As I tell my clients, however, we are born with access to many strategies to move through life, strategies inherent in the three doshas that we embody. Creating a list and crossing things off, you could say, is the Pitta strategy. (Perhaps my fellow Pitta-dominant folks out there are familiar with this method.) Blessedly, we can call upon our non-dominant doshas to step up if we are overusing one strategy and getting out of balance. I realized I had fallen into the mire when I literally could not remember the last time I went outside just to take a walk.

So this week, I am reminding myself of the Vata way to move forward in a project, a more creative and spontaneous method that is less organized, but can be equally (if not more) powerful when I have driven myself into the ground and all I can see are dreary numbered lists in front of me.

Vata dosha is composed of the air and ether qualities, and consequently it can’t be lined up or pinned down. It flows and moves effortlessly around obstacles rather than beating its head against a closed door. One of its qualities is lightness – the opposite of heaviness, which can be useful, but also full of illumination and brilliance. It is the unexpected flash of insight, the colorful spark. It is quick and mobile, darting around and escaping stagnation.

When I start depending on my Pitta one-track-mind to move through my life, I need to be shaken up a bit. By relying solely on one strategy for “making progress” in my fledgling business or indeed my fledgling life as a newcomer to Austin, I need a reminder of the restorative power of flow and spontaneity.

Nature offers an easy, instant system reboot. Surrounded by trees, plants and things that move in cycles, I am reminded that life exists outside of my head, that I have a place in the world, that I am already “there.”

Here.

Sometimes all it takes is remembering to look up as I get out of the car in the parking lot.

Hatha yoga has been an important part of my life for over a decade, both as a personal practice and increasingly as a professional calling. Over the past two years, as I have been traveling and in transition geographically, I have been on a teaching hiatus. My personal practice has certainly evolved in that time, and I am eager to see how my teaching will change accordingly, for surely it will. While I have some premonitions, I suspect there will be some suprises ahead for me as my teaching habits collide with what’s been woken up in me over the past two years.

As I begin putting down roots again, I am thrilled to return to teaching. For those in the Austin area, you’ll be able to find me on Wednesday evenings at YogaYoga Westgate teaching Hatha Flow at 7:30pm. My first class was last week, and I am appreciating the expansive welcoming studio space and the kind people I am meeting there.

Beginning Jan. 26, I will be teaching a Gentle Meditative Yoga class at Soma Vida Wellness Center in East Austin on Thursday evenings at 6pm. Designed as a therapeutic foundational class, it will be welcoming for those new to yoga, as well as those healing from injury or illness. Soma Vida is a sweet home-like space filled with warmth, a place that invites practicing yoga as a deep restorative practice.

I am also now teaching a yoga class at a residential addiction treatment program as part of a fabulous non-profit organization called Community Yoga Austin. We bring yoga to Austinites who might not otherwise have access to this transformative practice. This coming Saturday morning at 8:45am, I will be teaching a free yoga class to raise awareness about Community Yoga Austin at the Lululemon store (6th and Lamar). Come join me for this community-building class and learn a bit about CYA and the work we do while sharing a practice together. Last week’s class with CYA teacher Geoff O’Meara was really beautiful – if you’re in the area, I hope you’ll join us!

In addition to teaching yoga again, I am excited to return to my mat this year as a yoga student. In the past few months, I have enjoyed meeting some of the many, many yoga teachers in Austin and exploring the wide variety of teaching styles. Yoga has always been a deeply grounding and joyful practice for me, reconnecting me to my sense of my inner light, that quiet calm place inside where I really DO know everything is going to be alright. Yoga fosters in me a sense of self-mastery, not physically but mentally – I feel less dragged around by my thoughts after practicing, more able to drop the stories running through my head and to sit quietly in that divine puddle of calm. Yoga frees up space for my highest self to rise naturally to the surface - less a sense of self-control than a sense of knowing that, regardless of my lack of control, I will be able to meet future circumstances with integrity and generosity. In the year ahead, I will cultivate and invite this sense through the word Sovereignty.

What word are you inviting in this year? Make it loud and concrete by sharing in the comments below – I am eager to hear your vision!

I come from a long line of Retreaters, so a few excellent strategies were passed down in my genes. I’ve picked up a few more along the way. I tend to Retreat on a regular basis, whenever I have a sense that my life is running away without me or I need to re-charge my batteries.

