Monday, March 10, 2008
BE HERE for Him, NOW
Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
Wayne Dyer talks about spiritual teacher and friend Ram Dass
One of the truly great men of our time needs our help. I write these words to encourage your generosity and support. Back in the 1960's a Harvard professor named Richard Alpert left behind the hectic world of academia and traveled to India—there he was to meet his spiritual teacher who gave him a new purpose to fulfill along with a new name. He of course is Ram Dass.
His guru told him love everyone, feed people and see God everywhere. Ram Dass became a person who lived out this mandate—he did what so many of us could only dream. He connected to his spirit and devoted his life to serving others.
In 1969 he wrote and published the signature book on spirituality and applied higher awareness, Be Here Now. In keeping with his commitment to love everyone and feed people, he donated all of the royalties and profits to foundations that did just that. With millions of dollars at stake, Ram Dass simply chose to live his life as a man of service to God.
After years spent in India in pursuit of a higher more enlightened consciousness for himself and for our troubled world, he returned to the United States to lecture throughout the country. He spoke to packed venues wherever he went, and as always he donated the proceeds to such causes as would keep him in harmony with his mandate to serve. He co-founded the Seva Foundation and his writing and lecture fees were primary sources for this compassionate and inspired work.
To me Ram Dass was and is the finest speaker I have ever heard, period! He was my role model on stage; always gentle and kind, always speaking without notes from his heart, sharing his inspiring stories and always with great humor. I tell you this from my own heart; I could listen to his lectures for hours and always felt saddened when they would end. He was the voice for Applied Spirituality—his life was the model. When he was threatened by having his own private sexual preference exposed, in a time when a closet was the only place that was even mildly safe, Ram Dass called a press conference and proudly announced his preference to the world. He paved the way for tolerance and love when no one else would dare to do so.
Most of us could only dream of defying the conventional life and living out our inner callings to promote a cause that was bigger than our own lives—to leave the security of a guaranteed career—to leave a country where comfort was ensured; all to live in a foreign land with few conveniences, traveling and meditating for a more peaceful world. It is what St. Francis did in the 13th century and what Ram Dass did in our lifetime.
When Ram Dass' own father, who had largely criticized his son's unconventional lifestyle, was close to death, Ram Dass devoted himself to 100% service in those final years. He fed his father, he bathed his father, he placed him on and off the toilet until the day he died. Why? Because he felt this was his mandate. He wanted to experience true service on a 24/7 basis and know firsthand the joy that comes from giving one's own life away in the service of others. Always, for over 30 years, Ram Dass was in the service of others.
In 1997 Ram Dass was struck by a semi-paralyzing stroke and became wheelchair bound. Still he wrote of his adventure in a powerful book titled, Still Here. He continued to travel, though he could no longer walk and continued to speak to audiences, though he spoke from a slowed down body, but still he did it to serve others.
Now it is our turn...Ram Dass' body can no longer endure the rigors of travel. He has come to Maui, where I live and write. I speak with him frequently and I am often humbled by the tears in his beautiful 73-year-old eyes as he apologizes for not having prepared for his own elderly health care—for what he now perceives as burdensome to others. He still intends to write and teach; however without the travel—we can now come to him. Maui is healing—Maui is where Ram Dass wishes to stay for now!
He is currently living in a home on Maui, which he doesn't own and is currently in jeopardy of losing. I am asking all of you to help purchase this home and to set up a financial foundation to take care of this man who has raised so much money to ensure the futures of so many others. To live out what Ram Dass has practiced with his actions. Please be generous and prompt—no one is more deserving of our love and financial support. In the end these donations will help ensure that Ram Dass and his work will reach another generation or remind a current generation that it is in giving that we receive.
If there has ever been a great spirit who lived in our lifetime, literally devoting his life to the highest principles of spirit, it has been Ram Dass. I love this man; he has been my inspiration and the inspiration for millions of us. It is now time to show him how we feel by doing what he has taught all of us to do—Just , BE HERE for him, NOW.
