A Spirited Cassadaga Adventure

Cassadaga is a wonderful place, full of charm and history. The town is especially known for its large population of psychics and mediums, and has been referred to as “The Psychic Capital of the World.” To have that many “sensitive” people in the same place seems to raise the vibration, and I felt my own sensitivity heightened. 

The place buzzes with an energy that almost reminds me of Las Vegas - like you could stay up all night and never get tired. The gift shops are loaded with fun items: stones and gems that resonate with discernable energy signatures, new age books, jewelry, candles, incense, smudge kits, and curios. While looking around amidst the stones and other spiritual trinkets, I noticed a tube of poison ivy cream that didn’t seem to fit in, but I hardly gave it another thought. It was in the giftshop of the Cassadaga hotel, where we were staying. The hotel was built in 1894, and was beautifully preserved and quite comfortable. The front desk receptionist reported that the place is haunted with friendly spirits.

Soon after we arrived on Friday, we attended a tea leaves reading class, where we learned how to read tea leaves in order to forecast the future. Loose tea is used, and you actually get to drink the tea first, which is pretty sweet. High tea was already one of my favorite pastimes - with the finger sandwiches and the fine cheeses and pastries and scones and pate and champagne and good company (and tea). Add in the ability to forecast the future, and High Tea now goes to 11.

Reading tea leaves is not as mystical and mysterious as you may think. It mainly involves trying to discern what pictures and symbols you see in the loose tea left in your cup and saucer after you drink your delicious tea. It relies on your ability to hear your inner voice and connect with your inner wisdom, traits that yoga helps us tap into.

And yoga was a big part of why we were at Cassadaga. We had a yoga class Friday night after our tea leaves, and another Saturday and Sunday morning. The yoga focused on connecting to the energetic and healing aspects of the practice so as to hear and perceive this inner wisdom more clearly. Cassadaga seemed the perfect location to explore these more subtle aspects of yoga.

And the grounds of Cassadaga are beautiful. There are several parks and preserved natural areas ripe for exploring. On Saturday, I was determined to find a good climbing tree. After spotting a good one and just about having one foot up the tree already, K pointed out that there was a vine growing around it that looked suspiciously like poison ivy. I slowed my approach for a second but I wasn’t going to be stopped. This was a really good climbing tree. The tree was magnificent and totally worth the climb. I came down and looked at the pictures K had Googled on her phone and saw that the vines did look pretty much exactly like poison ivy. We also realized that we had both already walked through other suspiciously-poison-ivy-looking vines about five minutes prior to my tree climb. 

Oh yeah, and wasn’t there poison ivy cream in the gift shop? No worries, we washed our legs and arms off in classy fashion in a park bathroom. Wikipedia told us that not everyone exposed to poison ivy experiences a reaction, so we decide this is clearly a mind-over-matter, yoga-healing-type situation. So far so good.

The seance was Saturday night. It was the highlight of the trip. K and I were lucky enough to meet some super-interesting people who attended a similar seance with the same medium, Mary Hayes, earlier in the day. It was funny how we met them - we basically took over the front porch of their hotel room, not realizing it was a private front porch. They were super sweet and welcoming. They explained that you tell Mary your name, and the name of loved one that has passed that you wish to connect with. They advised that you should have a question ready to ask your loved one. They were caught a little off-guard by this part, because they weren’t sure what to ask, so we appreciated the heads up.

When the time for the seance arrived that evening, 26 of us squeezed into a cozy room on the second floor of the old hotel. When Mary walked in the room, the energy shifted. To me, she glowed. Her eyes were wide and beautiful; her glance was filled with a deep knowing, and I felt like I connected with her on an extrasensory level when I looked into her eyes. Mary is not like the mediums you might see on television. She generally doesn’t come up with crazy facts that only great Aunt Mary would know in order to prove to you that she is really talking to great Aunt Mary. Nor does she become possessed with the spirit of your loved one like Whoopi Goldberg in “Ghost.” It was far less spooky, and felt much more spiritual.

Everyone of the 26 of us (we were told we were an especially large group) got about five minutes to ask her questions. She explained that she speaks to lost loved ones indirectly, essentially by channeling angels that talk to the loved ones directly, and she relays the message to the audience. She closes her eyes while she channels and her affect changes, which definitely heightens the feeling that something other-worldly is going on.

The experience was extremely uplifting, and there was the distinct sensation that she was “in the divine flow” while channelling. It was the same feeling I have had while in the presence of living saints and masters, like Amma and Paramahansa Prajnananda; everything they say seems personally applicable to everyone listening, even when they aren’t talking to you directly. I could see how the advice from loved ones she was giving to others were applicable to my own life.

