1. We are always capable of more than we think we are.
2. We think we know a lot but we do this to protect ourselves from feeling so little control over all the things we don’t know.
3. Living by a set of ethical guidelines reduces suffering exponentially.
4. When relating with others, especially during challenging times, it’s effective to imagine what it’s like to be that person (accompanied by the understanding that we’ll never really know what it’s like to be someone else).
5. Mick Jagger was right. You can’t always get what you want but you get what you need.
6. It’s easy to get lost in thinking about things that don’t matter very much.
7. Doing drugs is generally a bad idea.
8. Making the world a better place is a game worth playing while we are here.
9. To bring your full attention to life, get yourself uncomfortable.
10. In the end no one much cares what you really do. You are the one that has to live with your choices.
11. As my son says, “there is always a reason to smile.”
12. Parenting is the high stakes challenge of constantly being present, over and over and over again.
13. Linking the movement of the body with the mind and the breath creates clarity and calm.
14. Special people come into our lives that are catalysts in our growth. When someone comes along and rocks our world, this is a great gift. Pay attention and remain open.
15. Memory is selective. Our relationship with the past is a story we tell ourselves based on beliefs we have about life and who we think we are.
16. The most powerful and transforming moments in life are often those that come unplanned. Courage is required to resist the temptation to control things.
17. We have a temper and mastery is the ability to not lose it. There are people who come into our lives to test our progress.
18. Doing something that tests what you believe you are capable of on a regular basis is a good idea.
19. Being open to the adventure makes the ride a great deal more exciting.
20. Trying to change someone else won’t work.
21. The mind is mostly a rabid hamster that repeats thoughts that originated from stories from the past and then forgets that that is what it’s doing.
22. Time practicing being present every day is essential to remembering that we are largely, not our thoughts.
23. Pay attention to how you breathe and you will learn more about how you feel.
24. Forgiveness is necessary, especially of our parents.
25. “Question Authority” and “Defy Authority” are not the same thing.
26. The most valuable things in life are those things we that we can’t see. Like peace. And love.
27. You will feel happier and healthier when you do things that make other people happy often.
28. Roll with it. There is an opportunity in everything.
29. Belief is highly over rated. Find out for yourself.
30. “Trust your gut” and “listen to your heart” are overused but useful phrases. Our body knows.
31. The definition of beauty should evolve as we get older in order to reduce suffering.
32. Although generally letting go is often not very fun, there is great power in it.
33. We are each a tiny eco-system. We are stewards of our own health and happiness and we each must learn about the mental, physical and emotional climate we each need to thrive.
34. Think, speak and act as though your mother or God were watching.
35. One’s “truth” is best delivered with compassion.
36. Giving yourself fully to everything you do makes you feel good.
37. Remembering on a very regular basis that we are going to die keeps our priorities straight.
38. There is always a reason to be thankful.
39. The gifts that we were given were meant to be given away.

There is a large element of chance in creativity, but it is most likely to occur if the mind is prepared for it. These suggestions help prime the mind for creative output:

Document your ideas. Ideas are thoughts and thoughts are fleeting. You can’t begin to imagine how many good ideas you have until you document them.

Carve out a creative space. Set up an environment that invites creativity. Look for objects and images that inspire you.

Participate in physical activity to give the mind a rest and time for the subconscious to digest information.

Develop a variety of different interests away from your normal sphere of activity. It is a common trait of creative people that they are interested in a wide variety of subjects.

Don’t be afraid of failing with any given avenue of exploration. Every thought or attempt can lead to a new idea or new possibility.

Brainstorm ideas. Be open to many avenues of solution. Exhaust all possibilities by coming up with many ways of solving a problem. Then choose the best one.

Flood yourself with information in your chosen area of creativity. Deliberately expose yourself to information outside your area.

Play. Researchers have found that children who are good at using their imagination during creative play were better able to cope with stress later in life. The processes “that occur in pretend play are important processes because they relate to adaptive functioning in children. Spend time with children.