Two crows, a kid and the Master
MUKUL SHARMA
ONCE upon a time (said the Master) there were two crows. Every spring when the weather began maturing to warmth and mulberry trees grew their simple lobed leaves back from winter, they would come and perch amid the foliage of one such tree. Together they would sit on the same branch every year and gaze all over in the mid-morning sun doing nothing else for hours as if they were just content to be in each others’ company. “But were they actually experiencing happiness in their own company? Asked the Disciple. “Who knows,” replied the Master. “They were only crows.” Now this tree (continued the Master) was in the backyard of a house in which lived a little boy who loved mulberries. Every morning around this time he would go up to the terrace on the first floor where some of the high branches drooped, looking for the first signs of fruit. He had seen the two crows through a few seasons by then but they didn’t interest him any longer. For neither would the birds get startled as he approached, nor fly off when he began rummaging around the leaves. Moreover, when he came for a second inspection in the evening, they were invariably gone. “But wasn’t he even a little bit curious about them?” asked the Disciple. “Who knows,” replied the Master. “He was only a little boy.” One season the boy noticed only one crow sitting on the branch. He didn’t know that, in general, unless one of them is killed or severely incapacitated, crows appear to stay with the same mate year after year. And then too, if older, they often don’t bond again. So this boy saw this solitary crow perched all by itself and suddenly felt that perhaps something was not completely right with the world. Not that the crow was doing anything it had never done before. For, as usual, it had hunkered on its haunches prepared for a long and typically uninteresting roost and was looking lazily around here and there from time to time. But the fact that there were not two of them any more made the boy fleetingly sad. However (concluded the Master), soon he forgot all about it. This was when the Disciple thought he could finally ask the question, fomenting inside him for a while. A question that had to be answered sincerely or it would make no sense to anybody. “But are you not yourself happy, curious or sad sometimes — even fleetingly?” he asked. “Who knows,” replied the Master. “I’m only a Master.”
ONCE upon a time (said the Master) there were two crows. Every spring when the weather began maturing to warmth and mulberry trees grew their simple lobed leaves back from winter, they would come and perch amid the foliage of one such tree. Together they would sit on the same branch every year and gaze all over in the mid-morning sun doing nothing else for hours as if they were just content to be in each others’ company. “But were they actually experiencing happiness in their own company? Asked the Disciple. “Who knows,” replied the Master. “They were only crows.” Now this tree (continued the Master) was in the backyard of a house in which lived a little boy who loved mulberries. Every morning around this time he would go up to the terrace on the first floor where some of the high branches drooped, looking for the first signs of fruit. He had seen the two crows through a few seasons by then but they didn’t interest him any longer. For neither would the birds get startled as he approached, nor fly off when he began rummaging around the leaves. Moreover, when he came for a second inspection in the evening, they were invariably gone. “But wasn’t he even a little bit curious about them?” asked the Disciple. “Who knows,” replied the Master. “He was only a little boy.” One season the boy noticed only one crow sitting on the branch. He didn’t know that, in general, unless one of them is killed or severely incapacitated, crows appear to stay with the same mate year after year. And then too, if older, they often don’t bond again. So this boy saw this solitary crow perched all by itself and suddenly felt that perhaps something was not completely right with the world. Not that the crow was doing anything it had never done before. For, as usual, it had hunkered on its haunches prepared for a long and typically uninteresting roost and was looking lazily around here and there from time to time. But the fact that there were not two of them any more made the boy fleetingly sad. However (concluded the Master), soon he forgot all about it. This was when the Disciple thought he could finally ask the question, fomenting inside him for a while. A question that had to be answered sincerely or it would make no sense to anybody. “But are you not yourself happy, curious or sad sometimes — even fleetingly?” he asked. “Who knows,” replied the Master. “I’m only a Master.”
Self-annihilating Love Destroys And Liberates
Discourse: Sadhguru
Love essentially means somebody else has become far more important than yourself. That may be distressing for your existence is threatened. You will lose all your freedom and everything that you have. The moment you say “I love you” you can no more do what you want in your life. There are innumerable problems, but at the same time it’s pleasant. It’s sweet. It drags you in. It is self-annihilating. If you do not annihilate yourself, you will never know love. Some part of you must die. If you don’t let this happen, there is no love, only calculation. What you call as love generally is a mutual benefit scheme. It’s an arrangement. There is still some sweetness in this; mutually, both people are benefited, but it is conditional. If you get very unreasonable the other person will slowly back off. Even in your love affair you have to be reasonable. But devotion is unreasonable love. It is one-sided madness. That is the beauty of loving God because you don’t have to have a relationship — you can just love. And if you have a relationship, it’s all on your terms... Love is self-annihilating because your personality, likes, dislikes — you are willing to surrender when you really love somebody. When there is no love, people are rigid. When suddenly they fall in love with someone, they are willing to twist themselves any way they need to, which is a fantastic spiritual process because you are becoming flexible. So love is definitely selfannihilating; that’s the most beautiful part of it, as long as you don’t handle it as a deal. We have formed a variety of relationships in our lives. There is indeed expression of love in these relationships. It should be there in everything that you do. But when we are talking about love as a spiritual process, as a process of self-annihilation, when we use the word “annihilation”, it looks like a negative word. Whether you call it annihilation or liberation, destruction or nirvana, when we say, Shiva is a destroyer, we are saying he is a compulsive lover. Love is not necessarily self-annihilation, it could be just annihilation. It all depends who you love. So he destroys you; because if it doesn’t destroy you, it is not a genuine love affair. When i say “destroy you”, it doesn’t mean destroying your home, your business, this or that. When what you call as “myself ”, your rigid personality, is destroyed in the process of loving, that is self-annihilation. If you love a man, woman or a child, in the process of loving not just you are getting entangled, the other person also gets entangled. Once the entanglement is mutual, you cannot release yourself when you grow out of it. The idea of looking up and loving Krishna, loving Jesus, loving something up there or loving a guru is because you need not have any fear of entanglement from the other side. You love as much as you want; when you grow out of it, there is no resistance from the other side. That is the beauty of devotion. Without some sense of love in you, without some sense of self-annihilation, you cannot meditate. If you pull down the whole of what you call as “myself ”, you will become absolutely still and transcendent. Inner engineering programmes, free introduction, March 12 and 26, 6.30 p.m. Contact: 9820529183, 9820058361.
