Body image issues, yoga & Tara Stiles is a sell-out

Tags

abundant, anorexia, Asana, BlissChick, cheap shots, Giving, Intimacy, karma yoga, Mark Whitwell, marketing, Meditation, pranayama, Puja, regenerating, Self-esteem, sell out, seva, Slim Calm Sexy Yoga, Swami Satyananda, Tara Stiles, weight loss programs, Yoga, yoga nidra

Here’s the story of a very young girl…

One day, walking home from school this coltish lass felt so good about life and about herself. She thought she was beautiful and felt like a supermodel, convinced that she looked fantastic as she pranced along the sidewalk like it was some kind of fashion runway. It was an excellent ten minutes – the length of her walk home.

Coming in through the back door, she floated to the bathroom mirror to admire her magnificence. And she was heartbroken. There was not a prominent cheekbone or feline feature anywhere in sight. She looked NOTHING like the models in her Dolly and Cleo magazines. NOTHING.

And combined with her blonde and beautiful best friend that all the boys adored, and her brother’s daily taunts about her looks, she spent the rest of her life trying to see herself clearly. Which was difficult, because every time she looked in the mirror the words “not pretty” resonated somewhere in the back of her mind…

This is my story, but it’s also the story of numerous other young girls. From a ridiculously early age our lives are spent being compared to other women – by ourselves, others or both.

Unless we hit the gene-pool jackpot, most women start their lives feeling insecure and “not good enough”. Even then it sometimes isn’t enough! I mean, a girl I went to primary and high school with was pretty, blonde and built like a bird. She was also very good at athletics, competing at a state level. She was very popular, too, and went out with the hottest guy at school. And yet this girl who seemed to have everything STILL didn’t think she was good enough, and ended up with anorexia.

Our culture places so much value on physical appearance, academic or sporting prowess, instead of emotional maturity and openness. As such, many westerners have barely any connection to their bodies. There’s so much living in the head, divorced from the heart. We think too much, we’re reliant on external gratification and live in a highly visual world where beauty is given a very narrow definition.

Finding yoga

It’s no surprise then, that when I found yoga I felt very happy and relieved. Because I discovered yoga wasn’t about how I looked so much as how I felt. How my body and mind connect and who I am when I strip away fleeting things such as labels, my job, and physical appearance. Who am I when I close my eyes to meditate and the visible world melts away? And who are you?

So I practice yoga (including asana, pranayama, meditation, yoga nidra, puja and more) and I feel good about myself, no matter what anyone else thinks. In fact, I find I don’t CARE about what anyone else thinks. Because yoga opens my heart. It connects me to myself and to other people and it’s about LOVE. It doesn’t separate and segregate and it sure as hell isn’t about what size clothes I wear.

Yet still, I struggle on and off with body image/not good enough issues. I did a guest post about such things over on BlissChick’s blog.

Yoga helps me very much with such things, and it gets a little easier every day to look in the mirror and not instantly think I am repulsive looking. Most women have this to contend with in some way or another, no matter how they look.

Earlier this year I was fortunate enough to go to a Mark Whitwell workshop. Fortunate, not just because of the wonderful yoga he has to share, but because he is a dyed in the wool Mother Earth worshipping feminist. He gets it in a way many women never will, and certainly few men.

Mark writes things like this about yoga:

…Yoga is every person’s direct intimacy with reality, an entirely abundant, regenerating, and nurturing power. This is yoga from the heart, for the heart, and it promises health, intimacy, well-being, and joy…

One to one intimacy is as close and as necessary as your breath is to your body. In fact the practice of this inherent union of breath and body allows for the inherent union in all relatedness. It is an utter pleasure and unquestioned continuity with everything. It is Ha tha Yoga, “strength receiving.” Actual and natural, non obsessive practice.

Mark spreads love, positivity, empowerment and damn good yoga around the world. And he gives marvelous hugs. He’s very real and approachable. He makes yoga fun and doable for those who might think it’s not for them.

And then…

Yoga and women get betrayed – by a woman!

There are people out there who call themselves yogis, and take the most external aspects of the practice and market that as a weight loss program like some kind of meal replacement product! Unbelievably, this is being fronted by a woman!