Travel. One key to creative living is to view life from a new perspective. Every culture provides a unique way of looking at common situations and solving common problems. Take photographs, keep a diary as you travel.

Practice independent thinking. The more you depend on your own ability to think, the more proficient you will become at thinking of new ideas.

Look for people who are fun to talk and are interested in life.

Listen to music.  An audio environment can be conducive to new ideas. Experiment with different musical styles to see what works best.

Respect and care for your creativity as you would a child. Attend to your needs, listen to your creative inner voice, spend time with yourself.

I just got back from a road trip to UCSB to see the Dalai Lama. The morning lecture was titled, “The Nature of the Mind,” and after it was all said and done it was essentially it was about the importance of practicing lengthening the space between thoughts, through meditation. By training the mind to appreciate emptiness we re-cognize that our thoughts that we hold so dear, as if they are who we are, become thoughts again and not who we are.

The afternoon was relaxed. He began by talking about the world. And in regards to the state of the world right now, he said “The concept of we and they is no longer relevant.” He talked about the importance of human affection and how that all begins with our mothers. He said that turtles and butterflies are not dependent on their mother’s care for living a healthy well adjusted life later on. Human beings on the other hand must have affection. He said, “We all come from our mother.” For those whose upbringing was smooth, it is much easier to show affection to others.”  If there has been physical abuse or an absence of mothers care, it is more difficult. He said, “My mother’s kindness spoiled me.” And he told a story about how he would ride on her shoulders and he would grab her ears and steer her as if she was a horse. He said, “Affection brings energy, energy brings action. Mothers sacrifice for the sake of their children.”

He answered questions that had been written to him on line. Someone had a question about how to be a committed practitioner filled with clarity and positive thoughts but was in a relationship with someone who was exactly the opposite. He said seek companionship with people who share the same kind of commitments. He said, “Your spouse is your teacher,” and then laughed….and he said “assuming they are a good person.”

A woman wrote him who said her son was in the audience and he wanted to know if they would be able to find eachother again after they died. He said he didn’t know. He said he wondered if he would ever see his mother again. He said, “Some people think I have healing power.” Since I have had my gallbladder out, if I had healing power, surgery was not necessary.”

He said that transforming emotional reactions takes time. We are like flowers, meaning, growth is slow going. If observing your own mind there is a greater tendency toward grasping onto the permanent, reflect on the intransience of life. He said that if you don’t take your time seriously; reflect on the preciousness of time He said that if you find yourself grasping your own ego, reduce your strong grip on the ego.

He said that when your immune system is strong, you are less likely to be disturbed by viruses, but if your basic mental attitude is weak, tiny problems bring stress.

He said there are three kinds of suffering: The suffering of change, the suffering of suffering and the suffering of conditioning. He said that if we understand these three things, there will be no surprises.

He said that each stage of life has its own beauty. When we are very young we don’t know how to tell a lie. As we become older we become more independent. He said in relation to death, when people have found that they are old, to take the grateful attitude of being fortunate to have lived so long. He said that every phase of life has drawbacks… and finally we have to go. His words were easy and graceful, just a statement of fact. Compassionate.

He said that those that believe in karma generally have an easier time with hardship because they accept what happens as their karma, there is less agitation, less anger. He said in relationship to dealing with problems even an atheist can have a very effective approach. If there is a solution to a particular problem there is no need to worry about that problem. If there is no solution, then there is no point in worrying about it either. When faced with a problem it is common to look at that problem from only one angle. Rather look at it from different angles. He said, “Each of us has problems. There is no one in the room that didn’t have problems. When we look at a problem from various angles, the mind opens up.

Yoga contains a densely rich philosophy that is traditionally recognized as being most successfully transmitted from guru to student. I did not come to yoga from a road out of India. I was raised in Marin County, in Northern California in the sixties and seventies in a place where free love, drug use, and the personal growth movement were in full force. What I have learned through nearly twenties years on and off the mat is what has been stated by a variety of spiritual traditions: everyone and everything that happens is an opportunity for learning and ‘ultimately one’s greatest teacher lies within.’

