Calling Ganesha: Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha #365Yoga

Ganesha (Photo credit: bandarji)

Last week, my meditation practice morphed into a mantra practice. I didn't sit with the intention of chanting "So Hum" the whole time I was meditating. It just happened. 

Afterward, it felt like it had been the right thing to do. I repeated it the following day, and the days after that.

Last Saturday, Lisa Devi, during a visit to the Adirondacks, led our New Moon Circle. She welcomed Ganesha, the Hindu elephant-headed god, with the chant "Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha." Ganesha is called at the beginnings of things, perfect for the new moon, to clear obstacles from the path ahead.

Yesterday, instead of "So Hum," my chant was "Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha." Again, I didn't intend it. It just came out. And, again, it felt right, so I repeated the chant today.

The Sanskrit phrase "Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha" means, basically, "Salutations to the remover of obstacles." "Ganapatayei" is another name for the widely-worshipped Ganesha. In addition to removing obstacles, Ganesha is known as a patron of the arts and sciences, and as the deity of intellect and wisdom. 

Why do I feel compelled to ask Ganesha to help me past the obstacles in my life? Perhaps this is part of the letting go I've been doing lately. I'm in the habit of doing too many things, taking on too much, and never asking for help because that felt like weakness. Putting those things that are holding me back into the hands of a deity with four arms and an elephant's head is a small step towards allowing myself some weakness, towards admitting I can't do everything myself. Giving your problems to God, to Ganesha, to the universe, or to whatever your sense of the divine, is the first step in twelve-step programs for good reason. It's very freeing to put obstacles in the hands of a higher power.

I'll send salutations to Ganesha until a new mantra arises or silence returns to my meditation practice. Meanwhile, thanks to Ganesha moving roadblocks from my path.

Connect with Fire: Candle Gazing Meditation #365Yoga

English: This picture shows the motion of a candle flame. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In honor of the summer solstice, we rebuilt and improved our backyard fire pit, then lit a big bonfire to honor the sun at its peak. Gazing into the fire, watching the flames dance and jump, reminded me of this simple candle-gazing meditation, which can be done anywhere you can safely stand a candle holder.

Find a place where you can sit undisturbed for a few minutes, either on a cushion or blanket on the floor or in a sturdy chair with your feet on the floor. Using a table or other props (yoga blocks or a stack of hardcover books work nicely) position a lit taper or pillar candle in a holder so the flame will be at eye level. You'll want to use a holder which will support the base of the candle and catch any dripping wax, but which won't block your view of the flame.

Find a comfortable seated position and close your eyes for a few moments. Bring your awareness to your breath. Breathe through your nose and lengthen your breath. Notice your thoughts, then let them float away. Notice when you feel centered and present to the flow of your breath.

Gently open your eyes and gaze at the candle flame. Focus your awareness fully on the flame, letting other thoughts drop away. If your attention wavers, bring it back without judgment. Begin to notice all the qualities of the candle flame. Notice the colors. Notice the movement. Become fully absorbed in watching the flame. Blink whenever it is necessary.

With your awareness steady on the flame, notice the thoughts flickering in your mind. Acknowledge any thoughts or feelings that arise, then let them go as you bring your attention back to the flame. Sit with the flame for five minutes, or as long as you are comfortable. Enjoy your connection to the flame.

When your meditation is complete, blink a couple of times, then close your eyes and notice your breath. Take four or five slow, deep breaths, then allow your awareness to return to the room. Open your eyes and return to your day. Be sure to blow out your candle!

A Clean Sweep

Tadley Broom (Photo credit: Flicktone)

This morning I grabbed my broom and swept my front porch, ridding it of slippery, wet leaves deposited by the daily rains we've been enjoying here in the Adirondack rain forest.

I like to sweep. For efficiency's sake I usually opt for the vacuum, but there's nothing like a good sweeping session to clear both dirt and my mind.

Brooms have a long history as instruments both of dust moving and energetic clearing. A twig or straw broom called a "besom" (pronounced "beezum") was used to sweep a space clean before a ritual. Often that sweeping was done without the bristles even touching the ground, to sweep away negative energy. Ancient handfasting rites (the precursor to weddings) might conclude with the bride and groom jumping over a broomstick, which represented hearth and home, to signify the start of their new life as a couple.

This morning's broom was not a besom; rather it was an ordinary broom meant for real dirt. That doesn't mean, however, that my sweeping experience was ordinary. There's something about the act of sweeping that centers me. The rhythmic "fwisk, fwisk" sound quiets my mind, like a repeating mantra or the ocean sound of ujjayi pranayama. By being present, even the act of sweeping the front porch becomes meditative.

