I heard a quote recently that went something like this: "Your body lives in the past, your mind lives in the future, and yoga joins your body and mind in the present." Except I think it was a little more beautifully put. The quote has echoed in my thoughts constantly over the past few days. I've returned to this quote over and over: when my knee pops as I'm walking; when my mind races to plan all I need to do before I go on vacation, I think of how true the quote really is.
It's a constant challenge for modern life to live in the present. As yoginis and yogis, we can find that fusion of body and mind on the mat. But where does that mindfulness go when we're off the mat? For me, it still seems to evaporate as fast as any moisture on a hot dry Australian summer day. How can we harness that mindfulness cultivated on the mat and express it in our daily lives? Practice, of course.
Little pieces of practice we can do anytime, anywhere: A moment of peace and breathing on the train on a stressful day; A stop for a freestyle free-standing yoga pose when a stretch is needed; A quiet thought or meditation in the office to bring the mind and body together.
I'm certainly not enlightened. I don't have all the answers. But as I practice mindfulness on and off the mat, I'm noticing more and more changes in how I react to things. I notice people who look uncomfortable in their skin, and I respond by sending them thoughts of compassion. I notice myself running for a train when I know there's another in a few minutes , and I respond by slowing down and offering compassion to myself. I notice learning in my yoga students, and I respond by offering joy and friendship out to the world.
And most crazily, last Friday, I drove an hour and a half to have a root canal, went through the pain of the root canal, had my car break down, waited for a rescue van, waited for a second van to come fix the car, paid several hundred dollars, got home several hours later than I thought... and I smiled and joked through the whole thing. Two repairmen that came to my rescue separately commented on how happy I seemed throughout disasters. And I realized they were right. I wasn't worried about the work I was missing out on doing, the yoga class I wouldn't make it to; I was accepting the situation, making the best of it, and being fully present in the place that I was in.
These instances of mindfulness and peace are not continuous. But the fact that I can even recognize these instances is proof of mindfulness in my life. Proof that didn't exist before. So, I offer my scientific mind this proof: practice, both on and off the mat, cultivates the ability to be mindful in my daily life.
And so I return to practicing my breath, my meditation, and the joining of my mind and my body.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Body/Breath over Mind
I'm a thinker. I've always been a thinker, which is probably why I spent gazillions of years in school. The phrase "mind over matter" resonates with me; I know I can do anything if I put my mind to it. And I feel I've proved it several times. But what happens when I'm in my yoga, and I need to have my mind take the back seat, allow my breath to take over, and let my body experience itself through my practice? Well, sometimes my mind gets in the way.
And so that has been one of my greatest challenges: listening to my body, feeling what is happening, experiencing it as it is, and being at peace with these things. I feel that I've made great strides over the past 10 months. I've been able to notice more when my mind is over-thinking. I've taken steps to be more present in everything I do. I've begun to try to live in the fullest version of myself, offering my most heartfelt self to my life and those I encounter.
But there are still times when my mind just won't shut up; when all I can do is listen to my mind rationalizing, explaining, and planning. Which is probably one of the reasons I've been so drawn to yoga: when I found the peace that I could experience in my breath, that's when I was really hooked; I had no trouble creating a regular practice and making more and more time for yoga. But sometimes, even in my practice, my mind keeps taking over.
Tonight I took a class with Kelly where she suggested that our bodies had way more wisdom than we knew (as she's finding through her pregnancy right now!); in fact, that our bodies had infinite wisdom. I internalized that thought and consciously tucked my mind in my back pocket for the class. I let my body take over, as my breath flowed through it. I experienced the class. Twice during the class I got nervous about a pose and began to lose it. But I was able to immediately return to my breath, feel my body, re-hide my mind, and go back to the practice.
My mind was so tucked away that I didn't even notice it was quiet until I got on the train after the class. I was sitting on the train, looking for my phone to call Billy and tell him I was on my way home, when my mind started working again. And I was like WOAH! What is going on? And then, I realized that I had been at peace. And it had even lasted 15-20 minutes after class. It had seemed so easy cheesy. Body over mind. Or, I suppose, breath over mind.
And so I go back to practicing. Trusting my body. Quieting my mind. Not so easy for a thinker, but I know it's possible. There's samadhi on the other side of that rainbow.