Love essentially means somebody else has become far more important than yourself. That may be distressing for your existence is threatened. You will lose all your freedom and everything that you have. The moment you say “I love you” you can no more do what you want in your life. There are innumerable problems, but at the same time it’s pleasant. It’s sweet. It drags you in. It is self-annihilating. If you do not annihilate yourself, you will never know love. Some part of you must die. If you don’t let this happen, there is no love, only calculation. What you call as love generally is a mutual benefit scheme. It’s an arrangement. There is still some sweetness in this; mutually, both people are benefited, but it is conditional. If you get very unreasonable the other person will slowly back off. Even in your love affair you have to be reasonable. But devotion is unreasonable love. It is one-sided madness. That is the beauty of loving God because you don’t have to have a relationship — you can just love. And if you have a relationship, it’s all on your terms... Love is self-annihilating because your personality, likes, dislikes — you are willing to surrender when you really love somebody. When there is no love, people are rigid. When suddenly they fall in love with someone, they are willing to twist themselves any way they need to, which is a fantastic spiritual process because you are becoming flexible. So love is definitely selfannihilating; that’s the most beautiful part of it, as long as you don’t handle it as a deal. We have formed a variety of relationships in our lives. There is indeed expression of love in these relationships. It should be there in everything that you do. But when we are talking about love as a spiritual process, as a process of self-annihilation, when we use the word “annihilation”, it looks like a negative word. Whether you call it annihilation or liberation, destruction or nirvana, when we say, Shiva is a destroyer, we are saying he is a compulsive lover. Love is not necessarily self-annihilation, it could be just annihilation. It all depends who you love. So he destroys you; because if it doesn’t destroy you, it is not a genuine love affair. When i say “destroy you”, it doesn’t mean destroying your home, your business, this or that. When what you call as “myself ”, your rigid personality, is destroyed in the process of loving, that is self-annihilation. If you love a man, woman or a child, in the process of loving not just you are getting entangled, the other person also gets entangled. Once the entanglement is mutual, you cannot release yourself when you grow out of it. The idea of looking up and loving Krishna, loving Jesus, loving something up there or loving a guru is because you need not have any fear of entanglement from the other side. You love as much as you want; when you grow out of it, there is no resistance from the other side. That is the beauty of devotion. Without some sense of love in you, without some sense of self-annihilation, you cannot meditate. If you pull down the whole of what you call as “myself ”, you will become absolutely still and transcendent. Inner engineering programmes, free introduction, March 12 and 26, 6.30 p.m. Contact: 9820529183, 9820058361.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Do's and Dont's Of Pranayana
By B.K.S. Iyengar
Pranayama is the fourth limb of Patanjali's eight-fold path of yoga, or ashtanga yoga. You must not attempt it till you have gained some mastery over the third limb of ashtanga yogasana. This is because asana helps develop stability in the body, elasticity in the lung fibers and in other parts of the respiratory system—all essential for proper practice of pranayama. Some notes of caution must also be kept in mind before attempting pranayama:• Children who are below the age of 16 should not be taught pranayama.• Do not practice asanas immediately after pranayama. However, you can practice pranayama after asanas.• Do not practice pranayama in a hurry or when the chest is congested. • Do not practice pranayama for the day if the chest feels heavy and tense or if the sound of the breath becomes harsh and rough. • Do not perform pranayama immediately after a meal or when you are hungry.• Do not practice pranayama when you are depressed. Faulty practice, instead of benefiting, is more likely to invite disease. Irritability, restlessness and heaviness indicate incorrect practice and, if these happen, stop and seek the guidance of an experienced teacher. Just as there are several types of asanas, there are different types of pranayama. While Ujjayi and Viloma Pranayama are performed with open nostrils, in anuloma, Pratiloma and Nadi Shodhana Pranayama you use your fingers to regulate breath. Each of these pranayama has a different effect on your physiology and the state of your mind. A certain amount of maturity is, therefore, necessary to properly practice these pranayama.In inhalation (puraka), the outer skin of the back moves down and towards the front while the inner frontal skin expands and opens up, without disturbing the outer frontal skin of the chest. In exhalation (rechaka), the skin of the inner back and the inner front of the trunk is lifted up and alerted to keep it steady. Then the breath is released in the form of rechaka through the outer skin of the front chest.When passivity is felt evenly in the inner and outer skin of the front and back trunk, without shrinking or stooping of the spine and caving in of the chest, rechaka is complete.Art of Sitting Sit in such a way that the center of your tail bone's bottom is perpendicular to the floor. If we call the tail bone's center the south pole, then the center of the spine's head is the north pole. Without disturbing either of these points, adjust the rest of the spine in a line, as if placing one vertebra over the other. This subtle adjustment will help you understand the movement of the body's five elements while doing pranayama.Any kind of forward or backward movement means a certain disturbance or imbalance in the elements in your body. Spread the bottom of your