Yes, Tara Stiles, I’m talking about YOU and your Slim Calm Sexy Yoga.

I recommend reading Linda-Sama’s post about Tara’s latest efforts. I agree with Linda whole-heartedly and I find myself enraged by Tara Stiles.

So much so that I wrote this tweet:

Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to discover that Tara had replied to that message with this piece of nonsense:

Wow. Just WOW. My reply to Tara was this (and then a whole lot more!)

I cannot tell you how frightening I find this approach to marketing yoga. Or rather, yoga-like movements that have been called yoga, but have nothing to do with the practice in any way…

Cheap shots. We’re talking cheap shots to the already fragile self-esteem most women have (and let’s face it, this is not being marketed to men!). Fired off by a so-called yogi to get people to buy her book. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I know a BUNCH of accomplished and deeply realised yogis who do NOT have a perfect body. They are not a size 00, and probably never were. You could not call them slim per se, and yet they are happy, wonderful, calm and sexy people. They are yogis with big, huge, juicy hearts and so much wisdom and compassion that you can’t help but feel better from spending time around them.

And we have wonderful men like Mark Whitwell teaching yoga in a way that’s accessible and beautiful, and more than anything, authentic and genuine.

Or brilliant yogis like Swami Satyananda who couldn’t give a flying f#ck about “Slim Calm Sexy Yoga”. Yeah, he was perfectly healthy right up until his death and look at that body! No ripped abs. No bulging biceps!

Then Tara Stiles decides to take advantage of the current fanaticism about weight loss using the name of yoga (but certainly not its philosophies) to line her pockets on the back of other women who already feel crappy about themselves. Nice way to align yourself with the sisterhood, Tara!

And nice way to sell out yoga and degrade its real benefits to those who don’t know any better.

Yoga = love = self-acceptance = giving

Just for once, I’d like to see famous yogis who are right into all this marketing business, using yoga to HELP this world. Help the planet and people in need.

I have no idea why there isn’t already an outpouring of yoga events put on purely as a benefit. I see it at a grassroots level, but not as big as something like Wanderlust for example. Imagine getting lots of wisdom masters to do dharma talks, meditation and asana practice FOR FREE. Yes, free! Anyone heard of a little thing called karma yoga or seva? Let the people pay to come and get the good stuff, and all of the profits GO DIRECTLY TO PEOPLE IN NEED.

Like the communities that lost their livelihood as a result of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill. Or the Haiti disaster. Or the floods in Pakistan. Or just people who live in your community and are about to be evicted. Or whatever!

Imagine that, can you? I can. Those who came along would benefit from real teachings that aren’t in any way about physical appearance. And the money would go to people who need it. Why? Simply because they are human beings, like everyone else.

Yoga is about GIVING. Not taking. That’s how I get my calm and my sexy. I don’t need no special book and unrealistic promises to deliver that…

**More on this topic by me**

A little less ranty, and a little more rational… 😉

• Samskaras in samsara – part 1
• Samskaras in samsara – part 2
• News from the anti-Slim, Calm, Sexy “Yoga” trenches
• it’s all yoga, baby’s top 15 yoga posts of 2010

~Svasti

**UPDATE 3rd August 2011** To all the people still reading this topic and leaving indignant comments:
Please look at the date of this post. It was a year ago. My anger about this is long gone, but I still disagree with Tara Stiles’ approach to yoga very much. So do a lot of other people, both yoga teachers and non-yoga teachers. Now, if you wanna call me rude, go ahead. I consider this a highly passionate post, fueled by anger for sure. But not rude. Or unyogic. Of course you’re welcome to your opinions as I am to mine, but no matter what you write in the comments I ain’t gonna change my mind. I’d never do a Tara Stiles yoga class. This woman also runs a highly questionable yoga teacher training program that I’d never do either. So there it is. Go ahead, be a Tara apologist. I won’t stop you. But do remember this topic is over a year old and all of the main players have moved on…

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The Workshop of Love – part 3

Tags

Asana, Mantra, Mark Whitwell, Meditation, Missy Higgins, Puja, Steer, Worship, Yoga