To me, Retreating is about creating the right environment for deep nurturance, reflection, and vision. It is a liminal space set apart from the daily-ness of life in which to step back and get a different perspective on life. It’s not a coincidence that the word “Retreat” is used – it usually involves stepping BACK from something, from the “to do” list, from your family members, from your usual routine.

I find it particularly useful to Retreat at times of transition: a birthday, the dawn of the school year, after completing a big work project  – or indeed, at the New Year. It doesn’t have to be on New Year’s Day, it can be just as fulfilling two days later, or the following weekend, or whenever you may have time. It doesn’t require a great deal of time either, but it does take some– and the more time you can wrangle, the juicier.

If you would like to join me tomorrow or in the days ahead, here are some jumping off points:

1) Decide on your chunk of time and set it aside – an hour, the afternoon, a whole weekend, even thirty minutes can do in a pinch. The key is that you set it ASIDE and get support from any necessary folks in the vicinity so you don’t get interrupted. “No interruptions” is absolutely vital. Turn off the cell phone.

2) Prepare your Retreat nest. Decide on your location and clear the clutter – you don’t have to clean out the closet, but do remove the piles on the surface. An empty and peaceful visual field invites in clarity and new thoughts.

3) Gather your Retreat equipment. Here are my requirements:

• A canvas of some kind – a journal, a sketchbook, collage materials, something to capture thoughts and allow creative musings to flow. Find some colored pencils, finger paints, a favorite pen.
• Soothing sustenance – warm chai, rich hot chocolate, herbal tea… or my choice for tomorrow: tulsi tea, a remarkable tonic herb known to support the body during cold and flu season (Organic India makes a fabulous selection often found at grocery stores or natural markets).
• A cocoon – a cuddly blanket, warm slippers, the perfect sunny spot by the window (our dog always knows the best spots in the house).
• A piece of nature – either to walk in, or in colder climes at least a vista to gaze at. Nature is the best source of restoration, a powerful reminder of our natural rhythms and the most efficient, effective guide to find balance if it’s been misplaced.

These are my bare minimum needs to Retreat, but feel free to add your own. I prefer silence for contemplation but maybe you need some music. Get creative in building your walls to hold the distractions out and the sweet stuff in.

4) Decide what to do. For me, the three critical components of Retreating are nurturance, reflection, and vision. The most compelling ideas for creating those components will come from within you. What seems absolutely nourishing and indulgent, but also special, a step away from “normal” life? What do you want to focus on? Is there something specific you are aiming for? Here’s my plan for tomorrow:

- Review the past year. How have I changed? What can I celebrate from this past year? What did I learn? What am I giving up going forward?

- Choose a one-word theme for the coming year. I’ve always loved the soul-searching and optimistic sense of frontier I find in developing New Year’s resolutions (although my resolutions have changed form over the years). Early on, I tended to fall into the trap of listing ways to “improve” myself, missing the truth that we are always exactly where we are supposed to be in our evolution. This year, I’ve decided to focus my vision by choosing one word that calls forward my fullest self, a word rich enough to be provocative for a full year. If that sounds intriguing, here are some ideas to get you going: Serenity, Power, Integrity, Clarity, Confidence, Celebration, Depth, Truth, Non-violence, Contentment, Discipline…. My process for choosing one word will lie in writing and seeing what rises to the top. As in all travels, the journey is as important as finding the destination.

- Take a walk in nature. Let the mind wander as the feet do. Inevitably, the pace of my steps slows as my thoughts do. I am reminded that I’m home already.

The Art of Being
By Ann Coray

The fern in the rain breathes the silver message.
Stay, lie low. Play your dark reeds
and relearn the beauty of absorption.
There is nothing beyond the rotten log
covered with leaves and needles.
Forget the light emerging with its golden wick.
Raise your face to the water-laden frond.
A thousand blossoms will fall into your arms.

Happy New Year to you, my friend. May it be full of joy, love, compassion, vibrant health, unshakable trust - and whatever vision you call into being.

~ivy

1. A massage - create a hand-drawn gift certificate to promise an hour of your time, or spring for a massage with a professional massage therapist. Nothing is more appreciated this time of year – everyone’s body seems to be aching! Ayurvedic oils make a lovely addition. Cold weather lends itself well to Vata-balancing oils, or for aching joints try Mahanarayan oil.