buttock bones as if they were mounds. Relax the groin. Position the center of the buttocks and the middle portion of the ankles so that they touch the ground accurately. In this manner, the water element of the body finds its level in the seat, groin and feet. Keep the front and back of your floating ribs parallel to each other.Jalandhara Bandha (chin-lock) When you practice pranayama with open nostrils, construct the dikes in the body with the help of prajna (conscious awareness) at the various entry gates for inhalation, which are at the bottom of the cheekbones, the upper palate and at the top of the windpipe.In order to build natural dikes for pranayama, the yogis of yore introduced Jalandhara Bandha or the chin-lock. This helps the prajna to judiciously control the incoming prana, let it flow rhythmically and later on distribute it uniformly. Dikes for outgoing energy are built at the diaphragm, the chest's external intercostal muscles, the windpipe and the top rings of the cheek bones.When the breath is deviated from the conditioned path, it enters and exits the body forcibly. These types of deep breaths, however, cannot be termed true pranayama. In pranayama, instead of letting the breath force its way in, the sadhak (seeker) must see that, while inhaling, the energy of the breath gets completely soaked into the body and, while exhaling, prana is released like water flowing through the sluice-gates of a reservoir so that the lungs get the time to absorb and store the energy in the system.Only after understanding and learning the basics of breathing, sitting and the principles of Jalandhara Bandha should you attempt any specific type of pranayama.
Pranayama is the fourth limb of Patanjali's eight-fold path of yoga, or ashtanga yoga. You must not attempt it till you have gained some mastery over the third limb of ashtanga yogasana. This is because asana helps develop stability in the body, elasticity in the lung fibers and in other parts of the respiratory system—all essential for proper practice of pranayama. Some notes of caution must also be kept in mind before attempting pranayama:• Children who are below the age of 16 should not be taught pranayama.• Do not practice asanas immediately after pranayama. However, you can practice pranayama after asanas.• Do not practice pranayama in a hurry or when the chest is congested. • Do not practice pranayama for the day if the chest feels heavy and tense or if the sound of the breath becomes harsh and rough. • Do not perform pranayama immediately after a meal or when you are hungry.• Do not practice pranayama when you are depressed. Faulty practice, instead of benefiting, is more likely to invite disease. Irritability, restlessness and heaviness indicate incorrect practice and, if these happen, stop and seek the guidance of an experienced teacher. Just as there are several types of asanas, there are different types of pranayama. While Ujjayi and Viloma Pranayama are performed with open nostrils, in anuloma, Pratiloma and Nadi Shodhana Pranayama you use your fingers to regulate breath. Each of these pranayama has a different effect on your physiology and the state of your mind. A certain amount of maturity is, therefore, necessary to properly practice these pranayama.In inhalation (puraka), the outer skin of the back moves down and towards the front while the inner frontal skin expands and opens up, without disturbing the outer frontal skin of the chest. In exhalation (rechaka), the skin of the inner back and the inner front of the trunk is lifted up and alerted to keep it steady. Then the breath is released in the form of rechaka through the outer skin of the front chest.When passivity is felt evenly in the inner and outer skin of the front and back trunk, without shrinking or stooping of the spine and caving in of the chest, rechaka is complete.Art of Sitting Sit in such a way that the center of your tail bone's bottom is perpendicular to the floor. If we call the tail bone's center the south pole, then the center of the spine's head is the north pole. Without disturbing either of these points, adjust the rest of the spine in a line, as if placing one vertebra over the other. This subtle adjustment will help you understand the movement of the body's five elements while doing pranayama.Any kind of forward or backward movement means a certain disturbance or imbalance in the elements in your body. Spread the bottom of your buttock bones as if they were mounds. Relax the groin. Position the center of the buttocks and the middle portion of the ankles so that they touch the ground accurately. In this manner, the water element of the body finds its level in the seat, groin and feet. Keep the front and back of your floating ribs parallel to each other.Jalandhara Bandha (chin-lock) When you practice pranayama with open nostrils, construct the dikes in the body with the help of prajna (conscious awareness) at the various entry gates for inhalation, which are at the bottom of the cheekbones, the upper palate and at the top of the windpipe.In order to build natural dikes for pranayama, the yogis of yore introduced Jalandhara Bandha or the chin-lock. This helps the prajna to judiciously control the incoming prana, let it flow rhythmically and later on distribute it uniformly. Dikes for outgoing energy are built at the diaphragm, the chest's external intercostal muscles, the windpipe and the top rings of the cheek bones.When the breath is deviated from the conditioned path, it enters and exits the body forcibly. These types of deep breaths, however, cannot be termed true pranayama. In pranayama, instead of letting the breath force its way in, the sadhak (seeker) must see that, while inhaling, the energy of the breath gets completely soaked into the body and, while exhaling, prana is released like water flowing through the sluice-gates of a reservoir so that the lungs get the time to absorb and store the energy in the system.Only after understanding and learning the basics of breathing, sitting and the principles of Jalandhara Bandha should you attempt any specific type of pranayama.