And so that has been one of my greatest challenges: listening to my body, feeling what is happening, experiencing it as it is, and being at peace with these things. I feel that I've made great strides over the past 10 months. I've been able to notice more when my mind is over-thinking. I've taken steps to be more present in everything I do. I've begun to try to live in the fullest version of myself, offering my most heartfelt self to my life and those I encounter.
But there are still times when my mind just won't shut up; when all I can do is listen to my mind rationalizing, explaining, and planning. Which is probably one of the reasons I've been so drawn to yoga: when I found the peace that I could experience in my breath, that's when I was really hooked; I had no trouble creating a regular practice and making more and more time for yoga. But sometimes, even in my practice, my mind keeps taking over.
Tonight I took a class with Kelly where she suggested that our bodies had way more wisdom than we knew (as she's finding through her pregnancy right now!); in fact, that our bodies had infinite wisdom. I internalized that thought and consciously tucked my mind in my back pocket for the class. I let my body take over, as my breath flowed through it. I experienced the class. Twice during the class I got nervous about a pose and began to lose it. But I was able to immediately return to my breath, feel my body, re-hide my mind, and go back to the practice.
My mind was so tucked away that I didn't even notice it was quiet until I got on the train after the class. I was sitting on the train, looking for my phone to call Billy and tell him I was on my way home, when my mind started working again. And I was like WOAH! What is going on? And then, I realized that I had been at peace. And it had even lasted 15-20 minutes after class. It had seemed so easy cheesy. Body over mind. Or, I suppose, breath over mind.
And so I go back to practicing. Trusting my body. Quieting my mind. Not so easy for a thinker, but I know it's possible. There's samadhi on the other side of that rainbow.
Monday, September 20, 2010
marathon meditations
i ran a marathon yesterday. i was feeling good, proud, happy, achieved, ...and a little stiff today. i talked to my sister this morning during our weekly skype yoga session about the race, and she told me that she feels like she runs a marathon everyday. she teaches preschool.
we all run marathons every day, don't we? whether it's working long hours on a project; racing against a deadline; or just feeling the pressure to achieve something that seems impossible. i practiced a million methods of positive thoughts while running the marathon, from "i can do anything!" to "my shoes are magic and have a special force that propel me forward!" to "if i finish this in under 4 hours, i never have to run another one!" and, of course, "i'm wearing my sister-superhero sash; i can just fly to the finish line!"
i talked to my sister about these things, and about a lovingkindness meditation, to offer that kindness back to herself and to help in her feelings of compassion and happiness. at the end of our practice this morning, we practiced a lovingkindness meditation from this month's Yoga Journal that says "friendliness toward those who are happy; compassion toward those who are not; equanimity toward all."
all day i thought about the meditation we shared, and tried to keep practicing it throughout my day. on the train on my way to teach yoga tonight, i began reflecting back on what got me through the race, and how i can use those same techniques in life.
i took these thoughts with me to the yoga class i taught tonight. i used the example of my sister's "marathon" and my own as the struggles we encounter every day to set an intention for mindfulness for the class: mindfulness we could use off the mat to combat stress, anxiety, and self-doubt. we began class by practicing mindfulness, and i offered gentle encouragement to return to these thoughts throughout class. amazingly, i saw my class learning and listening today. at one point, we were on our bellies resting after a reminder of mindfulness, and i offered the 45 students an opportunity to kick it up--to take an optional vinyasa if they were feeling it. not a soul moved. there was peace, rest, and beautiful stillness. i was in awe at the energy, focus, and mindfulness we had created during our practice.
at the end of class, i used the mindfulness meditation from Yoga Journal this month that focused on the stability of the individual through swirling thoughts: a mountain surrounded by clouds and storms. upon breathing in, we meditated on being the mountain; upon exhaling, we meditated on the stability we possessed. i felt the synchronicity and harmony of a class in tune with themselves and each other as we meditated and closed. it was beautiful!
on the way home from my yoga teaching tonight, i was posting about and reading all the nice wishes on my wall related to my marathon--heartwarming and truly an example of others showing "friendliness toward those who are happy." i felt blessed to have friends that can give such beautiful offerings. seeing this outpouring of "likes" and comments on my status updates set a great example for me.
my day full of reflections on marathons, meditation practice, experiencing beauty and accepting it from friends, ...and making it through a marathon of a day of my own... prove to me that marathons are constantly thrown at us. and that we can probably meditate our way through any of them.