2. A homemade dinner complete with a menu that your lucky recipient can choose from. Explore unusual ingredients that span the six tastes of Ayurveda to create a truly adventurous meal. Check out some Ayurvedic cookbooks for recipes – or give the cookbook itself!

3. An Ayurvedic consultation with me! What better way to honor your loved one’s health and their connection to what truly nourishes them than with a gift certificate for an Ayurvedic consultation? (Or what better way to start your own illuminating New Year? I mean really, you deserve it!)

My consultations include an incredibly thorough assessment of your loved one’s health history and current concerns with deep listening to draw out the life-changing goals that will inspire them. After identifying specific lifestyle modifications, Ayurvedic practices, or dietary changes that will restore balance and move them towards their goals, we’ll design an implementation plan together.  Our ninety minute conversation can be held in person or by Skype/on the phone.

And now, just for the holidays, the usual price of $150 has been reduced to only $108! (Hey – you could buy one now for yourself and redeem it when you have time in the new year, after the price goes back up!)

Click here to purchase your e-gift certificate and print it immediately for instant gift-giving. (Be sure to select the correct gift certificate from the list of different providers available.)

Need more information? Visit my website, especially the Consultations page or my Bio. Give me a ring with any questions at (512) 230-2312 . I would be honored to be part of your holiday celebrations.

Here’s to peaceful, joyous days ahead, whatever your holidays may bring!

~Ivy

"Red Shift" by Ian Ingram

I have continued to reflect on one concept we discussed that was informing Ian’s latest piece, which was the relative strength of different methods to “get things done.” One method is the NASA model, as Ian called it. You establish a clear goal, the “mission,” and then commit to it. No need to identify at the outset the steps it will take to get there. The commitment to the end point is what matters; the details work themselves out. NASA decided they would put a man on the moon and then spent the next ten years figuring out how to do it. There obviously was no precedent for such an accomplishment, no road map for how to get there, but after choosing their mission, it was simply a matter of taking one step after the next until the mission was accomplished. The method is all about the end point, not the process.

This brought to mind a phenomenon explained by my teacher Claudia Welch: “Wherever your attention goes, prana follows. And where prana goes, your cells follow.” By focusing our mind’s attention, we create a flow of prana or life energy in a certain direction. Our intention is manifested on this subtle level first, the most powerful force we can marshal. In time, the path established by prana materializes physically, even in physical tissue. If our attention is perpetually focused on a pending disaster at work, and consequently our breath is shallow and prana is restricted, the muscle cells in our shoulders (or stomach, or neck…) will follow suit and form knots.

It occurred to me that this is the same phenomenon revealed by the NASA model. The NASA engineer starts every day envisioning a man walking on the moon. While she may not know what it’s going to take to get there, she focuses her attention on that reality. That vision is alive in every moment of her day. What’s even more powerful is the shared vision, the fact that thousands of NASA employees woke up every morning for ten years and stepped into that vision, concretely directing their prana towards that future. Where attention went, prana followed, until those intentions crystalized in a man standing on the moon.

The prize-winning question then becomes, how do we control what we pay attention to? There are countless things vying for our attention these days – pending deadlines, the needs of family members, long to-do lists, endless advertisements – indeed, entire professions are built around how to hold the “consumer’s” attention. A New York Times article I read recently described decision fatigue, a unique malady of our modern choice-filled culture. From the rows of tantalizing items at the checkout counter, to the multiple holiday-season invitations, to the tempting ”two for one” offers…. Deciding takes work. It requires weighing factors, comparing and contrasting, revisiting original intentions, consulting budgets and time commitments, and then landing on one side or the other – over and over again in a single day! Each act of consideration fatigues us just a bit more. It’s no wonder we’re tired at the end of the day. It is a war of attrition to direct our own attention rather than live at the mercy of the myriad attractions moving around us.

So how do we keep control of our attention stream?  How do we keep the conversations that feed and inspire us alive? It takes more than will power, or even good company - it takes strategy.

One thing I so valued at Vaidyagrama was having enough uncluttered mental space to examine an idea from multiple viewpoints, to allow it to simmer in the back of my mind until it was adequately cooked and rose to the surface again. To do so requires maintaining contact with an idea over a span of time in which you can consider it, put it aside, and pick it up again later when something reminds you of it from a new angle. My life before India never allowed for the “luxury” of such contemplation, and in India I realized its immense value – its necessity even, considering where I want to go, what I want my life to be about.