When it was time for her to talk to Ma, it was heart-tugging when Daniel came through. The message caught me off-guard a bit, when Daniel stopped Ma’s question just to voice and acknowledge how truly tenderhearted she is. I looked at her and saw that she IS tenderhearted. It was as though he said it specifically for my benefit, and it filled my heart with gratitude. I can finally see the tenderhearted goodness of my mother. It took me awhile to get here. I see that I am the one that has changed, finally able to perceive reality without the filters of the past that have colored my vision for so long.

I also see that I am attracting tenderhearted souls into my life; and I am now able to see how many sweet, sensitive, and amazing people I have around me. The Cassadaga Adventure highlighted for me the wonderful people I have in my life. For the longest time, I wasn’t able to see that; I saw heartbreak and anger and meanness in my relationships. I am thankful for those rough times, as it was the heartbreak and suffering that brought me to a place where I can now see the sweetness. And I don’t doubt that it is me that has changed; I am able to see more of the beauty in the world around me. I came across this quote this morning, and it touched me and made me think of the lesson that Cassadaga illuminated; that our rough patches make room for the sweetness, and that there is always hope:

This trip was certainly enlightening. We didn’t see any of the friendly spirits in the hotel, but it does feel like each of us was touched by spirit during our stay.





Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Adventures in Italia: Episode III

We arrived in Rome Saturday evening and we had two-and-a-half days to explore the City before heading back to America on Tuesday morning. Rome is wonderful. It reminds me of New York City; it is fast-paced with metro subways and it bustles with life and the arts. There are street musicians and piazzos (plazas) where people sit and drink and eat and enjoy life.

Yet, mixed in with the modern is the ancient. Really ancient. Thousands of years old ancient. In Rome, you might see a high rise next to monument built in 60 AD. In fact, you will probably see many.

Often when I travel outside of America, I catch myself acting very American. In America, we eat big and we act big and sometimes we piss people off. Whenever I do something “American,” like eat an enormous amount of food or do something accidentally discourteous while traveling, I’m reminded of the song from “Team America, World Police”: “America, Fuck Yeah.”

In Rome, I found this happening quite a bit. Whenever it did, the song would play in my mind (or I would sing it lightly to my American entourage) and I would snicker.

On Sunday morning, our first morning in Rome, Ma, E and I set out with the intention of seeing the Vatican Museum and St. Peters’ Basillica, both in Vatican City. It is bittersweet for Ma and me. Worse for her than me - being here without my dad and brother - and especially being here without my dad. She and my dad had always planned to come here together, but weren’t able to make it happen during his lifetime. My dad was a very strong Catholic; he even traveled down to Miami to see Pope John Paul II when the Pope came to the U.S. in the eighties. He would have loved this place, and it was hard for both of us to be here without him.

I woke up Sunday morning with a sense of adventure. I had the thought almost immediately upon waking: “Today is going to be a great adventure.” It was directly followed by the thought, “but I’m with my ma today, is she going to be up for an adventure?” I countered that thought with another: “Why not? Who am I to decide she isn’t?”

Ma probably wouldn’t disagree that she is a little less adventurous than me, but she would also say that she is certainly up for an adventure. We had heard from several people that we should arrive early to the Vatican in order to beat the crowds, but things don’t always work out as planned.

Our day started with us deciding to try to find the closer metro subway station, the one we had been warned was more difficult to find than the one by the Colosseum. We had easily found the one by the Colosseum the night before. But warning me that something may be difficult is like daring me to do it. So we set out, and we had some difficulty finding the closer metro station. I wouldn’t say we were “lost” because I had a pretty good idea of where we were the whole time. At the same time, I was not completely sure where the metro station was.

I battled with the voice in my head about taking this path – we should have gone toward the easier metro station by the Colosseum – then we could arrive early at the Vatican as recommended and beat the crowds. Now we would be late and probably miss everything. A different voice in my head reminded me that everything happens for a reason and is all part of the divine plan. Maybe we were meant to go this way for some other reason that just wasn’t obvious at the moment. Look, there is a nice park we wouldn’t have seen if we hadn’t gotten lost.

At that moment, Ma said, “We should have gone the other way.” I tried the tactic that had worked with brain voice: “If we had gone the other way, we wouldn’t have seen this nice park that we can take E too tomorrow when we have more time.”

“Yeah but what are the chances you will be able to find it again?” Ma said. We were both agitated. I did notice and found it amusing for the first time that Ma often says out loud the things my brain voice says to me in private. That might be why she gets to me like no one else can. I don’t think I’m alone in this phenomenon. The voice of our parents often becomes the voice in our heads that we psychologically battle with, and we often have strained relationships with our parents in real life as a result. Maybe she was right, maybe we wouldn’t find it again. At the same time, I couldn’t let go of the belief that this was all part of the greater plan and that today was going to be an adventure.