Photo liberated from Mark's Facebook profile 🙂

[Read part 1 & part 2 first]

**Note: La Gitane raised a valid point in the comments for part 2 of this series. When Mark is talking about “your yoga”, this doesn’t mean only doing the asana that you like, or not doing a full complement of forward bend/back bend/side bend/twisting/inverted poses – if you’re capable of doing so. Instead he’s talking about a practice that contains the appropriate elements of a yoga practice, but in a way that suits your body and its limitations. Just wanted to be clear about that!**

Around two hours into our Sunday session, we’d just finished our first asana practice for the day when a young girl and her mum walked in. Mark had clearly been expecting them: This is Melissa and her mum Margaret. Come in and sit down, but just watch the rest of the group for now…

(Fact: I almost never notice famous people even when they’re right under my nose. And being in a small windowless room full of yogis proved no exception. “Melissa” was in fact, Missy Higgins – a talented and successful singer/song-writer in Australia. Of course, I didn’t realise until after we’d finished for the day when I heard others asking if it was ‘really her’).

Even when Mark quoted lyrics from one of Missy’s songs, I still didn’t twig:

…But the search ends here

Where the night is totally clear

And your heart is fierce

So now you finally know

That you control where you go

You can steer…

~Steer, Missy Higgins

Although we didn’t know it yet, Missy’s mum Margaret, was our lesson for the day. Especially for all the yoga teachers in the room.

All of Margaret’s kids love yoga and she’d always wanted to join them but found it almost impossible. She had some very serious back problems and could not join in a regular yoga class. But she could still breathe, and as such, yoga was possible.

Mark promised to help her find “her yoga” – a practice she could do, that would benefit both her body and mind.

She was game for it, and so after listening to our dialog with Mark for a while and watching while he put us through more asana practice, he started to ask her about her situation. I won’t go into what she told us specifically, but essentially any movement beyond very gentle forward bends was out. No rotation of the spine.

It meant that her practice was mostly seated and on her hands and knees. Very little standing, no twisting and nothing energetic or advanced. At the start of the session she mentioned how her mind drove her crazy with non-stop thoughts, but by the end of practicing “her yoga” (which we practiced with her) she felt so much better and found her mind was much calmer.

Now, Margaret’s yoga doesn’t look like anything you’d find in a yoga class, or even in what is taught at yoga teacher training. But still, yoga it is. And, with continued daily practice, it should benefit her every bit as much as a full-on hour and a half yoga class works for other people. Because it’s appropriate for her body and because it allows her to consciously engage her body/mind/breathe connection.

Other reasons it can still be defined as yoga are directly related to the principals of Strength Receiving that Mark taught us:

1. Breath movement IS body movement.
2. The breath starts and ends the movement.
3. Inhale from above, exhale from below.
4. Body, Breath and Bandha are a seamless process.
5. Asana, Pranayama, Meditation, and Life is a seamless design.

There’s a lot to unpack in these principals, but as I’m still unpacking them myself, I’d suggest you buy Mark’s book and/or get to one of his workshops if you can. I promise you that you’ll love it!

Towards the very end of the day, as we sat in naturally arising meditation, Mark had us chanting and placing mantra at various points of the body. Repeating the mantra at the heart centre, the crown of the head, the shoulders, the belly, the groin, the upper legs, the knees, the top and bottom of the feet.

Try this using any mantra you know. It very much felt to me like “self-puja” (or self-worship). Not as in blowing smoke up your own… y’know. But honouring your Self with love and respect. Recognising the miracle of your existence, and that your yoga practice is a sacred contract with yourself to remember who you are, every time you practice.

I’d say the most important thing I got from my time with Mark was the transmission of his gentleness. He reminds us that our yoga practice isn’t meant to be a struggle, but a pleasure. And that we have all of the tools we need for uncovering our own sense of beauty and divinity.

As he recently wrote on Facebook:

Technically, a yoga practice must make a person feel better. Then it is correct practice. “There is no bad yoga. If it’s not good, it’s not yoga!”

And when I get the chance, I’ll spend more time with him again. Absolutely.