THE SCIENCE OF BREATH
By B.K.S. Iyengar
We are all born as composites of nature (prakriti), the elemental aspect of our being; energy (vishva chaitanya shakti), commonly called prana, and absolute consciousness (prajna). Together, matter, energy and absolute consciousness create action and stability, motion and mobility, understanding and creativity. The prime driving force of our existence is the vishva chaitanya shakti, a cosmic energy that exists in everything. It acts as a hidden force within us that simultaneously engulfs everything outside us. Ancient yogis understood the essence of prana, studied it and devised methods and practices to master it. These practices are called pranayama. 'Pranayama' is a compound word comprising 'prana' and 'yama'. It also means maintenance of prana in a healthy state at all ages and in all circumstances.Prana makes the body function, creating potency and power. It acts as a bridge connecting matter and consciousness, helping prajna to discover prakriti (nature) and chitta (soul). It uncovers the veil (ahamkara) between prakriti and purusha (man), so that matter (bhutas), energy and absolute awareness become one.The prana latent in us helps absorb the cosmic energy through inhalation and release the drawn-in breath through exhalation. When the cosmic energy is inhaled in full, prana manifests as individual energy or vyaktika shakti. This individual energy is then released through exhalation to merge with the cosmic energy. Pranayama helps you regulate the rhythmic intake of vishva chaitanya shakti, its utilization, and the release of vyaktika shakti.
The building blocks of pranayama are inhalation (puraka), exhalation (rechaka), retention after inhalation (antara kumbhaka) and retention after exhalation (bahya kumbhaka). For the microcosm that is our body, puraka is the generative force, kumbhaka the sustaining force, and rechaka the destructive force that removes toxic substances. Physiologically, the practice of pranayama helps tone the cells, sinews, tendons, ligaments, and stimulates the heart muscles with proper circulation and ventilation. Psychologically, it takes consciousness to an optimum level of efficiency.To practice pranayama, your senses have to build up passivity and receptivity so they can properly receive shakti in puraka and release it in rechaka. With time, the sadhak (seeker) becomes adept in the use of his senses. He uses the ears to control vibrations in puraka-rechaka. He feels with the skin the pleasant sensation of the breath's touch and learns to control the flow. The roof of his palate notices the coolness or hotness of breath and the sadhak uses this as a guide to regulate breathing. The nose receives and smells the fragrance of both vishva chaitanya shakti and vyaktika shakti.The body is a temple whose door (dwara) is the nostril. The soul (antaryami) resides in the innermost chamber. Just as you have to travel from a temple's outer chambers through the inner chambers to reach the sanctum sanctorum, in the same way the breath has to penetrate the various sheaths (kosha) of the body to reach the antaryami. The outermost chamber of our body is the anatomical (annamaya kosha), represented by the element of earth (prithvi). Next is the physiological (pranamaya kosha), represented by the element of water (apa). Then comes the mental body (manomaya kosha), represented by the element of fire (tej). This is followed by the intellectual body (vijnanamaya kosha), represented by the element of air (vayu). Finally, you reach the conscious body (chittamaya kosha), represented by the element of ether (byom).
To reach the antarayami, you have to move from the elements (panchbhutas) and the external senses (bahya indriyas) to the conscience (antakarna), which is called the dharmendriya. When you open the gates of the dharmendriya—which, according to the Yoga Sutra is dharma megha samadhi—you reach the self.Each inhalation (puraka) has to move from the outer to the inner, and each exhalation (rechaka) from the inner to the outer chambers. The breaths meet at the kumbhaka, where the universal merges with the individual in the sanctum sanctorum.Before practicing pranayama, you should know that your respiratory organ contains different paths for breathing. Learn to trace these paths. As you use the intelligence of your sight to avoid accidents on a road, you must utilize the intelligence of your consciousness to breathe on specified avenues formed by nature.In pranayama with open nostrils, the entry path for inhalation is the passage underneath the sinus bones or the cheekbones. The path for exhalation is the lower eyelid above the cheekbones. When you use fingers to modulate the breath flow, the inhalation touches the surface of the septum and exhalation touches the nostril's inner membranes.While doing pranayama, the sadhak has to create mental dikes so that the breath does not gush in or out, but is allowed to slip in gradually through the windpipe, the trachea, the bronchial tubes and the cells of lungs. Inhalation is not just gasping in air but receiving air. Similarly, exhalation is not expelling but releasing the breath. You must remain passive. Even if there is slight force, it pricks like needles and the breath remains at the surface and does not reach the depth of the lungs.When you retain the breath, you are helping the source of life to energize your cellular system. Through the vehicle of prana, the cosmic energy that is drawn in reaches the cells and draws out all toxic elements. The vitiated air must, therefore, be released consciously and carefully.