Sometimes the reason things happen the way they do isn’t obvious to us right away, or maybe not even for many years. I used to live my life with the belief that bad things happen and that it just means that life is shitty. But that isn’t my way of being anymore. I’ve looked the worst-case scenario in the eye. I’ve suffered greatly; and yet, I’m always able to look back and see how things were exactly how they needed to be. I’m always able to look back and see how, in the very least, those awful things that have happened have gone into the formula of making me who I am. This isn’t false optimism; it is a sense of divine peace that comes with living through and surrendering to extreme suffering and realizing that we are here on Earth to learn. If nothing else, we are here on Earth to learn.

We finally found the metro and got on. By now it was well past 11:00 AM and we were clearly late for our “planned” arrival time. I saw my reflection in the window of the metro. Have you ever seen your reflection and not recognized yourself? When I looked up, I didn’t see me, I saw my dad. I saw his features in my face. My reflection smiled back at me - but it wasn’t my smile; it was my dad’s. Upon seeing this, my face lit up with happiness, and I saw that my reflection was me again smiling happily at just seeing my dad. Instantly, I felt that my dad was here with us, and that getting on the metro at this moment was exactly what was supposed to happen. It was his way of reassuring me.

We took the metro to the Vatican exit and got off. We had a choice: head toward the museums or to St. Peter’s. Now it was noon and we were clearly late for either choice. So much for getting there early and beating the crowds. We walked with the flow and half-heartedly decided to go to St. Peter’s in the middle of Vatican Square, both Ma and I doubting it was the right choice. We got to the square and we saw the huge lines to get into St. Peter’s church. Ugh. Maybe we should have gone to the museums.

The square itself is beautiful and it was quite a sight just to be there. We noticed that people were piling in toward the middle of the square while leaving lots of room on the outside. Weird. I thought I heard someone say something about a camera and assumed a crew was filming something and that was why people were pushing toward the center: to get on camera. Maybe they were filming a movie about the Pope?

Then, all of a sudden, the crowd started cheering. We looked up and, I shit you not, there stood the mother-f-ing Pope, up high in a window waving down to the crowd. We had arrived at EXACTLY the right moment. We were getting to see the f-ing pope. THE POPE. The main guy for the Catholic church. And not just any Pope, but Papa Francesco, already beloved by the people for being a man of the people. Holy crap. My dad would be freaking out.

And I realized that my dad may have had a hand in orchestrating the whole thing. If we hadn’t taken the long way, we would have gotten here early and missed the Pope. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face or the thoughts of my dad. He must have been in on it the whole time. Must have. Ma was crying too. She also realized the perfect-ness of arriving at that moment, and we both were overjoyed. Even E was excited at seeing the Pope and brought it up many times during the rest of our stay in Rome.

The Pope gave a 20 minute-or-so homily in Italian, and it was projected onto huge monitors in the square. That must have been what the cameras were for. I was able to make out a few words about living life rightly and helping others. At several points people clapped and cheered in response to things he said. At one point, I could make out something he said about blessing America. When he said, “America” the crowd clapped and cheered. I thought, “America, Fuck-Yeah!”

It reminded me a lot of my experience with meeting Amma. I could feel that Papa Francesco, like Amma, vibrates on a higher spiritual level, and that just being there in his presence was a gift. We were receiving darshan from a living saint. How amazing is that?

We left the square, still riding on high, and tried to make it to the museums. Turns out they were closing early. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. We went for some sliced pizza instead and I got the best pizza I’ve had in Italy all trip: pesto with mushrooms and truffle oil. Food porn for sure:

We did end going to the museum the next day and we got to see the inside of St. Peter’s Basillica. We also got to see The Colosseum, The Pantheon, The Spanish Steps, and Trevi Fountain, among other ancient sites and ruins. They were all pretty cool, but nothing beat seeing Papa Francesco. I found that visiting the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum reminded me of going to Ikea: you have to zig-zag through the entire place just to get there, and you are never sure when you will get to the glorious end. Of course, the end in this case is the Sistine Chapel, not the holy cash registers.

The Sistine Chapel was spectacular, and St. Peter’s is more grand than any church I’ve ever seen. It may be the most grand church on Earth. We enjoyed more amazing food, and some divine gelato, before heading back to American early Tuesday morning.

And then...

My husband and my luggage was lost!

Hurray, we don’t have to carry it!

It is crazy the amount of luggage karma we’ve had going on this trip. We decided that we had both metaphorically lost a lot of “baggage” during our Italy Adventure. Old emotional baggage. Oh Universe, you silly Girl.

Altogether, this has been a life-altering trip, culminating in our splendid stay in Rome. I expect when I travel to India for my yearly yoga sojourn for it to be life-changing and soul-searching, but Italy sort of snuck up on me. I’ve learned much about myself on this trip, and challenged some of my most deep-seated thoughts and beliefs. Those thoughts and beliefs were boxing-in and filtering my reality so that I was not able to perceive all of the glory happening around me. I’ve let a lot of that go, and things certainly seem rosier and relationships a little easier. Oh, how I want to get back to Rome!