So I’ve been thinking, how do people do it? How are those creative, powerful, accomplished people keeping themselves focused on the important issues in life? My brother funnels his focus into his art. His highly-conceptualized pieces are a visual reflection of ideas he actively and intentionally percolates while he draws in his windowless studio. One way I am working with my attention is to set aside a regularly scheduled time for contemplation of the Big Pictures in my life. One can contemplate in meditation, or through journaling, or while doing a “mindless” activity like knitting. For me, writing is it - in fact, writing with YOU in mind. Preparing (or paring) my thoughts for a reader forces the digestion of ideas in a way that journaling doesn’t.

The missing key, which I have been discovering over the last few (post-less) weeks, is the regularity of the Big Picture contemplation, the non-negotiableness of its place in my schedule. It needs to be a firm part of my week for which I stop other activities, not something I do when I “find” the time – time is too easy to lose. If I wish it to serve the function of keeping my north star in sight, writing must be a regular part of my practice. And I expect you will see the evidence of this new regularity right here!

So I’m wondering, how do you keep focused on the important things in your life? What is your strategy?

I am getting my feet nestled in the earth here in Austin, lining up my most important sources of nourishment for the winter ahead. It has been unsettling -  to be expected while establishing a new home base. Add in a few unexpected curve balls life has thrown my way, and suffice it to say, it’s been a wind-tossed Autumn.

The best advice I’ve gotten from one of my teachers about weathering this transition is, “Stabilize. Stabilize everything you can stabilize.” So I am working on fixing my routines and my practices. The irony I am finding is that, at this time when my life is unfettered by many of the external commitments that have in the past limited my ability to create a healthy routine, my current flexibility does not lend itself easily to internally-enforced structure. Again, not surprising, as any self-employed person can attest. It’s part of the life-long effort to pacify vata dosha amidst the turmoil of our information age. It requires tapas, the internal fire of self-discipline, to establish and stick to the routines I know serve my own sanity and joy. This trial by fire is working – it burns away illusions and makes me appreciate even more deeply the tools I have been taught.

My new (physical, literal) home continues its evolution alongside my own. With beautiful cedar siding now in place, it’s beginning to look a lot more like home. I shall not tempt fate by estimating a move-in date, but it is definitely moving closer.

A few weeks ago, the monarch butterflies were migrating through Texas on their 2,500 mile journey. I looked out my window one morning and saw a colorful scattering of them passing by. Their improbable, tenacious journey south on such papery wings gave me encouragement.

On this Veterans Day, as so many of our country’s soldiers, present and past, struggle with their own journey home, I hope for the day when we adequately honor their sacrifices by not creating more opportunities for more sacrifice. May there be peace in our time.

It seems everywhere I turned this week, someone was announcing the arrival of Transition. On Friday we passed the autumnal Equinox when the sun appears to cross the equator from north to south heralding the first day of fall. Even in Texas, recent days have brought a palpable change in the temperature and the quality of light. At these times of seasonal transition, the buzz is that we are experiencing a moment of shift, a time-sensitive opportunity to let go and to prepare for the next season of our life – out with the old and in with the new.

I’m the Transition poster child, here in my new hometown with my new nephew, building a new house and a new private practice – I’m even physically in transit as I type this, writing from 30,000 feet in the air. And in truth, it seems everyone I know is in the midst of some fairly large transitional turbulence – a new marriage, a new job, a major remodel, a father’s death, an imminent relocation. Either I’m hanging out with a self-selecting crowd of transitioners, or there is a larger trend at work here. Being in transition seems to be the new black.

The implication of all this transition talk is that it’s somehow contained: we’re passing through a discreet blip on the calendar, an unsettled moment sandwiched between some larger, more serene moments. Pretty soon, we’ll get through it and be on the other side. We’ll be in the MIDDLE of autumn, in the full swing of the school year, firmly established in the second year of home-ownership. Things are gonna settle down. Any minute now.

What struck me today is that this sense of turbulence isn’t remotely unique to this spot on the calendar. The transitions just keep coming. There isn’t a period up ahead when life promises to stop delivering tectonic shifts. While I have caught myself blaming this condition on our modern lifestyle (“…we’re so addicted to speed and excess information and multitasking and hasty decisions prompted by marketing campaigns, no one makes time for stillness any more…”), in reality, it’s a fact of the human experience, just part of the package. The ancient Buddhist teachings on impermanence underline the ever-present nature of change. The only constant really IS change, and that was true even back when Heraclitus first said it in the 5^th century B.C.