we all run marathons every day, don't we? whether it's working long hours on a project; racing against a deadline; or just feeling the pressure to achieve something that seems impossible. i practiced a million methods of positive thoughts while running the marathon, from "i can do anything!" to "my shoes are magic and have a special force that propel me forward!" to "if i finish this in under 4 hours, i never have to run another one!" and, of course, "i'm wearing my sister-superhero sash; i can just fly to the finish line!"
i talked to my sister about these things, and about a lovingkindness meditation, to offer that kindness back to herself and to help in her feelings of compassion and happiness. at the end of our practice this morning, we practiced a lovingkindness meditation from this month's Yoga Journal that says "friendliness toward those who are happy; compassion toward those who are not; equanimity toward all."
all day i thought about the meditation we shared, and tried to keep practicing it throughout my day. on the train on my way to teach yoga tonight, i began reflecting back on what got me through the race, and how i can use those same techniques in life.
i took these thoughts with me to the yoga class i taught tonight. i used the example of my sister's "marathon" and my own as the struggles we encounter every day to set an intention for mindfulness for the class: mindfulness we could use off the mat to combat stress, anxiety, and self-doubt. we began class by practicing mindfulness, and i offered gentle encouragement to return to these thoughts throughout class. amazingly, i saw my class learning and listening today. at one point, we were on our bellies resting after a reminder of mindfulness, and i offered the 45 students an opportunity to kick it up--to take an optional vinyasa if they were feeling it. not a soul moved. there was peace, rest, and beautiful stillness. i was in awe at the energy, focus, and mindfulness we had created during our practice.
at the end of class, i used the mindfulness meditation from Yoga Journal this month that focused on the stability of the individual through swirling thoughts: a mountain surrounded by clouds and storms. upon breathing in, we meditated on being the mountain; upon exhaling, we meditated on the stability we possessed. i felt the synchronicity and harmony of a class in tune with themselves and each other as we meditated and closed. it was beautiful!
on the way home from my yoga teaching tonight, i was posting about and reading all the nice wishes on my wall related to my marathon--heartwarming and truly an example of others showing "friendliness toward those who are happy." i felt blessed to have friends that can give such beautiful offerings. seeing this outpouring of "likes" and comments on my status updates set a great example for me.
my day full of reflections on marathons, meditation practice, experiencing beauty and accepting it from friends, ...and making it through a marathon of a day of my own... prove to me that marathons are constantly thrown at us. and that we can probably meditate our way through any of them.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Balancing Change
The world is constantly changing. Nothing is the same as it was last year, or even as this morning. This is one of those things that is true, whether or not I want it to be, whether or not I admit it on most days.
I like to be in control. I plan what minute I’m going to wake up, how many minutes it takes me to shower and pack my bag, how many minutes to walk to get coffee on the way to the train station, and, as soon as I’m at the station, I start planning the tasks I’ll cross off my list at work that day. I rarely leave things to chance. Sometimes it’s easier for me to pretend like I’m in control and that I can dictate what will happen in my life, and when. But, when things go off-plan, which happens every day, it is hard to deal with the disruption if I am trying to control everything.
In yoga, I often prefer my own practice or teaching to another’s class, because I’m in control of what we’re doing and at what pace. I’ve been learning, though, through my yoga, to accept what is. When I think I have the energy or the strength to do something, and I can’t (for whatever reason), I’ve learned to let go of my control, my preconceived expectations, and roll with it. I try to attend other classes at least once a week, to force myself to practice the discomfort of being in a class led by someone else: out of control.
Dealing with this in my yoga practice has significantly affected the way I deal with hang-ups in my life. I’m much more able to accept unexpected events than I was before I began a daily practice. Delving further into yogic teachings and readings, I find myself comforted by the idea of constant change. Even though things are changing, there is some continuity—things are CONSTANTLY changing.
Our breath is constantly flowing. Our blood is constantly moving. Our life force is constantly pulsating. Without these constant changes, we wouldn’t be alive.
If we need change so much, and if it is constantly surrounding us, then why is it so hard when we experience a schedule change, a body change, a haircut? Meditating on the constant change we’re surrounded by has begun to help me accept these sometimes seemingly radical changes in my day-to-day life. Gradually, I’m noticing the acceptance become easier. I felt really sad on Sunday, though I didn’t really know why. Even though I felt really low, I found myself experiencing it and accepting it for what it was, knowing it would pass. Even though I didn’t feel good, I knew that my experiences and feelings would change. I’ll feel better, and then I might not; it will continue to change.