The history of yoga points to its share of authoritarian dogma generated mostly by men for men. And that still remains true today. There are no shortage of styles of yoga that dictate “this is the way and no other.” In the beginning (and the beginning lasts a good long time)  a set of guidelines and a good teacher is essential so we can build a life practice on a strong foundation. The venerable Zen teacher Suzuki Roshi once explained: “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind there are few.” When you are first undertaking to learn anything new, be a beginner, empty your mind of answers, and learn to live and love the questions for the rest of your life. Through inquiry and exploration you begin to hear and feel in your body what is true.

Mastery of any art form requires obtaining technical knowledge and once a certain level of mastery is obtained, what is required is the ability to transcend technique. In Zen Archery, an instructor teaches a person to hold a bow, notch an arrow, and pull and release it toward a target. The Master demonstrates, students imitate and the master then watches the student practice and gives more demonstration. After the student learns basic techniques, the student settles into the tension of the bow and string waiting for the shot to take itself. If the “I’ is removed, the shot occurs on its own. During periods of training much emphasis is placed on proper breathing and the release of desire and ego. After months or years of practice, the actions of the art are so familiar that the student becomes aware of the inner meaning of the actions. The final step in Zen archery is to remove the “I” altogether so that only the shot remains. This is so with one’s yoga practice. With practice the teachings become embodied. Your practice itself reflects what you have learned from the inside out.

It may take months or years to know where your limbs are in a standing posture, to know how the back foot needs to sit to draw up strength from the ground, how the bandhas should be engaged or how the breath is best utilized in any given posture. Socrates recognized that there was an inner voice that guided his actions and that what he needed to do was learn to listen. Learning to listen, observe and interpret with discernment are the essential faculties we develop as a result of sustained practice. The Buddha said, “Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything simply on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find anything that agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”

In Zen there is the term, ‘Kufu,’ which means naturalness in bodily action, which comes about when the mind allows the body the full harmony of its own coordination by not concentrating on a particular part of the body. After taking the pose for the thousandth and some times, there may come a point when the body knows and the mind watches the body enter the posture and the mind watches the rooting downward and the extension simultaneously, observes the breath, notice the thoughts that are there and releases them, is able to sustain an effortless and yet concentrated state for a good long time.

The Zen Monk Issho Fujita said, “There is no perfect teacher. The point is to make a sincere effort to become a perfect student of an imperfect teacher.” It is my belief that a good teacher is also always a student. And as the student progresses the role of the teacher will change from being an authority to being a colleague, friend or at the very most, a guide. Over time the practice itself becomes the teacher. As a student, I haven’t had the opportunity to sit at the feet of perfection. Every teacher I have had has taken me to places in myself that I don’t know how I would have found on my own. All of them have also been human. The traditional guru/student orally transmitted relationship is evolving right along side yoga. Everyone and everything is ultimately a teacher. The role of the teacher is ultimately to assist the student in learning how to look within in order to become their own teacher.

No one behind, no one ahead.
The path the ancients cleared has closed.
And the other path, everyone’s path,
Easy and wide, goes nowhere.
I am alone and I find my way.
– Octavio Paz From a Tale of Two Gardens 1996

‘Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action.’ If you attend my classes regularly, this is a phrase that many of us have become accustomed to. I began saying it at the end of every class after hearing one of my teachers say it a number of years ago, but I wanted to know where it came from if I was going to use it all of the time, so I did a little research.