They say that when you throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, you are destined to return to Rome. I’ve ensured my swift return by doing just that.

Arrivederci, Italia! Until we meet again…

Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Adventures in Italia, part due!

The second half of our Italy trip is now well underway. We have been so busy I’ve barely had a chance to take a breath, much less to sit down and write. We are staying in Massa Lubrense, a small town south of Naples on the Amalfi Coast. It is centrally located and off the beaten path, so it is perfect for us and far less tourist-y than other nearby areas, like Sorrento.

Our Luggage Strikes Back

During the four-hour train ride from where we were staying at the yoga retreat outside of Salento into Naples, we cursed ourselves for bringing so much luggage. We were forced to pile it up between our seats for the train ride to the point we couldn’t even see each other or sit comfortably. At one point E cried out, "where is mommy?!" I peaked my head over and responded so he could see i was sitting directly across from him.

I couldn't help but be amused by our predicament: the first part of our trip all we wanted was our luggage after it was lost by the airline and now we wished we didn't have it at all. I noticed how quickly we forget and succumb to the mental game of lamenting our situation; whether the situation is not having the luggage or having too much luggage doesn’t seem to matter. Our minds like to find something to bitch about.

Our Fabulous Villa

The luggage dilemma was quickly over and we made it to our villa, luggage and all. Our villa may be the most amazing place I have ever seen. It is gigantic; and the view is spectacular. We are up high on the cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea:

When we first got here it took me more than a day to get my bearings in the house. There are hidden terraces, a secret bathroom cave, artifacts, curios, knick-knacks and antique furniture around every corner. There is also a perfect room for our yoga practice; its upstairs on the third floor with an attached terrace overlooking the sea. The room has a distinct resonance different from the rest of the house, and feels like it vibrates after our morning practice sessions.

Just down the street there is an authentic local market with fresh smoked mozzarella stuffed with olives and peppers, countless other cheeses; fresh fruits like strawberries, cherries, apples, plums, watermelon, cantaloupe; beautiful home-grown vegetables; fragrant herbs; and local wine for 4 euros a bottle.

Eat, Eat, Eat

Up the road there is a little restaurant with the most amazing antipasto. We’ve eaten there twice already. The first time Rob and I went alone. The waiter speaks no English and didn’t give us a menu. He started talking to us in fast Italian and all we could make out was “antipasto.” We nodded our heads and said, “Si.”

First came a plate of bruschetta and I looked at Rob and said, “could this be it for the antipasto?” Before I could get the words out if my mouth, two large plates were placed on our table - one filled with fresh octopus and the other with squid combined with walnuts, cilantro and celery. I think in my whole life to date I’ve eaten less squid or octopus than I have this week. They are my new favorite foods; the seafood here is so fresh and delicious. After we dove into the squid and octopus platters, assuming that must be it for the antipasto, out came an enormous plate of fried Italian specialties - arancinis (which are large fried balls stuffed with rice and cheese), fried potato-cheese-and-prosciutto-stuffed-thingys, along with bread-crumby fried eggplant deliciousness. Then came an assortment of smoky vegetables - zucchini, peppers, butternut squash, green beans and more. Last came two giant hunks of mozzarella topped with prosciutto. It was never-ending and only 12 euros each. I forgot to mention the wine - I asked for "vino" and again the waiter muttered something in fast Italian and I nodded. I guess I ordered the large because we got nearly a gallon of red table wine delivered to our table. It was heaven - rich and slightly sweet on the tongue.

We went back again the night before last and ordered the antipasto again, this time feeling like we knew what we were doing. (Sort of). The antipasto was similar to our first experience but this time it came with indescribably-delicious fresh mussels instead of prosciutto and mozzarella. We decided that agreeing with whatever our fast-talking waiter suggested worked the first time, so why mess with success? In addition to the antipasto he brought us house-made flat pasta with clams and mussels that was divinity on a plate. We followed that with cannolis and cake for dessert and a drink he called “limocini” - not to be confused with limoncello (he corrected us when we suggested it was limoncello) - which is apparently homemade as well. From what we understood, it was grain alcohol with lime and one sip of it made my lips numb. Here is a picture of our antipasto:

It would be an understatement to say that I am eating the best food of my life. Liz Gilbert’s “Eat” portion of “Eat, Pray, Love” is no joke. Italy is fabulous for food.

So far from our home base in Massa Lubrense we have traveled to Sorrento, the island of Ischia, Positano and Amalfi. We have eaten our way around each of these places and experienced food like none I’ve experienced before. Oh, and they are each fabulous sites to see, too, of course. I’ve just got a one-track mind.

Still more adventures to come...


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Adventures in Italia!