As common as it is, that doesn’t diminish how uncomfortable it feels (to most of us) to be in transition for long. According to Ayurveda, as I wrote in my last post, transitions (even “good” ones) aggravate vata dosha, which can lead to a variety of discomforts like stress headaches, constipation, joint pain, indigestion, feeling off-center, ungrounded or outright panic-stricken. Teaching us how to pacify vata is one of the great gifts of Ayurveda as a health system, helping us to tolerate the turbulence of life’s passage with greater ease.

As I prepared to get on this plane (one of the most vata aggravating activities out there), I reminded myself what would help me feel grounded and comfy in my skin in the days ahead:

• Stick to my routines – to the extent possible, get up at the same time, eat at the same time, do my morning routine as usual.
• Eat vata-pacifying foods – warm, moist, soft comfort food. (Soup and oatmeal are good bets to seek out in the slim pickings of an airport.)
• Ask myself regularly, “Am I thirsty?” and then drink something, preferably something warm. At the very least, avoid ice.
• Stay warm. Keep a scarf in the car. Cover my head, and ears in particular, when it’s windy out.
• For God’s sake, don’t stop abhyanga (applying oil to the skin before showering) – this is an easy one to let drop by the wayside while traveling or feeling time-deprived, and all the more potent at those times.
• Create some mental stillness. People-watch instead of trying to accomplish something during my connection. Close my eyes and breathe. Look out the window and daydream.
• Think of something I’m grateful for, and then tell the responsible people. Dwelling in gratitude is the best anti-anxiety medicine there is.

So, welcome to autumn, my friends. Welcome to this time of transition – and to the one that’s coming right after it. Plato’s surprisingly timely words of advice remind us that humanity has been engaged in this turbulence all along:

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

The foundation of my future home

It’s hard to believe that a short two months ago, I was in India – or that one month ago, I was in Santa Fe. The 31-day span of August seemed to expand beyond its margins with more life-passage events than most months can handle. For starters, I picked up my life and relocated it to Austin, Texas; my brother and sister and I convened for our first-ever “sibling only” reunion (i.e., no parents, spouses or children); construction began on my future home behind my brother’s house; one of my dearest sister-friends celebrated her wedding; and last Monday, I witnessed the birth of my nephew, Marvel.

And marvel, I have. He was born at home, slipping into this world noiselessly and stunningly beautiful in a birthing tub in my brother’s home.  Equally beautiful were his parents working in coordinated single-pointed focus to bring him into this world of oxygen and gravity. That sight, the visual imprint of their powerful love for this new life and each other, will never leave my mind’s eye.

Since the time they discovered Jeri Lynn was pregnant right before I left for India, I have been planning to be here to support their family during this tumultuous transition. It seemed like too much of a happy coincidence that their second child would be born precisely when I would have no scheduled commitments and could devote a month to them. It is such a luxury in our culture to have a family member who can move in and help with the logistics of life maintenance for awhile after a child is born. The contrast is dramatic coming from India, where family members converge for weeks on end to help new parents. I honestly don’t know how any parents do it on their own.

In Ayurvedic terms, giving birth is one of the most significant disturbances of vata dosha that can occur in a woman’s body. When the uterus has grown to such an enormous size and then is suddenly vacated, the resulting empty space unsettles the tenuous balance the body has found. Vata dosha is the tangible expression in the body of the elements air and space, and since “like increases like,” this newly empty organ acts as an invitation to vata to move in and wreak havoc. Going through any major life change that disrupts order and predictability also increases vata dosha, so welcoming a new baby upsets vata for the whole family. The results of vata elevation can include digestive difficulties, constipation, pain, anxiety and fear, muscle spasms or tremors, insomnia or mania, and full blown panic. Ayurveda offers many specific recommendations in the days after birth to help comfort and restore balance.

One of the primary treatments for anyone experiencing a vata imbalance is abhyanga, the soothing oil treatment I learned at Vaidyagrama. While abhyanga is often translated as oil massage, a better translation is oil application. In Sanskrit, Abhy means “every” and anga means “limb” or “part,” referring to the application of oil to every body part. Massage is less important than completely covering the body, as oil has a direct calming effect on the tissues. Abhyanga effectively replenishes the buffer between the inside and outside world and quiets the nervous system.