‘Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action’ is a simplified way of referring to the Buddhist Noble Eightfold Path, a practical guideline for ethical and mental development designed to free us from attachments and delusions, eventually leading to an understanding of the truth about all things. It is in everybody’s interest to seek actions that lead to happiness and avoid those which lead to suffering. I am passing this longer version onto you now because the eight fold path, like any great spiritual or religious path gives us the chance to reflect upon our own lives. Since many of us do this at this time of year, we can use this information as a tool to look at where we can continually focus our energies to become more effective at sharing our innate gifts with the world, which is how personal health and happiness are sustained.

The eight principles are interdependent and should be seen in relationship with each other as opposed to having a specific order. The first four principles relate to Right Thought. If four of the eight principles relate to right thought, it’s probably pretty obvious that what we do with our minds is essential to living a joyful and meaningful life.

‘Right Mindfulness’ is the mental ability to see things as they are, with clarity. Usually, the cognitive process begins with an impression induced by perception, or by a thought, but then we interpret them and set them in relation to other prior thoughts and experiences, which naturally go beyond the facts of the original impression. This process happens half consciously, and as a result we often see things obscured. Right mindfulness enables us to be aware of the process of conceptualization in a way that we actively observe and eventually control the course of our thoughts.

‘Right Concentration’ is described as one-pointed mind, meaning a state where all mental faculties are directed onto one particular object. Right concentration for the purpose of the eightfold path means concentration on wholesome thoughts and actions. The Buddhist method of choice to develop right concentration is through the practice of meditation. The meditating mind focuses on a selected object. It first directs itself onto it, then sustains concentration, and finally intensifies concentration step by step. Through this practice it becomes natural to apply elevated levels of concentration in everyday situations.

‘Right View’ means to see things through, to grasp the impermanent and imperfect nature of worldly objects and ideas. Right view begins with the insight that all beings are subject to suffering – something essential to come to terms with — and it ends with complete understanding of the true nature of all things.

‘Right Intention’ can be described best as a commitment to ethical and mental self-improvement. Buddha distinguishes three types of right intentions, the intention of renunciation, which means resistance to the pull of desire, the intention of good will, meaning resistance to feelings of anger and aversion, and the intention of harmlessness, meaning not to think or act cruelly, violently, or aggressively, and to develop compassion.

This next principle alone, if practiced diligently for a year, could transform a life!

Right speech is the first principle of ethical conduct in the eightfold path. A pure mind can only be achieved through the cultivation of ethical conduct. Words can break or save lives, make friends or enemies, start war or create peace. Buddha explained right speech as the ability to abstain from false speech, especially not to tell deliberate lies and not to speak deceitfully, to abstain from slanderous speech and not to use words maliciously against others, to abstain from harsh words that offend or hurt others, and to abstain from idle chatter that lacks purpose or depth. Positively phrased, this means to tell the truth, to speak friendly, warm, and gently and to talk only when necessary.

Right Action includes not only the principle of Right Action, but also Right Livelihood and Right Effort. ‘Right Effort’ can be seen as a prerequisite for the other principles behind Right Action. Without effort, which is in itself an act of will, nothing can be accomplished. The same type of energy that fuels desire, envy, aggression, and violence can on the other side fuel self-discipline, honesty, benevolence, and kindness. Right effort is detailed in four types of endeavors that rank in ascending order of perfection, to prevent the arising of unwholesome states, to abandon unwholesome states that have already arisen, to arouse wholesome states that have not yet arisen, and to maintain and perfect wholesome states already arisen.

‘Right Livelihood’ means that one should earn one’s living in a righteous way and that wealth should be gained legally and peacefully. The Buddha mentions four specific activities that harm other beings and that one should avoid for this reasons, dealing in weapons, dealing in living beings (including raising animals for slaughter as well as slave trade and prostitution), working in meat production and butchery, and selling intoxicants and poisons, such as alcohol and drugs. In other words our work in the world should contribute to rather than harm others.