We are all born as composites of nature (prakriti), the elemental aspect of our being; energy (vishva chaitanya shakti), commonly called prana, and absolute consciousness (prajna). Together, matter, energy and absolute consciousness create action and stability, motion and mobility, understanding and creativity. The prime driving force of our existence is the vishva chaitanya shakti, a cosmic energy that exists in everything. It acts as a hidden force within us that simultaneously engulfs everything outside us. Ancient yogis understood the essence of prana, studied it and devised methods and practices to master it. These practices are called pranayama. 'Pranayama' is a compound word comprising 'prana' and 'yama'. It also means maintenance of prana in a healthy state at all ages and in all circumstances.Prana makes the body function, creating potency and power. It acts as a bridge connecting matter and consciousness, helping prajna to discover prakriti (nature) and chitta (soul). It uncovers the veil (ahamkara) between prakriti and purusha (man), so that matter (bhutas), energy and absolute awareness become one.The prana latent in us helps absorb the cosmic energy through inhalation and release the drawn-in breath through exhalation. When the cosmic energy is inhaled in full, prana manifests as individual energy or vyaktika shakti. This individual energy is then released through exhalation to merge with the cosmic energy. Pranayama helps you regulate the rhythmic intake of vishva chaitanya shakti, its utilization, and the release of vyaktika shakti.
The building blocks of pranayama are inhalation (puraka), exhalation (rechaka), retention after inhalation (antara kumbhaka) and retention after exhalation (bahya kumbhaka). For the microcosm that is our body, puraka is the generative force, kumbhaka the sustaining force, and rechaka the destructive force that removes toxic substances. Physiologically, the practice of pranayama helps tone the cells, sinews, tendons, ligaments, and stimulates the heart muscles with proper circulation and ventilation. Psychologically, it takes consciousness to an optimum level of efficiency.To practice pranayama, your senses have to build up passivity and receptivity so they can properly receive shakti in puraka and release it in rechaka. With time, the sadhak (seeker) becomes adept in the use of his senses. He uses the ears to control vibrations in puraka-rechaka. He feels with the skin the pleasant sensation of the breath's touch and learns to control the flow. The roof of his palate notices the coolness or hotness of breath and the sadhak uses this as a guide to regulate breathing. The nose receives and smells the fragrance of both vishva chaitanya shakti and vyaktika shakti.The body is a temple whose door (dwara) is the nostril. The soul (antaryami) resides in the innermost chamber. Just as you have to travel from a temple's outer chambers through the inner chambers to reach the sanctum sanctorum, in the same way the breath has to penetrate the various sheaths (kosha) of the body to reach the antaryami. The outermost chamber of our body is the anatomical (annamaya kosha), represented by the element of earth (prithvi). Next is the physiological (pranamaya kosha), represented by the element of water (apa). Then comes the mental body (manomaya kosha), represented by the element of fire (tej). This is followed by the intellectual body (vijnanamaya kosha), represented by the element of air (vayu). Finally, you reach the conscious body (chittamaya kosha), represented by the element of ether (byom).
To reach the antarayami, you have to move from the elements (panchbhutas) and the external senses (bahya indriyas) to the conscience (antakarna), which is called the dharmendriya. When you open the gates of the dharmendriya—which, according to the Yoga Sutra is dharma megha samadhi—you reach the self.Each inhalation (puraka) has to move from the outer to the inner, and each exhalation (rechaka) from the inner to the outer chambers. The breaths meet at the kumbhaka, where the universal merges with the individual in the sanctum sanctorum.Before practicing pranayama, you should know that your respiratory organ contains different paths for breathing. Learn to trace these paths. As you use the intelligence of your sight to avoid accidents on a road, you must utilize the intelligence of your consciousness to breathe on specified avenues formed by nature.In pranayama with open nostrils, the entry path for inhalation is the passage underneath the sinus bones or the cheekbones. The path for exhalation is the lower eyelid above the cheekbones. When you use fingers to modulate the breath flow, the inhalation touches the surface of the septum and exhalation touches the nostril's inner membranes.While doing pranayama, the sadhak has to create mental dikes so that the breath does not gush in or out, but is allowed to slip in gradually through the windpipe, the trachea, the bronchial tubes and the cells of lungs. Inhalation is not just gasping in air but receiving air. Similarly, exhalation is not expelling but releasing the breath. You must remain passive. Even if there is slight force, it pricks like needles and the breath remains at the surface and does not reach the depth of the lungs.When you retain the breath, you are helping the source of life to energize your cellular system. Through the vehicle of prana, the cosmic energy that is drawn in reaches the cells and draws out all toxic elements. The vitiated air must, therefore, be released consciously and carefully.