While our plan was for Jeri Lynn to receive a daily abhyanga , we feel pretty accomplished when we fit one in every other day.  We leave the massage table set up right next to the changing table. I love doing it, knowing what an enormous difference it makes during this critical time. Jeri Lynn has said it is already restoring her strength and sense of reserve. We’ve only gotten Ian on the table once, but I hope to increase his time there too.

The second most important tool we’re finding to calm vata is establishing new routines. Jeri Lynn and Ian already swear by the sleep schedule they set for their two-year-old daughter.  When they are off by even fifteen minutes, they can feel it in her behavior and general disgruntlement. Routines communicate directly to the body and mind, creating a structure that helps everyone feel more in control and less anxious. Children are often more sensitive to the subtle movements of the doshas, and we would do well to take cues from them, knowing that our bodies are struggling with the same influences – we’re just more practiced at pushing through a sense of unease or feeling out of rhythm. We are trying to stick to the meal times they have already established, and new routines incorporating Marvel are already emerging.

My third focus in the past week, and my biggest joy, has been cooking. I feel so strongly about the power of food to heal and nurture, it has been incredibly satisfying to cook during this intense time. Food carries energy as well as nutrients, and the meals I’ve been preparing have been such a tangible receptacle in which to pour my love, knowing it would go straight to their cells and hearts. To calm vata, I’ve been cooking primarily warm, soft, moist, easily-digestible food like soups and stews, including the Ayurvedic wonder dish kitchari.

Another important part of our diet these days is ghee, which we put on everything. A form of clarified butter, ghee is an amazing nourisher – it boosts natural immunity, increases digestive power, lubricates all tissues, relieves and prevents constipation, calms vata and pitta dosha, and tastes like heaven. It is easy to make at home (try it!), so I have been keeping a ready supply on hand. Jeri Lynn gets a nightly cup of warm milk with powdered ginger and a spoonful of ghee.

Off to school

Stepping into this part of my sweet family has been an incredible inspiration for me. From my niece, Koruna, I have been learning courage. Not only has she gotten a new brother, she also started pre-school last week, just days after he was born. While her teachers confirm that she is having a good time during the day, each morning she has been anxious and tearful. But each day, she keeps putting one foot in front of the next. Her trust and courage in the face of her apprehension is so tender, it’s almost heart-breaking.

I have also been awed by my brother’s patience. While his wife recuperates, he has taken on the lion’s share of Runa duty – which he loves. It has been so touching to watch their relationship deepen overnight. Runa has been holding herself together incredibly well, but she has dissolved into angry explosions of tears and demands with a greater frequency than usual. My brother greets each outburst with the same steady, quiet patience. While not in the least surprising, it remains incredibly inspiring.

Marvel and his mama

From Jeri Lynn, I have been learning the depth of generosity that is possible even when one is completely spent. She continues to make room in her life (and in her bedroom) for people to come in and share their love with her family in such a physical way. From inviting me to be present at the birth, to inviting her neighbor’s children over hours after Marvel’s arrival, she just keeps opening the door wider. That generosity of self keeps rebounding, creating a loop of giving and receiving that fills a house up with warmth.

And Marvel. He’s teaching me to drop whatever I’m doing that’s so important, to sit still and be present with every fiber of my attention, to dip into the deep well of wonder that I tend to forget is our inborn gift. He is indeed well-named.

Recently I’ve been contemplating what exactly is good company? What qualifies someone (or something) as good company? To my mind, there are two categories: First are those with intrinsic goodness, those who embody integrity, kindness, honesty, respect. I think of this as empirical goodness, the definition of “good” that no one will dispute.

The second category I think of as situational or functional goodness, company who is “good FOR you” or good for a particular reason. These are the people who remind us of something valued or who inspire us to reach towards a worthy goal. They are good company because they serve a purpose for us. They help keep us on our chosen path in spite of distraction or temptation.

At the Parmarth Niketan Ashram, Rishikesh

Living in the quiet and peace of New Mexico for the past month, I have been reflecting on how much easier it is to maintain new routines when surrounded by a conducive environment. It’s easy to lose sight of your very good intentions or your rationale for doing certain practices when there is no mechanism to remind you of what you value. This fact is acknowledged in many spiritual traditions. Buddhists are guided to “take refuge” in the three gems: the Buddha, the dharma (the Buddha’s teaching), and the sangha (the community of fellow seekers). I love this idea, that we can actually find shelter and protection not only in the teacher and the teaching, exalted and lofty ideals at times, but also in the earthbound people like us who have chosen the same path – this is good company.