~Svasti

This is my yoga…

Tags

abandoned, Asana, Giving, headstands, heart openings, japa, kirtan, Mantra, Meditation, mortality, Puja, trees, Yagna, Yoga

La Gitane over at Yoga Gypsy just wrote a post on this exact topic, and I thought I’d turn it into a bit of a meme. Or a mala, as she put it!

But actually, going back to 2005, there’s also Linda’s post on Paz Yoga. Then more recently, This is My Real Yoga, and Show Up and Shut Up.

Not long ago I wrote Yoga is…?? but it was more of a comment on the fact that there’s still a whole bunch of people in the world who still have no idea what yoga is beyond some vague concept of physical movement (which is okay, really).

And now, here’s my version – THIS is my yoga – well, some of it anyway…

Love.

Kirtan.

Sharing.

Breathing.

Random headstands.

Pre-dawn meditation.

Laughing when babies laugh.

Befriending cats and dogs in the street.

Finding out the truth about who I really am.

Heart openings. As many as I can manage, every day.

Running my fingers over beautiful patterns in tree bark.

Coming to terms with the full capacity of being a human being.

Yoga asana in the studio, at home, in the park, at work, in the dark.

Getting really real with myself & seeing reality without the multitude of filters we embrace every day.

Understanding I’m not what I think I am, and being able to get glimpses here at there of what I really am instead.

Not pretending. There’s no point in being fake with myself or others. Genuinely acting from compassion, which doesn’t always mean what we think it might.

Really getting the pointlessness of grasping at things. It doesn’t mean I don’t want things (possessions, lovers, money etc) but it does mean I end up not wasting my energy because I don’t have them.

Had a conversation with a girl last week about how there’s a perception that people who are into yoga and spiritual work are all “love and light” all of the time. And how when I first stepped onto this path consciously (as opposed to always being on it but unaware) that I thought that’s what being spiritual was. Now I know that spirituality is gritty, sometimes dark and very, very real. No fantasies. No fluff.

Learning to put aside the never-ending monkey-mind thoughts, the ones that want to drag me down into fear, hate and anger. Or distract me with material things I don’t really have any interest in, or cause anxiety if I let them. Yes, seeing those thoughts for what they are and learning to walk on by without getting too involved.

Learning to exist in the world without feeling the need to manipulate myself or anyone else. That’s a big, hard lesson because one of the stories that’s been running most of my life is that of feeling abandoned. We all attempt to seduce, coerce, have our own way, influence etc. We all do it, even in very tiny ways. Babies learn the favourable responses of adults around them and how to repeat the behaviours that caused the response they want. We teach them our game, and they learn to play. But as adults, we need to learn to disengage from that aspect of our habits and culture, because it takes us away from who we really are.

Learning that giving to others is one of the best things we have to offer to other human beings. Whether it’s a hug, food, money, a conversation or whatever. Giving opens up the heart. It’s not about stroking your ego – instead it’s about realising you are no more or less important than anybody else. Everyone in fact, is equally important in this world. Keep giving, no matter what.

Really, REALLY realising that in the end, we’re all going to die. It’s one of the conditions of life, and part of what makes it so special. But also realising that I am not this body, that who I am is part of something much bigger than that…

Honouring all living things as part of the whole, including rocks, trees, the ocean and the wind.

Riding my push bike, wind streaming through my hair and singing joyfully and loudly.

Participating in puja to witness divinity in all living beings, myself included.

Helping other people in whatever way is appropriate and useful.

Discovering where I think my limitations are and aren’t.

Yagna ceremonies on full moon and new moon.

Dancing like a wild woman.

Cups of tea with friends.

Endless rounds of japa.

Midnight meditations.

Surrender.

Learning.

Stillness.

Mantra.

Joy.

Yeah… those are just some of the things that yoga means to me…

If you’d like to play along, please do so – and perhaps link to the other posts on the same topic to keep the mala threaded!

~Svasti

History of a spiritual quest – part iii

Tags

belly dancing, Carlisle Castle Hotel, coven, Egypt, full moon, Guru, Hare Krishna, Interview with the Vampire, Kali, Newtown, Pagan, paganism, Pagans in the Pub, pentagrams, Puja, satin, sexual preferences, spiritual quest, velvet, witchcraft

[Read part i & part ii first]

Various dark coloured shades of satin and velvet. A talking stick. Women with flowers in their hair, layers of silver jewellery and long swooshing skirts. Sequins and sparkly things. Incense. Grown men and women in robes with hoods. And capes. Leather pouches tied to belts containing runes or tarot cards. The occasional new agey t-shirt with a wolf howling at the moon.