After writing notes on this blog on the train, but before typing it out, I read an article in Yoga Journal online about balancing control and lack-of-control in our yoga practice. As has so often happened to me this past year, I felt a moment of awe. The article was dealing with the same thing I was writing about, was offering ideas similar to mine, and I felt a strong sense of connection to the rest of the world. A gorgeous example of some out-of-control beauty falling into my controlling lap. I’ll smile and go with it. For now, until it changes again.
I like to be in control. I plan what minute I’m going to wake up, how many minutes it takes me to shower and pack my bag, how many minutes to walk to get coffee on the way to the train station, and, as soon as I’m at the station, I start planning the tasks I’ll cross off my list at work that day. I rarely leave things to chance. Sometimes it’s easier for me to pretend like I’m in control and that I can dictate what will happen in my life, and when. But, when things go off-plan, which happens every day, it is hard to deal with the disruption if I am trying to control everything.
In yoga, I often prefer my own practice or teaching to another’s class, because I’m in control of what we’re doing and at what pace. I’ve been learning, though, through my yoga, to accept what is. When I think I have the energy or the strength to do something, and I can’t (for whatever reason), I’ve learned to let go of my control, my preconceived expectations, and roll with it. I try to attend other classes at least once a week, to force myself to practice the discomfort of being in a class led by someone else: out of control.
Dealing with this in my yoga practice has significantly affected the way I deal with hang-ups in my life. I’m much more able to accept unexpected events than I was before I began a daily practice. Delving further into yogic teachings and readings, I find myself comforted by the idea of constant change. Even though things are changing, there is some continuity—things are CONSTANTLY changing.
Our breath is constantly flowing. Our blood is constantly moving. Our life force is constantly pulsating. Without these constant changes, we wouldn’t be alive.
If we need change so much, and if it is constantly surrounding us, then why is it so hard when we experience a schedule change, a body change, a haircut? Meditating on the constant change we’re surrounded by has begun to help me accept these sometimes seemingly radical changes in my day-to-day life. Gradually, I’m noticing the acceptance become easier. I felt really sad on Sunday, though I didn’t really know why. Even though I felt really low, I found myself experiencing it and accepting it for what it was, knowing it would pass. Even though I didn’t feel good, I knew that my experiences and feelings would change. I’ll feel better, and then I might not; it will continue to change.
After writing notes on this blog on the train, but before typing it out, I read an article in Yoga Journal online about balancing control and lack-of-control in our yoga practice. As has so often happened to me this past year, I felt a moment of awe. The article was dealing with the same thing I was writing about, was offering ideas similar to mine, and I felt a strong sense of connection to the rest of the world. A gorgeous example of some out-of-control beauty falling into my controlling lap. I’ll smile and go with it. For now, until it changes again.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Happiness Levels
i've been reading the dalai lama's "the art of happiness" and working on creating a higher baseline level of happiness. while i do consider myself to be pretty happy, i get frustrated and upset pretty easily, so i think that it's worth my time to work on upping my baseline levels.
i'm obsessed with the book, its ideas, and am constantly spouting it now, even though i'm only a few chapters in. i find so much resonance in it. the dalai lama talks about letting go of feelings of frustration, guilt, shame, jealousy, etc., because they only further negativity in yourself and then are fed back to the world. by focusing on creating your own happiness (which he claims is totally possible), you can respond to others with compassion.
i've been exploring some of these issues through my yoga, as that was the first way that i found to personally create happiness. yoga is the only way i've ever found to calm my crazy mind or to be completely happy with my body. through the daily practice of yoga/breathing, i have found this intense connection to myself/my body, and i'm more able to connect to things around me. and i am more able to focus on things and people in my life, like billy, and be fully present when i'm with him.
my yoga practice has been blossoming, but i still struggle with how to incorporate yoga throughout the rest of my life. for example, when i take the train each day, i feel pangs of anger as people shove past me, or elbow me in their haste. i think things like "what's wrong with you?! look where you're going!" but as i've been reading "the art of happiness" i've been able to shift my responses. as i got off the train this morning, and was shoved away from the door, i thought "we're all trying to get where we're going. we're all in a hurry." i noticed the change in my response, from anger to compassion. i felt compassion for everyone's hurry, and i felt connected to all of the other people on the train.
i get stressed every day, and i can't change the world. but i can change my outlook ... and i think that can actually be done pretty quickly. the dalai lama is right: we all want to be happy: treating others with compassion allows that happiness.