Having some unscheduled time has allowed me to delve into some books that have been on my list for a looooooong time.  One such volume is the hefty tome Hatha Yoga Pradipika, an ancient text on the practice of yoga. I was excited to come upon a verse titled, “Causes of Success in Sadhana.” Sadhana means spiritual practice and here refers not only to the postures of yoga but the meditative practices designed to move us towards a deeper sense of connection or self-realization. As anyone who has tried to meditate will attest, it can be hard work, so I was (and remain) open for pointers.

The verse gives six qualities or actions that make a practice strong: “Enthusiasm, perseverance, discrimination, unshakeable faith, courage, and avoiding the company of common people are the (six causes) which bring success in yoga” (chapter 1, verse 16i). Now, the first five are certainly worthy pointers, but that sixth one caught my attention. Claudia’s guru echoed in my head – not only are we advised to seek good company but to avoid certain other company, here identified as “common” (a fascinating term to attempt to define), a related but different aim.

I have watched my tendency to be polite, or my desire not to rock the boat, lead me to withstand company that is not “good” – not wretched or malicious perhaps, but not like-minded or inspirational. Spending time with people who do not share our goals, be they spiritual goals, health-oriented, professional, or behavioral goals, can dissipate our focus. A “common” person encountered at the corner store is no doubt harmless, but what about those people who hold consistent places in our lives who, in our heart of hearts, we know are not helping us live the life we want to live? Avoiding their company may be easier said than done. While I like to think my dedication is enough to move me forward, after some encounters with bad company, I do flail around a bit before finding my sense of excitement and direction again. Company matters.

Promising "monsoon" clouds gather over Santa Fe

Last weekend, I attended a yoga therapy workshop taught by my aunt Patti at High Desert Yoga in Albuquerque. A gifted yoga therapist and physical therapist, she described the yoga therapist’s role as walking into the unknown, accompanying your clients in the exploration of their injuries or shadows. As an exercise, she led us to explore one of our own problem areas with a partner.

I’ve had an ankle injury of unknown origin for over a year. It makes itself heard whenever I point my left foot to its furthest limit, so I’ve been avoiding that movement for quite awhile now. In this exercise, we were asked to move gently towards that injured part – and suddenly for me, all kinds of fear arose. I feared pain, I feared making the problem worse, I feared facing my body’s “failure” to heal. To avoid these fears, I had effectively cut off from that dark spot altogether. Frankly, I had no idea what was going on in there.

My partner Jill was undaunted. She asked questions of me, encouraging me to examine the flavor of the sensations in my ankle, the different sensations just before the pain kicked in, as well as the emotions I was feeling. She suggested minor changes in my movements, my breath, my thoughts, not because she knew what the result would be, just to explore, to learn with me.

By exploring together, we discovered that pressing down through my pinky toe pad while pointing the foot diminished the pain and increased my sense of support through the ankle. My fear had led me to cut off completely from the experience of my ankle, and thus from information that might help me heal. Jill simply brought a flashlight and pointed it in directions I was scared to see. Good company, I discovered, is willing NOT to know and patient enough to simply hold my attention to the present experience.

So often, those of us who step into the title of “teacher” feel we have to spread the light of knowledge. Here, I benefited from what I now think of as “the light of no knowledge.” It’s the light of companionship.

While keeping good company makes an individual great, being good company may very well make the world around us great.

Sunrise over Vaidyagrama

This morning as I watched the sun rise over New Mexico, I marveled anew at the wonder of this globe. We spin on our little axis through space, pulled in endless scheduled circles around a ball of fire amongst countless other rotating spheres passing in their own exact orbits. The celestial bodies that I gazed up at from Vaidyagrama are visible to me now, in their turn, from here on the other side of the planet. Watching them keeps me aware of the true scale of things.

Door to door, my trip home from India took a total of 44 hours: an hour-long tear-stained taxi ride, followed by four flights interspersed with 14 land-bound hours of layovers, capped off by a beautiful sunset drive through the deserts of New Mexico. I am already missing my dear friends at Vaidyagrama - AND it is a joy to be home.