We have finally arrived in Salento, Italy, which is in the heel of the Italy “boot,” south of Brindisi. (Actually, we arrived Saturday night but our luggage didn’t make it until last night (Monday). More on that in a minute). We are staying at place called Yoga Salento at Agricolo Samadhi. It is a beautiful, idyllic location, dedicated to bringing in yoga teachers from all over the world for yoga retreats.

We are surrounded by at least a thousand olive trees, an organic farm where all sorts of herbs and vegetables are grown - sage, lemon balm, lavendar, rosemary, chicory, wheat, squash, zucchini, eggplant, lavendar, and mint, to name a few - along with fruit trees, and enumerable scented wild flowers.

Our yoga space couldn’t be more perfect. This place, like a few others I have encountered in my life - including an Ashram in Homestead, Florida and the Rainforest Retreat in Coorg, India - buzzes with the primordial hum of nature. Imagine hearing what almost sounds like the inside of a conch shell vibrating constantly and faintly beneath the other more usual, perceptible noises like cicadas, birds, and human conversation. The yoga room buzzes more loudly with this sound than other areas of the retreat center and invokes a warm, peaceful feeling deep in my being.

So far during each of our practice sessions - both morning and night time sessions - we have been joined by one or more of the feline yogis that inhabit this place. They are the sweetest and they really seem to be innately attracted to yoga - like they can sense when yoga practice is occurring and couldn’t possibly resist the urge to join in. The other night one joined our yoga practice and laid on Jessi’s pillow with her after tratak (a candle gazing meditation):

Getting here was a bit hectic. We had three flights, the second of which was delayed enough to cause us to miss our third flight from Rome to Brindisi. No big deal as we were able to take another flight out of Rome only a few hours later. But, in the meantime, there was a bit of a mix up with our luggage. Lost luggage is the sort of inconvenience that happens often enough, though I must admit I got nervous when we showed up at the luggage lost and found to see that the printer they were using to aid in processing claims was the old-school, tractor-feed paper printer - remember the kind with the holes along the margins? I hadn’t seen one of those since grade school when it was hooked up to our classroom TRS-80. (Bonus points if you remember either of those!)

But it was really difficult to get upset about it given our surroundings, the amazing home-cooked organic meals, and the wonderful hospitality of the retreat center. Rather than get upset, we went with the flow and headed into town to buy a few items to hold us over until our luggage arrived. Warning - the clothing sizes in Italy (and probably most other countries) are much different than in America, where people are generally larger. Each of us bought large or extra large clothing only to find that they fit more like a “smedium” that we had to sausage our fat American asses into. Here is a picture of my hubby in his "large" Mickey Mouse shirt bought here in Italy:

And I didn’t have most of my toiletry supplies - including all my usual hair removal products. The result was reminiscent of the scene from the “Black Light Attack” 30 Rock episode where Liz Lemon reveals, “Everyone, I'd like you all to met Tom. Tom Selleck. He's my mustache.”

But everything happens for a reason, right? We might not have ventured out those first few days without the luggage issue, and we would have missed that humorous adventure which turned into a great blogging opportunity, along with some of the best gelato we’ve had thus far. And its hard to say in what other ways that missed luggage has and will continue to “butterfly effect” our lives. The theory being that even the most minute happening - like a single flutter of a butterfly’s wings -  sets off a ripple effect that ultimately can dramatically alter the outcome of our lives. And in my world, it is always all good.

And speaking of Tina Fey (Liz Lemon), in her autobiography, “Bossypants,” she explains how she treats her life according to the principles of improv, which can be very useful in situations like these. She explains that the key to good improv is a concept called, “yes, and...”

What it means is that the actors go with the flow and accept what a co-actor in the scene has set up without contradicting it; while at the same time adding something to it. For example, in my improv scene if my partner says, “this is a really nice ice cream parlor we just walked into,” it would be against the principles of improv to say, “this isn’t an ice cream parlor, it’s a skating rink.”

Instead, an appropriate response would be, “yes, this is a nice ice cream parlor and don’t you like the climate here on Mars?” In other words, you accept what your partner has set up and add something to it.

I am finding this principle very applicable to living a life where we simply love what is; a life lived in accordance with the principles of yoga. That is, when things happen, we don’t try to contradict reality by pretending it is not happening or by telling ourselves and others that it “shouldn’t be” happening. Instead, we accept what “is” first, and then add on from there. In the context of our luggage, we would say, “Yes, our luggage was lost. And we are going to take this opportunity to experience a portion of our trip without our luggage. We will journey into town to buy some items, and we will see what adventures might ensue.”

