So, Punk legend turned anti-war activist Patti Smith was on Democracy Now yesterday, and was talking about how she made the transition from oral perfomer of poems to rock musician, and her perspective on her career looking back, and I loved what she had to say. She said her most important rudder as she decides what to give her energy and attention to is whether or not she can do it joyfully. For example, she was opposed to the idea of a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when it was being conceived, but then when they wanted to induct her, she decided her parents would love it, and so she would accept. And, if she was going to receive the honor, she was going to do it with genuine gratitude, not cynically, or why do it? She writes her songs while she does things like peeling potatoes with her kids running around her feet, and she writes about the political realities that most touch her as a human, like war, and encourages the people to take the power back from the war-makers.
Never having identified with Punk music before, I was pleasantly surprised by how kindred I felt with this woman whose background was so starkly different from my own. But she was talking from such a well-considered perspective, having shaped it over a long and colorful life, that her wisdom was just this simple, straightforward refresher course in what any human being's motivation ought to be. And how beautiful to be reminded that it is, in fact, simple! If we are each created with the gifts we are here to express, then when we are doing what brings us joy, we are doing what it is our purpose to do. Like a shovel moving earth, or a piano playing music.
But her other point is also worth recounting: she said she never prioritized commercial success, because then she would be forced to compromise what was most essentially her message and style to please the people paying her. So instead, she has been content to live a simpler life than superstar status would have provided her, and retained the freedom to rail against war at the top of her voice, to inspire her children to live what they believe and, like Mother Teresa, to act according to the need.
It is wisdom that translates really smoothly onto the mat, and into a yogically-lived life:
Do only what you can do joyfully.
Give your energy to those things that allow you to be most fully yourself.
And at all costs, retain the freedom to go to where there is a need that matches your gifts.
Namaste!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Private Lessons and Personal Quiet
Hello, Dear Students!
I am a little heartbroken this morning to have to tell you that my time with Element has come to an end. But, on the bright side, spring is here, and so what better time could there be to shift my focus from the studio setting to the private setting? :) Sessions outside, in back yards, on decks, by water, have long been my favorite ways to practice, and to teach.
I was listening to community radio Thurdsay morning (89.5 if you aren't already a fan), and the Fresh Air interview was with a man whose work centered around how far our culture has taken us from familiarity with quiet. He talked about the fact that, in nature, very few sounds are really loud, and that our ears are best suited to listening closely to nuances of sound, while we move quietly through the outdoor world. Along with our ears constantly being overloaded with sound, then, there is the secondary effect that our brains so rarely have the space in quiet to wander freely through ideas and impressions.
I have had a similar thought when I've read the writing of people like Henry David Thoreau, who wrote from and about the wilderness, or even Jane Austen, who wrote about society, but did so in a time before all the auditory media that so fills our worlds today. The thing that distinguishes those writers from eras before media is very often the length of their trains of thought. Sentences and paragraphs are so long and complex that modern readers frequently don't have the patience or the attention span to stick with them. It takes some getting used to, slowing our minds down and staying focused on long trains of thought. Just imagine how differently a mind is able to work when, once conversation (which is a precious and endangered art in itself) stopped, and left long stretches of silence in which one could remain conscious and only minimally distracted! When the rhythmic tasks that make up a day are routine, and so the mind has space to roam, thoughts would naturally have the freedom to become more clear, and more complex.
Silence in our waking lives today is rare and precious. But it is still, both according to ancient disciplines like yoga, and to the observation of modern science, deeply beneficial for the relief of tension, alkalyzing of a body, processing of experiences, and healthy aging of a brain. We can only benefit from setting time aside for it and protecting it zealously.
And so, in this season when the outdoors are so very inviting, I will make two invitations: the first is simply an encouragement to practice sitting in silence alone. Let your thoughts drift by like clouds, and only let the thoughts that feed you and lift you up be the ones you grab hold of... make shapes with... roll around on your tongue for a while. Just enjoy whatever happens as a gift from the silence. The second invitation I'll extend to you all is for a private class, on your own, in your favorite outdoor spot. A practice that focuses on stillness and breath, on breathing into poses that deeply nourish and cleanse, and can be soaked in in silence are a beautiful entry to spring. You can contact me at mymelissamarie@gmail.com to set one up. But even if not as a formal class, I assure you, there is no sweeter way to practice than in fresh, spring-scented air!
Namaste!
I am a little heartbroken this morning to have to tell you that my time with Element has come to an end. But, on the bright side, spring is here, and so what better time could there be to shift my focus from the studio setting to the private setting? :) Sessions outside, in back yards, on decks, by water, have long been my favorite ways to practice, and to teach.
I was listening to community radio Thurdsay morning (89.5 if you aren't already a fan), and the Fresh Air interview was with a man whose work centered around how far our culture has taken us from familiarity with quiet. He talked about the fact that, in nature, very few sounds are really loud, and that our ears are best suited to listening closely to nuances of sound, while we move quietly through the outdoor world. Along with our ears constantly being overloaded with sound, then, there is the secondary effect that our brains so rarely have the space in quiet to wander freely through ideas and impressions.
I have had a similar thought when I've read the writing of people like Henry David Thoreau, who wrote from and about the wilderness, or even Jane Austen, who wrote about society, but did so in a time before all the auditory media that so fills our worlds today. The thing that distinguishes those writers from eras before media is very often the length of their trains of thought. Sentences and paragraphs are so long and complex that modern readers frequently don't have the patience or the attention span to stick with them. It takes some getting used to, slowing our minds down and staying focused on long trains of thought. Just imagine how differently a mind is able to work when, once conversation (which is a precious and endangered art in itself) stopped, and left long stretches of silence in which one could remain conscious and only minimally distracted! When the rhythmic tasks that make up a day are routine, and so the mind has space to roam, thoughts would naturally have the freedom to become more clear, and more complex.
Silence in our waking lives today is rare and precious. But it is still, both according to ancient disciplines like yoga, and to the observation of modern science, deeply beneficial for the relief of tension, alkalyzing of a body, processing of experiences, and healthy aging of a brain. We can only benefit from setting time aside for it and protecting it zealously.
And so, in this season when the outdoors are so very inviting, I will make two invitations: the first is simply an encouragement to practice sitting in silence alone. Let your thoughts drift by like clouds, and only let the thoughts that feed you and lift you up be the ones you grab hold of... make shapes with... roll around on your tongue for a while. Just enjoy whatever happens as a gift from the silence. The second invitation I'll extend to you all is for a private class, on your own, in your favorite outdoor spot. A practice that focuses on stillness and breath, on breathing into poses that deeply nourish and cleanse, and can be soaked in in silence are a beautiful entry to spring. You can contact me at mymelissamarie@gmail.com to set one up. But even if not as a formal class, I assure you, there is no sweeter way to practice than in fresh, spring-scented air!
Namaste!
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