And finally, ‘Right Action’ involves the body as a natural means of expression, as it refers to deeds that involve bodily actions. Unwholesome actions lead to unsound states of mind, while wholesome actions lead to sound states of mind. Right action means to abstain from harming sentient beings, especially to abstain from taking life and doing harm intentionally or delinquently, to abstain from taking what is not given, which includes stealing, robbery, fraud, deceitfulness, and dishonesty, and to abstain from sexual misconduct. Positively formulated, right action means to act kindly and compassionately, to be honest, to respect the belongings of others, and to keep sexual relationships harmless to others.

In June I went to Santa Fe New Mexico, the place I go alone once a year for the last twenty years to return to my soul. It just so happened that my closest friend for 20 years had a partner whose body finally gave up in a third round of Lymphoma. He was a consultant to large corporations and the state of New Mexico and ironically, a Tibetan Buddhist. I joined a group of loved ones in a five day vigil at the hospital.
Often when one gets close to death the body is in this chaotic lethargy, while the mind becomes, for lack of a better term, almost bright. Robert woke up the night I arrived and with big eyes excitedly asked “Hey Jennifer, How is your Life?” And if there was anything going on for me (and there is always something), it was nothing. My life was no less than fantastic and there was nothing else to report. Except I told him about the monks coming and the trip to India in March. And he paused for a while… and then asked if I would take his ashes to India to leave them at the auspicious places where the Buddha spent his time.

Often when people are dying there is a struggle to leave the body. But Robert had a strong spiritual practice for many years. He valiantly fought lymphoma for many years as well. But when hearing that this time it was time to go, he embraced his transition fully in a very rare way. That experience gave a new way of looking at how I would want to exit my body, assuming I have the privilege of knowing when its time. He was so gracious about it.

In our yoga practice we realize how heavily we identify with the body. One of the benefits of continued practice is the growing experience of feeling our own energy housed in this great vehicle of our body. Robert’s passing gave me the opportunity of seeing ‘shavasana’ done exactly as it is meant to be done. At the end of our practice, or our life, we lay down the body and open our hearts out to the invisible. So brave and so complete, he took it on so fully, like a great athlete who just gives him or herself to the moment. This practice of ‘shavasana’ is meant to be done every day as a reminder of how to give ourselves over to everything.

While the trip to Santa Fe was by no means a traditional vacation, it did reacquaint me with my soul. The soul that knows that we often forget that sacred event called our lives won’t last forever. And so here I am again at a newsletter saying the same thing I always say with renewed clarity and calm fervor: Life is short, life is precious.

As a result, I conceived yoga retreats to Italy last June and Bali last month while joining my first teacher, Sherri Baptiste’s journey through India last October (www.powerofyoga.com).

I have recently concluded my own journey to these three countries in the last nine months and this is my report:

In Italy I learned that if you eat Gelato nearly every day, it doesn’t taste as good as the first day you ate it. There is a fine line where one’s senses are numbed and the brain begins looking for more, more, more, more to attain the same level of pleasure. After studying art history for eight years, actually seeing the famous architecture was anti-climactic in comparison with finding what I didn’t expect: a playground at dusk in Rome where children from all parts of the world were playing, a very very, very old lady filled with the Holy Spirit who took my mom’s hand in a cathedral in Rome, reminding us through a simple gesture that there is always a way to be happy even if you can barely walk anymore. Italy’s two great teachings for me were, 1) moderation of sensory enjoyment produces greater sensory enjoyment and 2) trust your journey to take you places both outside yourself and inside yourself that you would have never found on your own.

In India I learned that it’s worth the risk of all the bad things that could happen to you to go there, the main reason that keeps most people from going. There is an uncanny order that resides beneath the phenomenal chaos and you can appreciate it once you have submitted yourself to it. There is beauty everywhere, but not the kind of beauty we are accustomed to. It consumes you with the mystery of life and makes you realize just how much stuff you think about doesn’t really matter. The big lessons, 1) thanking the God of your own understanding every morning and every night keeps what is important at the forefront of your mind and heart and 2) it is possible to be truly and consistently happy with a great, great great, great deal less.