Recreating Our Stories To Reshape Our Lives
Marguerite Theophil
We are motivated to make decisions and to take action, consciously or otherwise, by the stories we repeatedly tell or hear. Therefore, we need to be attentive to just what those stories are. Stories we tell about ourselves and those that other people tell about us deeply affect how we live. Telling our stories of pain and sorrow once or twice is healing; telling them again and again is allowing that one part of our lives to determine how we see ourselves, or sadly, what we focus on or expect our lives to be like in the future. Sometimes the healing retellings come from outside, like in the story of Opalanga, whose story is told by Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, author of that engaging book on story, Women Who Run With The Wolves. Unusually tall and slender, as a child Opalanga was teased, and also told that the gap between her front teeth was the sign of a liar. However, as an adult she visited the Gambia and there found some of her ancestral people, many of whom were very tall and slender, with gaps between their front teeth. This gap, they called ‘sakaya yallah’ or ‘opening of God’; to them it was a sign of wisdom. Pinkola-Estes comments on the consequences of such revision: “...stories which began as experiences both oppressive and depressive end with joy and a strong sense of self. Opalanga understands that her height is her beauty, her smile one of wisdom, and that the voice of God is always close to her lips”. She offers this as an example of how easily we become ‘caught in a story’ and that the toxicity of attributions is even more disruptive and destructive if they are told to us early and authoritatively. Often with young children and teenagers, while it may be counterproductive to have them change the details of what has already happened to them, it is useful to have them recreate outcomes, or possible new endings. A young girl who worked with me for over two years first told me that her name meant “clouds” and that clouds “made the sky dark and unhappy, bringing destruction whenever they appeared”. An older family member had cruelly repeated that her father had lost his business the day this daughter was born! As we worked over many months, among other things with yoga, story and with symbols, drawing and painting, her clouds now and then were less grey and menacing. Later, the bottom of the page had a few fragile green things growing, a bird or two became visible in the sky, and much later her story was: “Clouds give welcome shade, they bring life-giving rain, they can make people happy”. Stories — personal or cultural — shape our perceptions. In fact, stories of the collective very easily slide into propaganda and dogma when viewed from one single perspective. In truth, it is often said, “The people who tell the story shape the culture”. Historically, many retold stories slip from pain and suffering into a perpetuating of hate and reprisal, as we see in so many cultural and religious or ethnic clashes the world over today. And ridiculously, the same people who keep telling those stories of hate and revenge on Monday, on Tuesday talk of creating peace! Healing our lives and world does not mean an avoidance of talking suffering and abuse; it does involve also telling of how we found — or are going to find — the strength to rise above this and how we want to put an end to generating such a cruel and endlessly retaliatory world.
We are motivated to make decisions and to take action, consciously or otherwise, by the stories we repeatedly tell or hear. Therefore, we need to be attentive to just what those stories are. Stories we tell about ourselves and those that other people tell about us deeply affect how we live. Telling our stories of pain and sorrow once or twice is healing; telling them again and again is allowing that one part of our lives to determine how we see ourselves, or sadly, what we focus on or expect our lives to be like in the future. Sometimes the healing retellings come from outside, like in the story of Opalanga, whose story is told by Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, author of that engaging book on story, Women Who Run With The Wolves. Unusually tall and slender, as a child Opalanga was teased, and also told that the gap between her front teeth was the sign of a liar. However, as an adult she visited the Gambia and there found some of her ancestral people, many of whom were very tall and slender, with gaps between their front teeth. This gap, they called ‘sakaya yallah’ or ‘opening of God’; to them it was a sign of wisdom. Pinkola-Estes comments on the consequences of such revision: “...stories which began as experiences both oppressive and depressive end with joy and a strong sense of self. Opalanga understands that her height is her beauty, her smile one of wisdom, and that the voice of God is always close to her lips”. She offers this as an example of how easily we become ‘caught in a story’ and that the toxicity of attributions is even more disruptive and destructive if they are told to us early and authoritatively. Often with young children and teenagers, while it may be counterproductive to have them change the details of what has already happened to them, it is useful to have them recreate outcomes, or possible new endings. A young girl who worked with me for over two years first told me that her name meant “clouds” and that clouds “made the sky dark and unhappy, bringing destruction whenever they appeared”. An older family member had cruelly repeated that her father had lost his business the day this daughter was born! As we worked over many months, among other things with yoga, story and with symbols, drawing and painting, her clouds now and then were less grey and menacing. Later, the bottom of the page had a few fragile green things growing, a bird or two became visible in the sky, and much later her story was: “Clouds give welcome shade, they bring life-giving rain, they can make people happy”. Stories — personal or cultural — shape our perceptions. In fact, stories of the collective very easily slide into propaganda and dogma when viewed from one single perspective. In truth, it is often said, “The people who tell the story shape the culture”. Historically, many retold stories slip from pain and suffering into a perpetuating of hate and reprisal, as we see in so many cultural and religious or ethnic clashes the world over today. And ridiculously, the same people who keep telling those stories of hate and revenge on Monday, on Tuesday talk of creating peace! Healing our lives and world does not mean an avoidance of talking suffering and abuse; it does involve also telling of how we found — or are going to find — the strength to rise above this and how we want to put an end to generating such a cruel and endlessly retaliatory world.