And much beer.

This was my introduction to Pagans in the Pub in Sydney, circa 1993.

A group of twenty or so people gathered in the back room of the Carlisle Castle Hotel (yes, Pagans in the Pub held in a pub with the name ‘castle’ in the title – the puns are free and keep on coming!).

The Carlisle Castle, courtesy of Google street view

Just an unassuming working class pub in the narrow backstreets of Newtown surrounded by workman’s cottages built snugly together. The front bar was populated with stoic and gruff older men, surprised at the repeated declarations of ‘Blessed be’ emanating from the back room.

I spotted T, dressed in a dark red long sleeved shirt, a black vest and jeans, meticulous dark hair and beard. He introduced me to a bunch of people whose names I immediately forgot.

Of course, it wasn’t just ‘hi, I’m Jason’, but ‘hi, I’m Jason-Lightworker and I’m a Druid’. Or ‘hi, I’m Silverstar and I’m a Shaman’. Everyone there, it seemed, was a something-or-other-magical-label which they revelled in.

There was discussion and debate. Plenty of opinions voiced and egos marched out for all to see. The topics were decidedly unusual, but hey, what could I expect from a mixed bag of pagans?

Overwhelming is one word. Colourful is another. Whacky, free-spirited and a little lost… they’re other words.

Let me just say the start of my search in no way resembled where I ended up. But if I hadn’t taken that first tentative step (followed by many others), I never would have met my guru. Even if it was just a slightly out of the way route.

Me and T

Turns out T was one of the movers and shakers in the Sydney pagan community. He was somewhat notorious, and had been around for a long time.

Although at the time I was questioning my sexual preferences (gay/straight/bi), and even though I didn’t find T (14 years my senior) physically attractive, somehow we ended up together.

And actually at the time we met, I was in fact, dating a woman. Clearly, not for long.

That part of the story alone, is worthy of its own focus. There’s no way to write about the how’s and why’s of my relationship with T without changing the point of this story, which is my journey through the world of neo-paganism.

It was a mad eighteen months of my life in which: we went to Egypt (my first overseas trip and T is well-versed in Egyptian mythology); we moved in together (bookshelves, skull candelabras, pentagram rugs and all!); I started belly dancing (he thought I’d like it – I did); he taught me about witchcraft (not as dark and dangerous as most would imagine); we started a coven (small group of people learning witchcraft); we ran a pretty awesome dress up event for the premiere of Interview with the Vampire (another story yet again); T contemplated faking his own death (I talked him out of it)… and more.

Much more.

With T, I attended my first ever pagan type weekend gathering. You know the kind – a bush camp site with bunks and dorms, a mess hall, marquee tents and fire pits. Drums, full moon (and other) rituals, various workshops, late night jam sessions, hash, peace and love. He also took me to my very first Hare Krishna meal by donation/chanting session and we went often.

In some ways, T was the real deal and I learnt a lot from him. In other ways, he was completely stark raving crazy.

I had my doubts about T and I around eight months in. He was running away from his past, and stuck in a certain reality. I was still… learning. However, I was meeting plenty of people and being exposed to all kinds of new ideas.

That time in my life was somehow very important (which is part of that other story). I was still only twenty-two, impressively aimless and ashamed that I hadn’t gone to university.

What I learned

I was living life like it was some big adventure playground. But finally I was learning all kinds that made sense to me (at least some of it did) on spiritual topics. Things I’d written about many years ago. It was… helpful.

But the pagan scene, I found, was a little hollow. Many of the people putting on robes and turning up to full moon rituals could just as easily have been attending church. By that I mean, they seemed to want to belong and be a part of something. Have a label that worked for them. And there was little real magic going on.

I even met one guy who, despite his tattoos and piercings, eyeliner and 100% black wardrobe, claims to black magic and darkness… once said… Do you ever think about what will happen if the Christians are right?