i'm obsessed with the book, its ideas, and am constantly spouting it now, even though i'm only a few chapters in. i find so much resonance in it. the dalai lama talks about letting go of feelings of frustration, guilt, shame, jealousy, etc., because they only further negativity in yourself and then are fed back to the world. by focusing on creating your own happiness (which he claims is totally possible), you can respond to others with compassion.
i've been exploring some of these issues through my yoga, as that was the first way that i found to personally create happiness. yoga is the only way i've ever found to calm my crazy mind or to be completely happy with my body. through the daily practice of yoga/breathing, i have found this intense connection to myself/my body, and i'm more able to connect to things around me. and i am more able to focus on things and people in my life, like billy, and be fully present when i'm with him.
my yoga practice has been blossoming, but i still struggle with how to incorporate yoga throughout the rest of my life. for example, when i take the train each day, i feel pangs of anger as people shove past me, or elbow me in their haste. i think things like "what's wrong with you?! look where you're going!" but as i've been reading "the art of happiness" i've been able to shift my responses. as i got off the train this morning, and was shoved away from the door, i thought "we're all trying to get where we're going. we're all in a hurry." i noticed the change in my response, from anger to compassion. i felt compassion for everyone's hurry, and i felt connected to all of the other people on the train.
i get stressed every day, and i can't change the world. but i can change my outlook ... and i think that can actually be done pretty quickly. the dalai lama is right: we all want to be happy: treating others with compassion allows that happiness.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Ready or Not
As a teacher, I want my classes to experience what I experience from my personal yoga practice. I think this is a universal yoga teacher feeling, and seems simple enough, but is probably the loftiest goal one could imagine. My friend and co-teacher Sarah asked me for advice on getting college students to relax, like, really relax, in a yoga class. When I read her question, I smiled to myself, remembering experiencing this frustration while teaching. And then I smiled again, remembering myself as a student just a few years ago.
How do you make someone relax? The easy answer is, you can't. Until someone is ready, they're not ready. Just a few years ago, I would've walked out of a class that wasn't dynamic or sweat-based. I would've laughed at the thought that I wasn't getting the full benefits of yoga. And I probably ignored several teachers' instructions to relax.
In fact, I went to a class this morning that was sooooo slow, I found myself really struggling to stay present. In a 75 minute class, we did about ten poses. And most of the time was spent getting into each pose, with only a few breaths once we were completely in the asana. I ended up really enjoying the class, though it wasn't what I'm used to, nor was it what I expected. Mostly, I was struck afterward with my progression of my practice. I did it! I stayed through the whole class! I stayed present and committed to the experience! I'm finally ready to explore myself and my practice.
But if a student, or class, isn't ready, that doesn't mean you can't try to get them ready. My main point is that teachers can't take all the responsibility for their students' practice. We can only lead and offer what we have.
I think one good suggestion for teachers is to be patient and to keep repeating things class after class. I remember saying to an instructor after a class "I loved that cue you used; it really helped me move further into that pose," to which she responded, "I always say that cue; you just weren't ready to hear it before." I walked away thinking, "woah." But it's completely true: students will hear things as they're ready to, and we can't force them to hear things before that time.
Okay. So, other than breathing and progressive relaxation, how can we help people center themselves? (Sarah's question.) I think that providing visualizations works wonders. It can be really hard to focus and center yourself by concentrating on breathing when you're new to yoga. I have found that students really respond to mind-pictures, though. One of my recent favorites is to guide students to picture an old ghost town (a la the wild west). I then ask them to picture dust blowing through the town, to imagine their mind as that town, the dust as a visual representation of their breath, and that as any tumbleweeds, or troublesome thoughts, blow into the picture, to let the wind-breath ease them back out of the picture.
Guiding through pictures gives the mind an easy focus point, something that can fall away as students progress in their yoga practices. But give them (us) time. We'll hear when we can.
How do you make someone relax? The easy answer is, you can't. Until someone is ready, they're not ready. Just a few years ago, I would've walked out of a class that wasn't dynamic or sweat-based. I would've laughed at the thought that I wasn't getting the full benefits of yoga. And I probably ignored several teachers' instructions to relax.
