Learning to Play

Something that comes to mind frequently, both as I practice and as I teach, is how valuable it is to be able to come to practice in the same frame of mind in which I used to go to the playground: tons of possibilities are there waiting for me, and while some of them will be harder than others, and some might even leave me wimpering and quivery-chinned in a pile on the ground, all of them exist for my pleasure and to make me strong.

When we are children, absolutely everything is a game, and everything is worth exploring, fiddling around with, giggling about. We are still learning to use our bodies, so trying on new tricks is an adventure and something worth sticking with. As adults, I think because we think we ought to have learned all of our tricks by now, we allow ourselves to scold our bodies and brains on the mat in a way that squashes all of the joy right out of practice and would, no doubt, utterly bewilder the children we once were.

The most concentrated educated I ever got in physical discipline as play came when I was in college, and I had the unexpected pleasure of teaching dance to 5 and 6 year old kids in their daycare centers. Since they were in the settings that had only ever been used for play before, the beginning was a struggle to say the least. I drove away bawling more than once in the first 3 or 4 weeks, so frustrated that my hard-earned dance education was insufficient to fascinate, and completely stumped as to how I was going to face these little creatures week after week. I was a college kid, but so far from being a kid in my idea of myself, that it had been years since I had really played... gotten down on the floor and let reality and my image of myself as an educated adult float away. Inexplicable mercy took me to class one day feeling just a little flippant and ornery, and therefore holding my agenda a little more loosely. For the first time in at least a decade, I sat on the floor and dove head-first into the world of the imaginary. I named toes, listened with fascination to stories and let myself just become one of the tiny people. Then, when I asked them to dance, it was as play... an extension of the play we were already doing.

Without wanting to endulge too much in the superlative, I have to tell you, it busted something loose in me, unburied something that shook the dirt off with relish, and I have remained irresistably attracted to the world of childhood play ever since. It's become a problem at garden parties! When there are children in attendence, I will very likely be wandering through fairyland and chasing butterflies. Reality is far too serious a place never to leave, and the lesson is applicable on the mat as much as anywhere in life.

It's another reason I like teaching in a slightly darkened room, so that each mat can become its own tiny universe, and each practicioner get lost in his or her own exploration. Walking through woods, snorkeling over a well-populated reef, lying in the grass and letting your eyes imagine the distance to the stars, are all perfect parallels to the mental exploration of the miraculous phenomenon of nature that happens on the mat. I hope to teach more and more from a place that invites that kind of freedom of exploration: to let both the bravery and the light-heartedness that made us strong and free as children continue to shape us as adults.

I'll leave you with a book recommendation: It is by Diane Ackerman, and it is called "Deep Play". It is about bringing the wonderment and awe of childhood forward into every stage of life. It is one I read in spread out pieces years ago, and have just picked up again to my overwhelming delight. You won't be disappointed.

"Swirling round with this familiar parable
Spinning, weaving round each new experience
Recognize this as a holy gift and
Celebrate this chance to be
Alive and breathing"
-Tool

One Moment at a Time

Albert Einstein is famously quoted as having said that "the only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once"... Confucius gifted humanity with the reminder that "a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"... Even President Obama calls us to action by reminding us of "the fierce urgency of now". We all know the feeling of the future pressing on our consciousness, pulling our attention from the moment we are in into the whirlwind of possibilities that float unformed ahead of us.

Worry is practically a virtue in Western society, and we live at such a pace that it seems impractical not to fret a little, since the future is coming hard on the heels of a present that presents very little time to prepare. The constant evolutions of relationships, the sameness of our daily routines, the frustrating world of politics, the moods that fall over us in the gray of midwestern winters, all steal our attention from the sacred and fleeting gift of this entirely unique moment.

One of yoga's most invaluable contributions to the way my brain works has been to bring me regularly back to my breath, and into this moment. Since our bodies are different every time we come to the mat, we get an unmatched kind of practice at meeting each breath, each motion as a completely unique experience... a discovery, an exploration, and a lesson in how to attend to all of our moments with that kind of calm attention.

I had a conversation with a friend whose life has been a whirlwind of change for the whole past year, and who still sees in the world in front of her a dizzying number of equally possible futures. Having come to the end of the usefulness of just shaking our heads at the overwhelm of our early 30s, we concluded that all we can do is to live attentively and with integrity one moment, one conversation, one breath at a time. Not only is living well in this present moment all we are able to do, it is our most sincere act of gratitude for the moments we are given. What other way is there to create a future we will enjoy than by living in a way today that keeps a garden of healthy relationships, happy memories, and work we can be proud of? By learning to learn what each moment has to teach us, exploring where each moment as the potential to take us as if we are on, not waiting for, our life's great adventure.

Yoga teaches that our only responsibility is for the spirit in which we act: our intention is all we have the ability to choose. Then, we lay control of the outcome of our actions at the feet of God. Ishvarapranidana. So I invite you to think about your intention, the attentiveness you bring to this present moment, the next time you are on the mat. If you don't already, start to think about the pace at which you are breathing, and the sensation of each individual motion as you practice. Then see how far beyond the mat you can keep your attentivenes in the here and now. Live in your five senses, enter into the stories of the people who surround you and let them be invitations to learn and to teach. Let each moment be just as valid and wide open an invitation to peace and clarity as the moments of full breath and fluid motion you practice on the mat.

I'd love to hear your stories as I train my attention to one moment at a time, as well... and I'll leave you with the words of Toni Morrison: "if you surrender to the wind, you can ride it!"

Namaste!