Personally, I didn’t. I’ve never seen things quite as black and white as that.

Generally, the people were lovely and the experiences were cool. But I was looking for something else. I imagined it was like ringing a bell with a very specific tone and pitch that exactly matches my own.

And I hadn’t found it yet.

I even met a genuine yogi at that time – a Kali devotee – fond of naked puja. But it didn’t ring true, not with him. Which perhaps had something to do with the fact that I found him a little peculiar. Nice. But kinda whacked.

Endings & beginnings

Things ended with T as dramatically as they’d begun.

I’d been performing in some local theatre and he was jealous of my co-star (much closer to me in age, not to mention tall, dark & sexy). I found out later T had been following me as I walked to rehearsals!

Nothing had happened, except for the kissing required of our roles. But there was a definite flirtation going on.

T and I had put on another of our big costume parties. All our pagan friends, my theatre and belly dance friends were invited. It was a wild night with a band in the front room, local pop-rock stars in attendance, lots of dancing, drinking and madness.

For reasons known only to T, he flew into a rage after everyone had left, accusing me of sleeping with my co-star (I wasn’t, not yet). He didn’t believe me and threw me out of the bedroom, ordering me to move out the next day (with ominous threats of what would happen if I didn’t).

The threat I’ve never been able to forget is… a little too gruesome to write down.

I was sufficiently terrified and called one of my pagan friends. S said she’d help me move and I could stay with her until I found my own place.

[Read part iv]

~Svasti

Emphasis

Tags

Diacritics, Mother Goddess, Puja, Sanskrit, Sri Chakra Yantra, Tantra, Worship, Yoga

Helloooo from the house of our Pandit, where day one of our training is now complete. Its almost 9.30pm and as such, almost time for bed (on account of the fact we tend to get up real early in retreat mode). Somewhere between 5.30 & 6am).

Today’s schedule was to drill our understanding of Sanskrit and correct pronunciation.

And something that’s very important is emphasis. As in, a word can look the same in diacritics (English transliteration of Sanskrit letters) but if there’s a little symbol of some kind over or under a particular letter, that changes everything.

So, there needs to be some careful attention paid to such symbols, to ensure, for example… you don’t end up calling someone a prostitute instead of referring to their nose. I’m not kidding!

A little bit like how misunderstandings can occur between people using what we think is straightforward language… awareness and consideration are always useful skills to possess in order to avoid such mistakes…

Once we’d drilled letters and sounds and the alphabet all morning, we spent the afternoon chanting a number of sacred texts – things we use in our yoga practice anyway, but now have much greater understanding of and control over how we pronounce them.

The end of the day was interesting… we went to the local Hindu temple, which is actually a Sri Lankan Saivite temple (dedicated to Shiva – which is our linneage as well). It was a juicy puja – the hair where it attaches to my scalp has only just stopped tingling… several hours after we got back, actually.

They were performing a (very Tantrik) Sri Chakra Yantra ritual – which is about the worship of a living, married and happy woman as an incarnation of the Mother Goddess, for the benefit of all beings.

Thing I love about this stuff, is not just the worshipping of women, but that worship is considered an art form, personal and individual. Ya gotta feel it!

There’s no preaching, and beyond a few guidelines, there’s no set way of performing any Tantrik puja. There’s a freedom there, to commune with God/god as you see fit (or not).

And in my estimation, that’s how it should be.

Namaste…

~Svasti

Five sleeps…

Tags

Ceremony, Homa, Meditation, Namaste, Puja, Pujari, Ritual, Sanskrit, Sydney, Vedic chanting, Worship, Yoga, Yogini

As rough as things have been lately, up and down and round the freakin’ bend… I am, I’ll admit, feeling a little excited.

In just five more sleeps (including tonight’s – and yeah, I really shoulda been in bed a couple of hours ago), I’ll be back in my beloved Sydney.

As I might’ve mentioned in another post, in my experience, it’s not so much places as people that feel like home. Yet… some places seem more like home than others… and Sydney was like that for me when I moved there at the tender age of twenty-one. It’s also where the majority of my closest friends live.

I’m heading north on Saturday to complete some pujari training. And what’s that, I hear some of you asking?