In fact, I went to a class this morning that was sooooo slow, I found myself really struggling to stay present. In a 75 minute class, we did about ten poses. And most of the time was spent getting into each pose, with only a few breaths once we were completely in the asana. I ended up really enjoying the class, though it wasn't what I'm used to, nor was it what I expected. Mostly, I was struck afterward with my progression of my practice. I did it! I stayed through the whole class! I stayed present and committed to the experience! I'm finally ready to explore myself and my practice.
But if a student, or class, isn't ready, that doesn't mean you can't try to get them ready. My main point is that teachers can't take all the responsibility for their students' practice. We can only lead and offer what we have.
I think one good suggestion for teachers is to be patient and to keep repeating things class after class. I remember saying to an instructor after a class "I loved that cue you used; it really helped me move further into that pose," to which she responded, "I always say that cue; you just weren't ready to hear it before." I walked away thinking, "woah." But it's completely true: students will hear things as they're ready to, and we can't force them to hear things before that time.
Okay. So, other than breathing and progressive relaxation, how can we help people center themselves? (Sarah's question.) I think that providing visualizations works wonders. It can be really hard to focus and center yourself by concentrating on breathing when you're new to yoga. I have found that students really respond to mind-pictures, though. One of my recent favorites is to guide students to picture an old ghost town (a la the wild west). I then ask them to picture dust blowing through the town, to imagine their mind as that town, the dust as a visual representation of their breath, and that as any tumbleweeds, or troublesome thoughts, blow into the picture, to let the wind-breath ease them back out of the picture.
Guiding through pictures gives the mind an easy focus point, something that can fall away as students progress in their yoga practices. But give them (us) time. We'll hear when we can.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Meaning of Life
Yes. I'm blogging on the meaning of life. Easy cheesy.
Martine and I have added some readings to expand our yogic knowledge and deepen our discussions on yogic philosophy. The first book we read was "In the Company of the Wise" by Swami Sivananda Radha. Throughout the book, she talks about the lessons she has learned from her teachers. She also talks about the lessons she has learned about incorporating yoga into a western life. The main lessons that I took away from the book were related to how I could incorporate yoga more fully into my life.
Each time I read the parts of the book, whether it was on the train, bus, or in my bed, I felt that I was connecting back to myself and my purpose in life. My favorite part of the entire book is when she said "By the time Dadaji had finished talking I had learned another lesson: no matter where we are, it is our duty to remind people of the purpose of life" (p.92). What I found most interesting about that sentence is that she either assumes that the reader knows the purpose of life, or she has intentionally left it out to allow more room for the reader's exploration. Either way, that sentence had the most impact on me than any other in the book. I thought to myself, do I have an answer for that question? Do I really know what I'm doing here?
And, funnily enough, I found an answer hovering just below my consciousness. I thought, yes, I do have an answer. I decided that my answer was, "to make life better for others." To me, that answer made immediate sense, and felt right. As I thought about it over the next couple of days, I felt happy with that answer. And, even more strange was that I had someone ask me what the meaning of life was within 24 hours of reading that. I felt these little pieces of my life coming together, I felt that the world was sending me messages, and I felt that my yoga has really become more entrenched in my life.
Martine and I have added some readings to expand our yogic knowledge and deepen our discussions on yogic philosophy. The first book we read was "In the Company of the Wise" by Swami Sivananda Radha. Throughout the book, she talks about the lessons she has learned from her teachers. She also talks about the lessons she has learned about incorporating yoga into a western life. The main lessons that I took away from the book were related to how I could incorporate yoga more fully into my life.
Each time I read the parts of the book, whether it was on the train, bus, or in my bed, I felt that I was connecting back to myself and my purpose in life. My favorite part of the entire book is when she said "By the time Dadaji had finished talking I had learned another lesson: no matter where we are, it is our duty to remind people of the purpose of life" (p.92). What I found most interesting about that sentence is that she either assumes that the reader knows the purpose of life, or she has intentionally left it out to allow more room for the reader's exploration. Either way, that sentence had the most impact on me than any other in the book. I thought to myself, do I have an answer for that question? Do I really know what I'm doing here?
And, funnily enough, I found an answer hovering just below my consciousness. I thought, yes, I do have an answer. I decided that my answer was, "to make life better for others." To me, that answer made immediate sense, and felt right. As I thought about it over the next couple of days, I felt happy with that answer. And, even more strange was that I had someone ask me what the meaning of life was within 24 hours of reading that. I felt these little pieces of my life coming together, I felt that the world was sending me messages, and I felt that my yoga has really become more entrenched in my life.
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