In Bali I never met anyone that wasn’t genuinely happy, not the “I’ll be happy when I get this next thing or things go the way I want them to” kind of happiness but just enjoying being. Much of their lives revolve around being together, having festivals, and honoring their Gods. The women in Bali create thirty offerings a day. An offering consists of a box made of palm leaves and flowers and incense. Offerings are placed in front of every home or in the corners of homes, on what we would call altars set up throughout villages and cities, three times a day. There are prayers said and incense is lit. I was driving on a motorcycle around a small island beside Bali and came upon a festival of hundreds of women and children celebrating the trees and plants that provided food for them to eat. Taking time out to thank the trees. I learned that 1) its possible to just be and 2) inherent in just being is love. Not the kind of pining ‘if I don’t’ have him I’ll die sort of love,’ but the calm peaceful state of love that is inherent in every breath we take.

Italy, India and Bali all have tangible devotion woven throughout the fabric of their culture. While traveling I read “The Geography of Bliss,” which was written by Eric Weiner, an NPR reporter who went to about nine countries known to be the happiest countries on earth to find out why each is so happy. In every country it was something different. In the process of his journey he discovered that the human brain manages to always focus on some source of distress. It’s just what we do. For example, in every language there are many more adjectives to describe unhappiness than happiness. The advantage of cultures of affluence where so much of our life threatening distresses have been alleviated is we are comfortable. The disadvantage is that we have the luxury of creating problems that seem significant but aren’t. In America we live in a culture that is dedicated to the ‘pursuit of happiness,’ assuming then that it’s something we find out there eventually, if we are hard working and lucky. In the yoga tradition contentment is a quality that one commits to being at all times under all circumstances, learning to observe the mind, replacing thoughts that are destructive with thoughts that are constructive in order to find peace with everything that is happening in life, even when it didn’t go the way the mind thought it wanted it to.

We don’t have a Ganges, and we don’t have little offerings to make every day together as a culture. But we do have a river of real people who are really struggling and when we give ourselves in whatever capacity we can to them, all our own little problems become less significant. A recent Japanese study proved the physical and emotional benefits of giving to others in order to alleviate or own unhappiness. We can make invisible offerings often in the form of random acts of kindness that cost us nothing but the joy of making someone else’s life a little easier. Buddha said, “No self, no problem.” It’s hard to remember that we are specks of dust floating in the universe and frankly who wants to be reminded? But holding the big picture close is essential. Nothing remains but gratitude and awe.

Jennifer

A collection of photographs from all three trips have been posted through my Facebook account.

Over the weekend my husband Will and I celebrated our wedding anniversary by driving south on highway one and having lunch on the edge of the Big Sur coast overlooking the ocean. I’m telling him about a review I read of a book by anthropologist, Helen Fisher on the origin of romantic love. She states that falling in love comes down to three chemicals that produce the feeling of euphoria that lasts on average between twelve and eighteen months. But according to the reviews, this book does little to describe how one person might spark this reaction in another. We discuss why it is that some people become so captivating, while others create no response at all. Will begins talking about the neural pathways of the brain. As a baby all of our pathways were wide open. In other words, anything is possible at the beginning of our lives. As we are introduced to a variety of stimulus, we form habits in our way of thinking and behavior. And of course, as all pathways in my brain lead back to yoga, I relate what he is saying to Sankya yoga philosophy which states that the body and mind are a series of habits. Some are useful, some not. We replace habits that are more appropriate to the moment for those that no longer serve us. When we are little, everything that happens significantly affects the size of those neural pathways. As we get older, the pathways are less affected. This is why repetition becomes so important when we are creating a new habit, because it takes longer for a neural pathway to change its strength than it once did. In yoga we call it ‘practice.’ 