Many of the ancient yoga and Zen masters advocate this approach to life, along with more current spiritual teachers like Byron Katie (“Loving What Is”) and Eckhart Tolle (“The Power of Now”). It is an approach that surely makes life more contented and fun; it also makes it easier to see the good in the bad and avoid the tendency to limit our perception by only seeing what we expect to see. By that I mean, if we believe that the lost luggage is an example of how everything always goes wrong, we box reality in and we tend to perceive other things “going wrong” all around us. Whereas if we leave space for the possibility that the lost luggage was meant to happen as part of the larger interwoven tapestry of life where everything works out for the best in the end, we are open to experiencing the good that comes along with the bad.

All that being said, it was sure nice to get our luggage back. I found it amusing that my 3-year old was completely oblivious to the difference between having our luggage and not having it, even though he is capable of grasping the concept of “lost.” To him, all of life is bliss regardless of what is going on. Sure, he has moments of unhappiness or anger; but those moments quickly dissipate as he returns to his natural bliss. I think that bliss is a natural state for all of us; not meant to simply be enjoyed by children. Being here this week is sure to help us connect to that bliss, so that we might start to enjoy more of it for ourselves.

Stay tuned, more adventures to come!



Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Our Stories

Sometimes our past stories make it difficult to function with people in our lives. I’ll give an example. A common interaction of stories is the story of “Unrequited Love” interacting with the story of “Everyone Wants Something from Me.” We can usually see how both stories developed through no conscious fault of the parties involved, though it is not necessary to understand the origin of the stories. For our purposes, let’s assume the story of Everyone Wants came about from a past of childhood trauma which created a belief that people always want something from me and I cannot live up to their expectations. The story of Unrequited Love coming from a past of childhood heartbreak which created a belief that people will never live up to my expectations and will ultimately reject me.

These two stories interact in a self-fulfilling prophecy: The story of Everyone Wants attracts the story of Unrequited Love and vice versa; the participants live out their stories in the context of their relationship. UL starts believing that maybe UL gives too much and doesn't receive the same; that EW must not really love UL; that there will be a rejection. EW starts believing that UL wants too much; that EW cannot live up to UL’s unrealistic expectations. UL pushes to test EW’s love or EW pulls back to test that there is not too much expectation. UL tells the story of how UL loved EW too much, and the result was rejection and heartbreak. EW tells the story of how UL wanted too much, how EW felt judged and unable to meet the high expectations.

Who’s story is right? When each party continuously tries to convince the other party that their story is right, they will ultimately create such resentment in their relationship that it becomes impossible to get along with each other. Ultimately, both stories are right from the limited perspective of the storyholder. Moreover, both stories are completely wrong from the perspective of the neutral observer.

It is sad that most of our failed relationships come about because of an interaction of stories, based upon the past, usually formed in childhood. The energetic pull to stay involved in the story is sometimes overwhelming. Not all stories are EW v. UL. I would guess that most are probably some form of a victim/perpetrator story finding another, energetically compatible victim/ perpetrator story with whom to share the drama.

Fortunately, when we start to see a pattern to our interactions, we are more likely to wake up. Like we have discussed before, if you start feeling like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, living out the same drama over and over, it is usually a clue that an internal shift is in order. Simply setting the intention to stop feeding the drama is a huge start. Be easy with yourself as you awaken from the story, as it can be difficult to break free of the old patterns. Try to watch what happens with alertness as if you were a student in the school of your life. Eventually it comes down to seeing things from another’s perspective and letting go of the need to be right. What does it even mean to be “right” when there are always many versions of the same story? You will only ever be absolutely right from your own limited perspective anyway.


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

What is the point of Ashtanga Yoga asana practice?

So I found out what the pain in the butt I’ve been experiencing is all about: I tore my sacrotuberous ligament, which is located in my left ass-al region. My chiropractor, Dr. Daniel Moroff (which is his real name as he was happy for me to quote him), said that he is seeing quite a few yoga overuse injuries lately. He reminds us that “awareness is key.” That is, we need to be aware of our bodies, our state of mind, our energy level and generally what is going on in the world of “us” before we push our bodies to do the same thing today as we did yesterday in our asana (yoga posture) practice simply because that is what our minds tell us we “should do,” or that we are “lazy” if we don’t do it. Furthermore, Dr. Moroff advises that alignment is extremely important. It turns out that I suffer from what he actually referred to as "J-Lo Syndrome," where I have a tendency to arch my back and tilt my pelvis forward. This puts strain on the thoracic spine, and makes injury to the hamstrings and glutes more likely.

Let me step back a moment. When I realized, with Dr. Moroff’s help, that I likely tore my butt-ligament about six months ago while working on perfecting Upavista Konasana, at first I heard the judgment about myself from meany-voice: “You shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard in your asana practice. You need to learn to back off and stand firm and tell your teachers when your body tells you you can’t do something today. Why aren’t you listening to your body?! If you had just listened to your body this wouldn’t have happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

And that is where I have to stop myself. Who is to say what would or would not have happened or what was supposed to happen? And who is to really say what caused it? I saw Diana, an brilliant energy healer I treat with, earlier this week. She helped me reconnect to the gratitude I have for my body. It has really absorbed the brunt of my healing path. My healing path has been through the heart. And when my heart was too afraid to open, it was my body that stepped in and absorbed the pain. Now that my heart is more open than ever, it is almost like my body is saying to me, “Is it ok for me to express some pain now?” And my body has surely found its voice.

