realizing what I'm doing.  I need to snap out of it, and with discipline.  As the week draws to a close, this is one of those austerities that I need to continue to attend to.  Once I get used to this simple austerity, perhaps I can work on more serious ones.  

"The ultimate practice of Tapas:  Love yourself and your life exactly as it IS.  Change nothing, but live with more presence and consistency." - Gaia Flow Yoga

Santosha FAIL

Contentment.  Serenity. Feeling positive.  "Santosha" embodies all of these things, and I haven't scratched the surface in observing them this week.  In fact, I've been in an awful mood, and disgruntled and dissatisfied with everything.  Epic FAIL on my observance of the Niyamas.

Yesterday was Monday, and I felt like I was fairly disciplined over the weekend (I did yoga, I studied for my History and Philosophy test on Wednesday, I graded my students' labs & tests, I even went to church!), but I stepped on the scale and started the day "up" a pound.  (Another pound, I should add, because I've just added on pound by pound, and at this point, my clothes are starting to not fit.  Not cool.  THAT is a problem because I like my clothes, and I can't afford to buy new ones!).  I could have avoided my bad mood by not stepping on the scale, I suppose, but that would have been dishonest.  I "accepted" my number, stepped off the scale, and pledged to be more mindful with regards to diet and exercise.

I showed up to school, and not one student in my 1st period class had done their reading assignment over the weekend.  This was frustrating, because I had spent a good deal of time over the weekend grading their tests and labs, and they couldn't be bothered to read an article on Human Growth Hormones.  I could have avoided my bad mood by not assigning weekend homework, I suppose.  I "accepted" their inability to discuss the article, and re-assigned it for the next day.

I returned home from work to a delicious smell - my husband had cooked a huge pot of gumbo for dinner.  Immediately my mind focused on my diet, knowing that gumbo has sausage which isn't very healthy, and I worried about the scale again.  I "accepted" that dinner was made, and ran out to run an errand.
Later, I came home just in time for dinner to be served, and instead of finding serenity in the fact that I didn't need to worry one single bit about shopping for ingredients, I didn't need to cook the meal, I didn't even need to clean up the prep for the meal, I focused on what wasn't done - things like the kids' backpacks being "unpacked", the homework papers still scattered on the table, legos that were all over the floor.

I wasn't content, even though I had so much to feel positive about, so much to be grateful and thankful for.  I'm ashamed of myself, especially since this is a week where I am supposed to be seeking contentment, observing Santosha.  I owed my husband a HUGE apology this morning - whether or not he "accepted" it is another matter; I wouldn't blame him if he didn't!  I owe myself a "re-do", and I need to re-evaluate my ability to find "contentment".

Good thing tomorrow is another day!

Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.” 
― Lao Tzu

The Niyamas

Patanjali, in his Yoga Sutras, sets forth 8 limbs to follow on the path to "Kingly" Yoga practice.  Yes, dear readers, it's a "path", which means there are lots of things to observe along your journey.  And, if you're the impatient type, I hate to break it to you, the journey never ends.  Each step you take creates another foot on the path.
For the last 5 weeks, I have been "restraining" myself.  That's what the Yamas (see lower left arm on the diagram) are all about - restraint.  The world comes at you from all directions on your journey, and you need to restrain yourself:  don't harm, don't lie, don't steal, don't lust, and don't hoard.  For the next 5 weeks, I'm going to be "observing" myself, as dictated by the Niyamas (see 2nd lower left arm on the diagram).
First up?  Saucha.  Cleanliness, purity.  Well, I took a bath each day this week, so I'm off to a good start!  If only it were so simple.  No one said the journey would be easy...

"Niyama consists of purity, contentment, accepting but not causing pain, study of spiritual books, and worship of God" - Patanjali, Yoga Sutra 2.32

Aparigraha

Well, here we are, my 5th and final week of "self-restraint", and I've come to the Yama "aparigraha".  I've not harmed, I've not lied, I've not stolen, and I've not lusted.  What am I up against this week?  Not hoarding!  This is going to be the best Yama yet!

I already started the non-hoarding this morning, by putting out some old furniture that had been languishing in our basement for about a year.  I gathered up and bagged some of the boys' out-grown clothing for donation.  When I went grocery shopping this week, I was very conscious about my purchases - even if things were on sale, I only bought exactly what I needed for the week (I can't say the same for Husband, who was sent to make a return and came home with what seemed like 5 boxes of Reese's Puffs).  What my thoughts turn to is where does this tendency to hoard things come from?

I think about my mother's pantry, filled with long-expired cake mix, canned soups, quinoa from before quinoa was cool, jars of mayo and boxes of breadcrumbs.  She keeps a deep freezer stocked with meat, frozen "fresh" pasta, LouieBloo Raspberry Otter Pops from 1985, and various bags of veggies, now probably gray with freezer burn.  My siblings and I joke that she could feel a small developing nation for a week - and it's just her and my dad living at home. PS, even with that much food, she still goes grocery shopping at BJs every week.  Did I mention there are only 2 people living in their house?

 I think about my husband's parents, and their TWO closets filled with old school papers, CDs and boyhood trinkets from when my husband was last living at home.  Every time my in-laws visit, they bring one whole suitcase filled with both food packets, "In case you can't buy cooking sauce here", and stuff from 1979, including my husband's "Star Wars" doodlings.  Don't worry, though...they shop the entire time they are here, so that suitcase just gets filled back up again with stuff for them to take home with them.  PS, when I get the urge to throw the frayed, yellowing pages of old schoolwork away, my husband is right there, saying, "Just hold on to it...I'll find a place for it"

Do we, as human beings in this great land of plenty known as America, have a fear of missing out?  Are we concerned that we might not get our "fair share"?  Are we worried that things we desire may never go on sale, ever again?  Are we fearful that we might forget a stage of our lives if we don't have a tangible reminder of what we did and created back then?

Do we really need this much?  It's almost gross, our over-consumption, our dependency on Warehouse stores because we live in huge homes and need to fill them with things, including a gallon of ketchup in case there's ever a shortage of high-fructose corn syrup-filled tomato sauce.  We have so many kids who do so many activities that we "need" to buy SUVs ("oh, but it's considered a mid-size.  It's not really that big...") with 15mpg gigantic tanks that need filling, so we end up hoarding gas, too.  But how much do we really need to make us happy?

Ultimately, I think it has to be this pursuit of happiness that is causing all this hoarding.  I mean, it's written into our constitution, isn't it?  Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.  But when did the pursuit of Happiness translate into the acquisition of "things"?  And with all of the "things" that we have, how many of us are truly happy?  There's always more to have, so we work ever harder to hoard more money so we can afford to buy bigger houses and bigger cars so we can fill them with more things and more kids and more, more, more.

Aparigraha means "less".  It means, take a look around you, and let go of things.  When you let go, you can begin to find contentment.  This is not easy.  It will probably cause me pain.  I've been lying to myself, telling myself that I need all of this to feel happy.  Perhaps I've been stealing happiness from others because I'm unhappy with less.  I may find myself lusting after "more"... I need to let it go.  Don't hoard.  Find happiness in just being.

"By the observance of aparigraha, the yogi makes his life as simple as possible and trains his mind not to feel the loss or lack of anything.  Then everything he really needs will come to him by itself at the proper time." - B.K.S. Iyengar, Light on Yoga