Will works from our basement as a creative director of a video game company. He is brilliant, strong and humble. He knows who he is and knows who and what he loves. He is at the bottom of Generation X, but he would say that he is aging rapidly being with me. Yoga doesn’t have much of an appeal because if he was to calm down any more he would be in a coma. He will however, listen to me talk about ‘yoga this and yoga that’ for long stretches of time. We are on the surface an unlikely pairing, but while the paths we travel are quite clearly our own, ultimately we come from the same place.

Will begins to talk about artificial intelligence. When those two words have been strung together in the same phrase I have either wanted to fall asleep, think about virtually anything else or scream. I know he is talking but I’m retreating into the thoughts in my own head away from what I have determined over time as being his overly cognitive universe and hear myself asking myself, ‘How did I ever end up with this guy?’ The song by the Talking Heads comes into my mind: What is that beautiful house? And you may ask yourself, where does that highway go? And you may ask yourself, am I right? …am I wrong? And you may tell yourself, my god! What have I done? Same as it ever was…same as it ever was…same as it ever was…

It’s not that I don’t care about what he is saying. But I really have to listen, and it’s the kind of hard work that makes feel like I’m mentally trudging through snow.

Our yoga practice is an intimate relationship with ourselves. There is the romantic period. Usually there is significant physical improvement during this phase or a teacher who rocks our world. We find ourselves repeating the practice over and over and over again and begin to get bored, or we realize the teacher has human frailties which are always so disappointing. There we are, taking triangle pose for granted while hearing David Byrne in our head. Eventually there becomes a need for practicing the zen term, ‘beginner’s mind.’ Beginner’s mind requires being willing to be a beginner, to show up as if it was the first time with no judgment, completely open to the moment. Same as it ever was…

I have a responsibility to pull myself back to the present when I’m being less than present, because it is after all my anniversary. And while I didn’t promise to listen to him until death do us part, I did promise to be with him. And being with him means being willing to enter into his world and experience what it’s like, to the best of my ability, to be him. I redirect my attention back to our conversation. As if grace descends upon me as a reward for trying, I feel as though I’m hearing him for the first time. What he is saying is totally interesting. I ask him how he knows so much about artificial intelligence. He reminds me that the reason he understands the way the brain works is because this is what he does for a living, he designs artificial intelligence. And I feel really stupid, because I really do know this. But I understand his work in a whole new way. I get a little taste of what it’s like to be him – again — because I’m willing to trudge through snow to meet him where he is. And there is that rush, the kind you feel when you are first getting to know someone and loving everything about them.

Samadhi, the final branch on the tree of yoga is bliss, supreme joy. Isn’t it great we are alive? Isn’t this moment amazing? Here we are again on our mat – again. Fantastic! Here are the people who we are sharing our lives with. When we commit to showing up, there are always discoveries. When there aren’t, we have to look inside and ask ourselves what of ourselves can we bring forward that we haven’t? No discrimination over which moment deserves our full attention.

‘Same as it ever was…’

I am spending these last days of 2008 in my basement… cleaning, paring down… And being thankful. And here is how it began:

Three and a half years ago while Liam was a baby, I had had just moved into our new house and had to take a quick trip to Portland. A little uncomfortable in my new neighborhood, I hid my favorite jewelry in the basement for ‘safe keeping.’ The problem that many nursing mothers can attest to is that brain cells aren’t the same after giving birth. In any case, I hid them so well, I hid them from myself.

I won’t go into how often I go down to the basement and look for that jewelry. But I couldn’t find them if I tried because it’s such a mess down there. I decided that it was time to get rid of what should no longer belong to me, and bring order to the chaos that is the underbelly of my home with no attachment to the outcome. Ok… a little attachment… because I really like that jewelry.

While I’m in the basement, I am reflecting on so many blessings: artwork I have made spanning over twenty years, every piece of dollhouse furniture from my childhood, and yes, all my old stuffed animals, Mexican retablos and skeletons for Day of the Dead ceremonies, computer parts and rugs. So many visible treasures.