Diana says that my butt-ligament tear has to do with repressed grief over the loss of my father over two years ago. I'm open to that idea, though it wasn't on my radar until she mentioned it. Funny how we think we are done grieving and there can still be some held up emotions waiting for release. I’ve always sensed that as Ashtanga Yoga practitioners, we have a sort of inclination toward working out our karma in our musculoskeletal system. The practice tends to attract type-A personalities, myself included, and we may be more inclined to push our physical bodies to the limit. 

The practice started out very physical for me, and I'm sure that was part of my initial attraction to it: I was getting my body into better shape than it had been in for years. Nonetheless, as my practice has deepened, I've realized that the physical part isn't really what it is about. The beauty of Ashtanga comes from its nonphysical attributes. The use of breath, bandhas (energy locks), and drishti (fixed gaze points) is what transforms the practice from physical exercise to an energetic, chakra-opening, mind-clearing meditation practice. Guruji, the late teacher of Ashtanga yoga responsible for its popularity in the West, is oft-quoted as saying that without these subtle aspects of the practice, yoga is “just a circus.”

It is clear that while Guruji taught a “standardized” system of asanas, he very much tailored the practice to the individual. See “Guruji: A Portrait of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois Through the Eyes of His Students” (217, 244, 256, 310). With such a large student body, out of necessity the practice has become more standardized; though Guruji was always aware of the individual student’s needs. Still today, in the wake of Guruji’s absence, it is important that we look at our individual needs, and avoid falling prey to an idea of what our practice “needs to be” (i.e. our full asana practice) everyday.

Because the practice really is individualized, and because the practice is about so much more than the physical asanas, sometimes there are apparent “inconsistencies” in the way things are taught. For example, I often hear teachers allege that pranayama should not be taught until one has advanced to the second series of Ashtanga asanas. This makes me sad, because pranayama is an important part of yoga practice, and can be particularly useful on days when our body demands a shorter asana practice. Despite the assertion from some teachers that pranayama should wait, Guruji himself made no such blanket assertion in his book, “Yoga Mala.” Instead, he said only that the practice of pranayama “requires that the preceding step – namely asana – be practiced as well.” (18). He also said that pregnant women “should abstain from doing asanas” but should nonetheless practice pranayama, in apparent conflict with the assertion that pranayama should only be practiced after one is advanced in asana. (27).

Further, at conference in Mysore, which is led by Sharath Jois (Guruji’s grandson) once a week, I’ve personally witnessed Sharath teaching alternate nostril breathing, a basic pranayama, to an entire room full of students of all different levels. Also at conference, I've noticed students getting caught up in the physical part of the practice; asking questions about the difference between the way the specific physical postures were once taught and how they are taught now; or undermining and questioning Sharath's judgment for teaching something different than it was taught by Guruji. To do so completely misses the point of this practice, which is not about the asanas. It is about becoming joined with our higher selves; of realizing the Divine in every breath, in every form, in every other creature we encounter. It really is about become the best “me” a person can be; to live in a state of total unity with our higher selves. And it is about the constant practice of yoga, not the constant practice of asana.

As Sharath said, “[t]he real meaning of yoga is to get self-knowledge about our inner Self, realizing what we are.” See “Guruji: A Portrait of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois Through the Eyes of his Students,” (187). And in his book, “Yoga Mala,” Guruji defines yoga as “the way of establishing the mind in the Self” and “the means to the realization of one’s true nature.” (5). Guruji further explains in "Yoga Mala" that yoga must be practiced at all times, and does not limit it to practicing asana six days a week:

In other words, whether working, sleeping, eating, playing, or even enjoying intercourse with one’s wife – that is, during the three states of experience, namely waking, dreaming, and deep sleep, and in all objects – one should think of the Supreme Self at all times. (12).

Thus, while Guruji was obviously a proponent of asana practice, it is clear that the “constant practice” of yoga to which he refers is not limited to asana practice; but rather, it is the devotional, bhakti yoga practice of turning all of one’s thoughts to the Divine. In other words, it is an inner practice of spiritual self-realization, not a physical practice of acrobatic-like postures.

Guruji’s senior students that were interviewed in the “Guruji” book also understood that the real point of Astanga goes beyond the physical postures. Many of them spoke about the importance of the subtle aspects of the practice: breathing, drishti, and the bandhas. For example, Dena Kingsberg said, “Drishtis direct the gaze to a soft focus and we listen to the even sound of the breath. This rhythmic repetition of movement becomes familiar and soothing and the mind slips away into the space between thought. Then the practice becomes a moving meditation, an invitation to stillness.” (290).