Well, puja is a Sanskrit word referring to the act of worship. Ceremony. Ritual. And Hindu rituals are both intricate and beautiful. Truly. And full of gorgeous meaning and intent.

A pujari then, is someone who can complete puja. This level of training is for personal puja only. Later training might include being able to perform puja for other people, too.

By the way, in this context worship, although it appears to external… is really a way of projecting our own divinity outwards, where we can see it. We make offerings, worship and show love and devotion to our divine Self. Then, at the end of a puja, we draw that essence back into our heart.

Beautiful, don’t ya think?

We’ll be staying at the home of our favourite Brahmin priest – a good friend of my Guru’s in fact – who’ll try and knock some form into our puja. He’ll also be teaching us a little more Sanskrit, Vedic chanting, puja theory, homa practice (fire ceremony) and more.

Of course, there’ll be plenty of yoga and meditation going on too!

And if there’s any down time, guess we’ll be jumping in the backyard pool.

Nice, eh?

It will be very rejuvenating, spending time amongst my fellow Aussie yogis and yoginis. Most of them I haven’t seen since August last year. But a couple of others I haven’t seen for a year or two.

All very wonderful for a yogini who, for the most part, practices alone. And, I’ve always had an affinity with ritual – so its all good for me.

So anyways, posts could be a little light on this week and I won’t be back home til 1^st Feb. There’s plenty of half-finished posts, so if I get the chance I’ll sneak one out before I leave.

A big Namaste to you all…

P.S. Don’t worry about Miss Cleo the cat – a good friend will be house-sitting and making sure she’s fed and given plenty of attention.

~Svasti

The pain, the pain

Tags

Bangkok, Brahma, Broken bones, Erawin Shrine, Ganesha, Incense, Ink, Loei, Mantra, Offerings, Pain, Pappy Ganet, Prayers, Puja, red eye, Senses, Sukhumvit, Tattoo, Thai tattoo

En-masse, the people of this world have an aversion to pain. Its part of the survival mechanism, is it not?

From my experience I think physical pain is easier to deal with than mental pain. That’s possibly influenced by the five times in my life where I’ve broken bones (eight in total). Plus the multiple sports injuries and operations (too many to count). Not to mention a bone graft. I feel like I can get to know physical pain. I understand what makes it better or worse. I can see when I’m getting better. Compared to years of depression and trauma, physical injuries are a cake walk.

Yet it’s amusing to think that I was afraid of getting a tattoo for years because I thought it would hurt.

Though perhaps, I was just waiting for the right one. I never wanted a rose or some arbitrary design I’d eventually grow to dislike. I hadn’t seen anything that got my attention until my Guru took his shirt off on our 2007 retreat in the US.

He had a huge Thai Singha Lion in the middle of his back and I was very attracted to the design, the style and energy of it. Very. Like, purrrr… over a tattoo.

At this year’s retreat word went ’round: we had a chance to go and see the man (Arjan Tong) who’d done my Guru’s ink after retreat. WOW!

There was a lot of interest but my Guru didn’t want all and sundry going, especially if it added to anyone’s idea of themselves as “spiritual”.

He surveyed those who put their hands up, asked questions where he thought people were kidding themselves.

I thought you already had a tattoo, he says. I say nope! He nods. That was the extent of his questions for me.

In the end there were two groups of five to go on different days.

It was important to bring offerings, not just money. In fact, we’d been asked not to pay more than 500 baht ($17AUD) so as not to risk insulting him even though it wasn’t a lot to us. But if we brought rice, flowers, fruit, sweets – that would be respectful and well received.

We took a Thai “red eye” bus overnight from Loei to Bangkok. Not recommended. There was scant time or room for sleep as we poured into a friend’s tiny unit to shower and change. And a little meditation and prayer. Aum namah sivaya.

Somehow we flagged a cab in peak hour on Sukhumvit and we were off to the outskirts of Bangkok. Somewhere!

An hour later (thanks Bangkok traffic) and a few wrong turns, we’d arrived. We wouldn’t have known we were there except for a tiny Thai lady who walked up to our cab and almost dragged us out, beckoning us down an ordinary looking lane way. Left turn into a two-man aisle.