My typical pancha karma attire - oily hair in a towel and at least three patterns below the neck.

My last week of pancha karma was dedicated to recuperation. All of the intensive treatments were over so now my body just got to soak in the strengthening herbal medicines, fresh foods, natural surroundings, and daily oil massages while it got strong again. My focus shifted from my body’s cleansing and re-balancing to that of my mind. There was almost no explicit guidance from the doctors on that aspect of pancha karma, but the very structure of Vaidyagrama itself points you towards reflection and increasing mental quiet. With all of my physical needs taken care of, I took it as a rare opportunity to reduce as much mental input as possible. Just as eating more food before the previous meal is digested results in a backlog and poor digestion, I realized I am constantly putting in more information before the previous installment is processed. My mental digestion would benefit from some fasting.

So for my last week at Vaidyagrama, I gave up the internet entirely, and – even more challenging for me – I abandoned all reading. No studying the ancient texts, no yoga books, no poetry, not even a “just for fun” novel. No input. Honestly, the prospect was more than a little unnerving.

When you sit with yourself for so long in this intense practice of stripping away, you can discover what you’re leaning on, what’s keeping you comfortable but not really vibrant. My brain is always working; even my mental “neutral” is pretty active. Those shifting gears create a certain amount of background noise that is somehow reassuring, the white noise of my brain. It was a shock to have nothing to take in, nothing new to process – no white noise. Suddenly other “noises” could be heard. It felt odd, but never boring, to go out to the porch with nothing in my hands to read. I watched the rain or the birds, or closed my eyes and watched my thoughts go by, wandering through the stacks of my memories and dreams.

At first, I expected that this would provoke an internal revolution. I kept watching for the revelations, a breakthrough to rock my perspective. Before long I realized that even that baited-breath watchfulness revealed a drive to accomplish something, to have some proof of time well spent. It is an insidious pressure. What I longed for, I realized, was to have NO expectations, nothing to defend or prove. Just to sit, and have that be enough. So I sat. And I have nothing to report. No analysis, no tidy landing place…. Just a quiet, humble relief.

How do you say good-bye to a community of teachers, caregivers and friends who have come to feel like family? The best solution I have come up with is not to – to start planning your reunion as soon as possible. As the taxi pulled away down the dirt drive, I waved to Dr. Ramdas, Lima, Rtu, Dr. Om, Dr. Aruna and the rest of the crowd until the bend in the road hid them from sight, and I began picturing my return.

I’ve now been here in my parents’ home in Santa Fe for one week, with several unscheduled weeks still in front of me. As my body continues to get stronger, the wealth of experiences of the last six months are percolating in the periphery of my awareness. It is said that the true effect of pancha karma is not felt until three months later, as the cells turn over in the course of their natural life cycles and the body is literally renewed. I am certain the same could be said about the effect of living  in a foreign land for six months. The seeds sown in this season will bear fruit in their own time.

At the Ooty Botanical Garden

In the meantime, I fully recognize the great luxury I am experiencing right now – no job to report to, no family to take care of, few bills to pay – and I am relishing my diminished interactions with the world for a bit longer. I know it will soon take effort and intention to gracefully navigate the demands that will resume. I have faith that my experience of life at Vaidyagrama will give me discrimination in choosing which strands I weave back into the fabric of my daily life.

What happens next for me? I will stay in Santa Fe for the rest of July and then make my way to my new home: Austin, Texas. Some of you may know my brother Ian and his wife Jeri Lynn, two of the most inspiring artists (and blog writers, incidentally) that I know. Their roots are deep in Austin, and I get more and more excited about joining them in creating our own village, right there up the road from Barton Springs.

My niece, Koruna, whose brother is due in August

I will set up shop as an Ayurveda consultant and yoga instructor, offering workshops and individual consultations to help clients find their unique sources of health and contentment in life. And I will remain open to the guiding spirit that led me so effortlessly through India, watching for my right path to emerge, the path with the true sense of calling and a sense of ease.

One unexpected joy I found in India was connecting with all of you here. I plan to continue writing here and sharing inspirations rooted in the rich earth of Ayurveda – ideas about community, nature, delicious food, healing, the gifts of yoga, the importance of beauty, and other roadside attractions. I hope you will continue to keep me company on this path. Good company, I have seen, is often the very best medicine.

The full moon over Vaidyagrama