Moreover, Guruji himself stopped practicing asana around the age of fifty (50). Different reasons are given in the “Guruji” book for why he stopped (motorcycle accident, son’s death, etc.). Regardless, even though he stopped practicing asana, he continued to practice the real practice, the real yoga, of aligning himself with the Divine: “I think he reached a stage where he could let go of the asanas because he was beyond that. He had the prayers, and his attitude toward us suffices. That was his practice. It was to help us and make us advance.” (Brigitte Deroses, “Guruji”, 248). Another senior student, Tomas Zorzo, poignantly pointed out in “Guruji” that focus on the asanas and the ego’s desire to achieve new asanas can result in injury, and really does nothing toward the ultimate goal of yoga as divine union:

Asana practice should not be our goal. Having asana as the goal is often the reason we injure ourselves. If we don’t respect our nature, our body, our physical nature, and we want to do asanas that are difficult because we compare ourselves with others, because we want to do marichyasana D in order to reach navasana and our hip doesn’t open and we try to force ourselves into poses. This also applies to teachers. We think it is important to put the student in an asana and then we hurt the person. To me, the asanas are just the expression of the flexibility of the person. The goal is not asana, we use asana as a tool to attain flexibility and strength. But we have to respect the body. If that tool doesn’t work, we maybe need to adjust the asana a little bit, or maybe wait until the student is ready. We have to realize that we will not reach enlightenment by being able to sit in padmasana...We need protection. Guruji used to say, “You take slowly.” This “You take slowly” is very important. (271).

It is a paradox: Ashtanga Yoga is asana-based; yet if we become too caught up in the asanas we can hurt ourselves and ultimately miss the true point of this yoga. I’ve noticed that I push myself harder when I practice in a shala-setting, whether it be here in central Florida or in Mysore, India. It is hard to say whether it is just my natural tendency to push myself harder in public or it is the group dynamic of having multiple type-A-push-themselves-type-people all in the same place, all sharing the same energetic vibe. Maybe it is a combination of both. Yet I really enjoy practicing yoga with a teacher in a shala surrounded by my friends, so a balance is needed. Moreover, while pushing myself may be part of the problem, alignment was also a big factor, and there were energetic factors as well. Now that I now and have awareness, another strain is a lot less likely. I’ve resolved to ease up on myself and to be more verbal with my teachers and unashamed and unafraid to let them know when my body dictates the need for a shorter asana practice.

But what does a shorter asana practice look like? How does the knowledge that “physical asana is not the point” translate into our daily asana-focused yoga practice? To me, it means being able to do an “alternative” asana practice on days my body wants it. And to do so does not fly in the face of the great Ashtanga tradition and lineage. As discussed above, Guruji was acutely aware of the individual needs of his students. In fact, he has been quoted as saying that the sun salutations and three closing lotus postures are a good minimum asana practice. See “Guruji,” (101). In addition, in her recent inspiring blog about the postpartum return to asana practice, Mary Breeding talks about practicing only suryanamskara (sun salutations) and the three closing padmasana (lotus) postures as a way to reaclimate to the practice after childbirth. She quotes Sharath’s new book where he says,

Committing oneself to the practice of suryanamaskara and the final variations of padmasana is an appropriate starting point for most practitioners. They are especially therapeutic and can bring many benefits. Always remember to work slowly and overtime your practice will develop. Perfection cannot be attained overnight.

Hence, on days when my body is hurting or injured, my asana practice may be simply a few suryanamaskaras and the three lotus postures. Another great practice is just to do the standing postures, followed by the three lotus postures or more of closing depending on how my body is feeling. Or half of primary - I usually think of marichiasana D as the halfway point. Regardless of what my asana practice may look like on a “rough body day,” my focus is on connecting to my energetic body; to feeling my body from the inside; to uniting with the creative, primal energy of mulabandha, and perceiving it move up and down my spine (or staying still if that’s what it wants to do today); to listening to my breath; and directing all my thoughts that bubble up during my practice to the Divine. I have found that the practice is my greatest teacher, and it teaches me through my body. David Swenson said in “Guruji,” “the ultimate guru is the practice itself. The teacher’s duty is to introduce the student to the sadhana [focused spiritual practice], then to help them carry on with that.”

Today, my butt and my body are hurting, so my asana practice looked different than it does when I'm at "full capacity." I’m sure the full moon yesterday is also adding something to the mix. I practiced alone today, and my practice involved an unexpected but well-received release of grief over my father brought on by a random song (seems Diana was right); pranayama; meditation; and the suryanamaskaras and lotus postures. That was exactly what my ass needed today. Literally.

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