I also spend time thinking about what are largely invisible treasures in the form of experiences in the last year: the yoga retreat in Italy, studying in India, training people to become yoga teachers here in the bay area, as well as therapists in Utah at a residential treatment center for adolescent girls, witnessing lives change every day because of yoga. I have met remarkable people who are doing remarkable things like building schools for children abroad. I have watched people who didn’t think they were so remarkable change many lives by taking extraordinary action that maybe a few years ago they had no idea they were capable of. So many blessings.

I love my things. In fact, that is why I’m in the basement in the first place. And my feeling about it is we are blessed, blessed with a responsibility of sharing our blessings, both visible and invisible. Too much stuff makes us feel encumbered and brings lack of clarity. There are so many who would benefit from the material possessions that no longer truly serve us. Somebody could be playing with my stuffed animals…

All the invisible gifts we were given on the inside in the form of talents are also meant to be shared. When we truly share ourselves with others, we open a great wide window into our own deep sustainable joy, the kind that is not dependent upon circumstances being the way we want them to be.

So I’ll be down in the basement until I am satisfied with what is mine to have and what is mine to give. And maybe I’ll find those rings, and maybe I won’t. But in the meantime, I’m wishing you the time to sit and appreciate your many many blessings. It’s a great way to begin what will be a great year!

I spent Thanksgiving weekend with my in-laws on the Suwannee River in Florida on their pontoon boat looking for manatees. And I haven’t been on a boat since my trip to India last month. My father-in-law has lung cancer and he has just discovered that it has traveled to the kidneys and liver. He was in remarkably good spirits although we are all extremely aware of time.

I have come to Florida for nearly six years but I can’t see the Suwannee without seeing the Ganges, the river I had always heard was sacred, until I saw it for myself and came to understand the big deal. The Ganges (the photograph at the top) is a river teeming with life and death, bright color and thick grey from the ashes of burned bodies that are placed in the river after cremation, clean laundry and floating ox carcasses and marigolds, people washing their bodies and people brushing their teeth. Everything in life happens on that river.

I spend minutes of every day since I have returned on the Ganges in my mind. I think about what it would be like to have a river inform my thoughts and actions, to know where I would be every sunrise and sunset, to know that that was where my body and everyone I knew would be consumed, to speak about a river as if she is truly alive. I have come to the conclusion that I return to the Ganges through memory because there were a lot of people very ‘out’ about their relationship with the Divine. On that river I found reverence for absolutely everything.

People pack into boats to do ‘puja.’ They take small bowls molded out of leaves and in the boats are flowers and a candle. They light 250 candles, say prayers and place the leaf-bowls onto the river and they float away. Candles flickering down the river. It was a common practice to make offerings of prayers, some prayers for my well being or the well being of my family, but prayers over time became a simple ‘thank you’ until there was nothing left to say.

It became so tangible how prayer and meditation function in relation to one another. Now that I’m home, and I make time to sit, I visualize those leaf boats in my mind and offer up whatever I have going on. Each thought, emotion or sensation gets a leaf boat and a candle. And sometimes I’m there sending out candles in my imaginary river for a good long while until I have a whole trail of candles in the darkness behind my eyelids and finally a little room to simply breathe. We each find a way to release what we have going on so we can get here right where we belong. We use whatever works! And when it doesn’t seem to work, there is always humor and the commitment to try again…

Being present is the yogi’s ultimate objective. I also understand the value of creating phenomenal memories. I’m not at a point in my spiritual development where the river of cars that is highway 101 evokes the same quality of presence that I feel on the Ganges, so sometimes I use memory to evoke devotion, aspiring to be present every moment — when paying bills, washing dishes and driving in traffic. You know, ‘first enlightenment, then the laundry.’

That weekend on the Suwannee River we made memories for all of us and especially my son Liam, times with his kind majestic grandfather at Thanksgiving, memories of his warmth, of playing Jenga, of driving the boat down the river. Everything is precious and there is no better time to remember.

Jennifer

“It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” – Mahatma Gandhi