Walking past the backs of people’s places, or was that the front? At the end of the lane was a red gate with a red embossed trishul.

Through the door, past people waiting, a sharp right turn and up rickety stairs.

Whoah! The room is alive. Its clear puja (ceremony) has just been completed with the offerings and incense spread under the wall to ceiling altar.

In fact the whole room is an altar. My heart is running a mile a minute, the back of my skull feeling like it’s been removed and is expanding dramatically. Wait, I know this feeling from my meditation practices…

We’re sitting on the floor, remembering to take everything they offer us (water, food) as we wait, so as not to be rude. All looking at each other, knowing eyes: This place is off the hook.

The altar is made up of statues and pictures, carvings and images. So many. Members of the tattoo lineage Arjan is a part of. We wait in near silence.

The monks arrive, giving us incense to make offerings. Pray to your god, they say. Everyone who comes in does this too, and soon there’s twenty or more sticks burning at the same time.

Our eyes burn as the incense is pumped around the room by a fan turned on to combat the extreme heat of the day. These are only minor distractions though.

One of Arjan’s students – a Thai man named David – speaks to us, helps us prepare. His English is excellent and he also talks to us about his own meditation practice.

An hour later Arjan himself appears. There’s no rushing this. His eyes light up when he sees our offerings, particularly the rice. He takes his snuff, makes his preparations. This is a ritual folks!

We all jostle nervously – most of us want to go first, deferring to each other. The order changed again. We are all a little bit afraid, but it was something we want regardless. I’ve been told it’s gonna hurt like crazy but I don’t care.

My eyes feel as large as saucers, the back of my head and my spine are expanding. No longer limited to what I generally consider the bounds of my body.

I end up going third. I kneel, placing my money in the polystyrene offering plate decorated with orchids. David and I talk about what I want – not that its necessarily what you’ll get! David translates Arjan’s words back to me – we’ll give you a lovely figure design, everyone will love you. No, I want to have love for all beings, I protest. Well, when you love everyone, then everyone loves you.

I lean forward and hug my knees to my chest. I have to stay as covered as possible. Three men stretch my skin, pulling it taut like a canvass. Arjan draws freehand to guide his work. Then takes the long old fashioned spear and dips it in ink. I relax. He starts and I think – this isn’t any worse than pricking your finger when sewing. And I’d done plenty of that!

This wasn’t pain, not really. But even when it felt a little sharp at times, through breathing it was possible to relax that and remain in the moment. Guruji had spoken to us about zoning out, and I didn’t want to do that.

Smelling the incense, feeling hands and the spear on me, seeing nothing externally as I closed my eyes and meditated, hearing Thai conversations of Arjan with the men around me and the whisperings of my fellow yogis. Tasting the sweat rolling down my face.

David is instructed to give me a mantra to repeat silently until Arjan is finished. When he’s done Arjan prays over his work, tangibly putting some serious energy into it. I turn and bow. I’m given another mantra that I now must do before each meal, three times a day. Every day. Good thing I like ritual!

The remaining two people in our party have their tattoos done as well. We’re all ecstatic!

We bow our thanks when the last of us is done, and farewell the now very crowded room. This time we get a cab to the closest BTS station and train it back to central Bangkok, which is much faster.

I can feel my tattoo. It doesn’t hurt and it barely bleeds, unlike western ones. But it pulses warmth and energy. It radiates and opens. There’s a sense of bliss. We go and visit Erawin Shrine (the wish fulfilling Brahma) and the Pappy Ganet (Ganesha) shrine before finding our hotels for the night.

I know some of my friends had the same experience as me – that it wasn’t painful at all. But others (including the guys) found it almost unbearable.

And I wonder. What is this thing called pain? Why does the same experience cause different levels of suffering for different people?

Is it just that some people have had more dealings with pain, and therefore their tolerance increases? Is it transferrable? Because I’ve had so much physical AND mental pain, does that mean that things phase me less and less? I don’t think I’m less sensitive, in fact I think I’m very sensitive. But perhaps I am less-so in some ways?

Does it also mean its harder for someone to reach in and really touch my heart?

~Svasti