Mahesh Yogi’s ideas in practice
K VIJAYARAGHAVAN
EVEN on certain particular days, when the aspirant may feel disturbed, distracted and even frustrated during the practice of meditation, he should, as Maharishi Mahesh Yogi notes, continue with his practice. Such states are merely reflections of the stages of cleansing oneself of the different layers of conditioning and experiences (samskara) within. The thread of awareness should be continued throughout the practice, in an approach marked by, what Mahesh Yogi terms, innocence and simplicity. He also likens this to walking or driving on a road with traffic, distractions and obstacles. Regardless of these, one continues to go along, adjusting one’s approach appropriately. This concept is also similar to that of J Krishnamurthy — watching the goings on within as a disinterested witness (sakshi bhava) and also the practical application of the observation of Satyananda Saraswati (founder of the Bihar School of Yoga) that “meditation is not concentration, it is awareness”. In fact, any work done in this spirit of true meditation, detachment and freedom from self-obsession, rigidity or craving for results, ultimately proves to be powerful and thus productive — the law of least effort and also the Bhagawad Gita concepts of karmanyeva adhikarasthe and surrender to the supreme power all around, as also echoed in the Bible (Isaiah: 41,10), “Fear thou not… I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness”. This state of acceptance, peace, clarity and an apparent effortless naturalness (the state of “least disturbance”) is the basis for realisation of one’s full potential — “the field of all possibilities”, to use Mahesh Yogi’s term. This also is that state of self realisation and thus of an abiding confidence within — that state of equanimity, termed by Gita as samatvam, which verily is yoga. Doing all actions established in this state (yogastah kuru karmani), Mahesh Yogi points out, is the sure way to ensure that such actions prove to be right, evolutionary, effective and thus productive. Practical examples in daily life, as those of great leaders and statesmen, scientists, sportsmen, artistes and also those simple persons who may not have worldly attainments to boast of, but who are truly authentic — all these illustrate the actual working of the core of Mahesh Yogi’s exhortations on the art of right action (karmasu koushalam).
EVEN on certain particular days, when the aspirant may feel disturbed, distracted and even frustrated during the practice of meditation, he should, as Maharishi Mahesh Yogi notes, continue with his practice. Such states are merely reflections of the stages of cleansing oneself of the different layers of conditioning and experiences (samskara) within. The thread of awareness should be continued throughout the practice, in an approach marked by, what Mahesh Yogi terms, innocence and simplicity. He also likens this to walking or driving on a road with traffic, distractions and obstacles. Regardless of these, one continues to go along, adjusting one’s approach appropriately. This concept is also similar to that of J Krishnamurthy — watching the goings on within as a disinterested witness (sakshi bhava) and also the practical application of the observation of Satyananda Saraswati (founder of the Bihar School of Yoga) that “meditation is not concentration, it is awareness”. In fact, any work done in this spirit of true meditation, detachment and freedom from self-obsession, rigidity or craving for results, ultimately proves to be powerful and thus productive — the law of least effort and also the Bhagawad Gita concepts of karmanyeva adhikarasthe and surrender to the supreme power all around, as also echoed in the Bible (Isaiah: 41,10), “Fear thou not… I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness”. This state of acceptance, peace, clarity and an apparent effortless naturalness (the state of “least disturbance”) is the basis for realisation of one’s full potential — “the field of all possibilities”, to use Mahesh Yogi’s term. This also is that state of self realisation and thus of an abiding confidence within — that state of equanimity, termed by Gita as samatvam, which verily is yoga. Doing all actions established in this state (yogastah kuru karmani), Mahesh Yogi points out, is the sure way to ensure that such actions prove to be right, evolutionary, effective and thus productive. Practical examples in daily life, as those of great leaders and statesmen, scientists, sportsmen, artistes and also those simple persons who may not have worldly attainments to boast of, but who are truly authentic — all these illustrate the actual working of the core of Mahesh Yogi’s exhortations on the art of right action (karmasu koushalam).
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