Here we are at the beginning of another new year. As a kid you hear adults droning on at the New Year about how quickly time passes, and not only is it boring, but it makes no sense. Number one, who’s paying attention to whether or not time is passing (get a life!). And number two, what makes adults think they have any say in how quickly or slowly something like time moves? Time is a given and youth is the opportunity to just try to squeeze as much life into it as you can. Maybe that’s why trends like seeing how many people could be stuffed into a phone booth are appealing—metaphors for life.
But for some of us, being older now, there’s only momentary appeal in the idea of squeezing into a phone booth. And every January it becomes increasingly difficult to resist the temptation to step back in awe and say, “Wow, another year! Where did that go? Time flies.”
After doing yoga for a while, you start to experience the fact that time clearly does fly when fifteen years later you’re still working on the Downward Dog. Since the distracted mind is exactly what the yoga is supposed to tame and counter, you’d think that the time-flying paradigm might shift for those of us who do practice regularly. But given the overall nature of mind—that it would much prefer to be distracted forever than spend even one second grounded in the present circumstance (unless, of course, the present moment includes a bar of chocolate)—even a yoga practice isn’t a guarantee of non-distraction.
Yoga can help us seek towards a state of being present enough to notice that another year rolled by, but more often than not, the yoga itself can become a distraction. One taproot of the distracted mind is when we don’t see things as they are. Instead of sticking with whatever is arising right before our eyes, we look for “reality” off to the side. Like in the Downward Dog. Instead of dropping into the breath, feelings, and sensations as they arise, informing us of the present experience, it’s just so much easier to call up the check list of correct shoulder action we heard about in class and get into an internal dialogue as to whether or not we’re working the rotations in the arms correctly. Even better is to forget the whole arm/shoulder thing and check out the guy on the mat next to us with the weird toes. Talk about distraction, yoga is a great source for that. And the years fly by.
Which brings us back to the present predicament: it’s another New Year and those familiar feelings of anticipation and optimism fueled by a sense of unlimited promise are starting to arise. Triumphs, tragedies, joys and mistakes of 2007 are fading—sliding out of mind—replaced by a crisp, tidy potential of mind. Like at the beginning of any new cycle, hope often far outweighs the prospect of disaster.
Then we do another Dog pose and—distracted by thoughts of the New Year—the mind is captured by something within the pose that pops up as clear, unobstructed perception. Any one of the infinite number of potential moments of awakening within the pose that have been patiently presenting themselves for years will do. It happens when we bump into an instant of transition at the top of the inhale, the grounding of the mound of the big toe, or the flash of a clear and steady gaze. During that transition we’re spontaneously absorbed into the present perception of whatever is arising. And just as fast, this “pure awareness” is gone again, as we congratulate ourselves for being so brilliant to have dropped into the present moment.
So here we are at the New Year. It’s a fine time to be astonished that time flies, but an even better time to check out a big fat public display of transition. It’s a time to remind ourselves that during these moments of transition (which actually present themselves every breath), if we can stay fully awake—just occasionally—we’re doing pretty well. But with the fast paced intensity of life these days (even in the slow lane called yoga), it’s difficult to maintain contact with what’s arising minute by minute.
This is essentially what Richard is taking the time to recapture during his month off from teaching. People always wonder what exactly he does when he’s not working. A friend of his son’s once posed the question, “Given that your dad relaxes for a living, what on earth does he do on vacation?” Good question.
Well, right now, he’s tapping back in; finding the breath, combing the nervous system, cultivating stillness. In fact, he’s doing it all so well that word has it Mattel is considering him the inspiration for it’s hot new toy which aims to replace GI Joe, Indiana Jones: The Richard Freeman Inaction Figure. It just lies there with a somewhat annoying “Mona Lisa smile” on its face. It keeps the smile until everyone in the room is still, and then it just lies there.
At the beginning of December, Richard gave the last in a series of Studio Talks on obstacles to yoga. This one was entitled “Deep Avoidance and Fear of Yoga” and is posted as an audio file along with this blog.
Obstacles to Yoga-Talk 05 - Deep Avoidance and Fear of Yoga [51:46m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (231)