Any household chore done mindfully can be grounding and meditative, but I think sweeping beats scrubbing the toilet for the opportunity to turn inward. Folding laundry is second, but the effect is ruined when I have to match socks.

I sadly retreated into the house this morning after I reached the bottom of the porch stairs. I do enjoy a good, clean sweep. As it's raining AGAIN, I'm sure I'll be out there again soon.

Awake in the Outdoors #365Yoga

Chalis Pond, North Hudson, NY

We are finally seeing spring in the Adirondacks. When my son and I went for a hike today the temperature was sneaking past 70 degrees and the sky was bright blue. We followed a short trail into a pond, then sat at the edge and watched tadpoles and baby fish play in the water.

My son is starting to experiment with creative writing, and is often trying to imagine settings for his made-up stories. While we sat by the water, I suggested he try noticing as much as he could about the place where we were, to get an idea of the details that make a setting imaginable for others. So we sat, and we looked, and we listened. We even smelled and felt.

How often do we get lost in our thoughts and overlook all the small details of where we are? How much do we miss? What would life be like if we took the time to stop and notice? What if we were truly awake to every moment?

Sitting by the edge of the pond, we woke up. We watched the water ripple in the breeze. We saw the bigger ripples left by surfacing fish and the v's left by water bugs skating by. We watched the light dance in the leaves of the trees. We saw birds and clouds above and below, reflections in the water. We took in the frayed edges of tiny leaves just uncurling from their buds.

We heard the songs of birds, some melodious, some chattering. We heard the muffled voices of two fishermen floating in canoes across the pond. We heard the splash when a fish jumped.

We felt the warmth of the sun and the cool of the breeze. I smelled pine and decaying leaves. My son smelled my deodorant. (I suppose that could have been worse.)

I struggle to meditate with my eyes closed, focusing on my breath. My mind wanders. But out there by the pond, open-eyed, I found the calm awareness that I look for on my meditation cushion. My meditation is to become fully awake, in the outdoors.

Unstuck: a 21-day yoga e-course to get you onto your mat

Announcing my very first yoga e-course! the 21-day get yourself onto your yoga mat and start moving e-course   Next session:  March 6 - March 26, 2011   Take this e-course if you want to: ~start (or jump-start) an oh-so-good feeling home yoga practice  ~meditate daily to improve focus and find your inner calm. ~climb out of your exercise rut. ~discover what motivates you to get on your mat. ~get moving! You will receive: +Unstuck emails in your inbox every morning +a new asana practice to try each day +daily meditation instruction and tips +thought-provoking journal prompts and exercises +two 30-minute audio yoga classes each week +yoga, fitness and nutrition information +email access to me throughout the course +an  invitation to our Unstuck online community +support and encouragement while you create a practice that can last a lifetime Sign up now and make a commitment to 21 days of getting on your yoga mat, being good to your body, quieting your mind and getting in touch with the most important person you will ever meet - YOU! Questions?  Contact Debbie at truenorthyoga@gmail.com While the yoga postures presented in this course are suitable for most people, you may need to modify or skip some postures due to certain physical or medical conditions. It is up to you to listen to your body and you will be responsible for your choice to practice or not practice the postures presented. It is recommended that you check with your doctor before beginning any new exercise program.

Ten Days of Zazen

Image via WikipediaWhen life gets busy, things like taking ten minutes for meditation tend to get skipped. Of course, it's when life is at its craziest that meditation helps the most. Sometimes you need to quote Nike and just do it.

Since I was feeling unsettled and, admittedly, had been neglecting my own yoga practice, I thought perhaps I should take the baby step of cultivating a regular meditation practice. The day I decided to give it a try I never got around to it. So the next day I did what any anal, schedule-driven Virgo would do - I put it on my to-do list.

(Remember the Milk is a really good online to-do list if you're like me and appreciate those kinds of things.)

The idea of Zazen, the Buddhist practice of just sitting, appealed to me. I'd been researching Buddhism online, on the off chance that there was a closeted group of Buddhists in the North Country I could hang out with and learn from (if they're here, they're well hidden), when I came across Treeleaf Zendo, an online Zen Buddhist Sangha (community). It's a great website. They have a nice meditation timer, a very welcoming forum where I can ask questions and a great video blog published on Shambhala SunSpace, part of the online home of Shambhala Sun magazine. Among the blog entries are 23 entries on "Zazen for Beginners." These ten minute talks cover the basics of sitting, from how to actually physically sit to what's going on in your mind during all this sitting.

For the past ten days I've been watching one of the videos, then just sitting for 10 minutes. It's on my to-do list, so I've made time. After 5 days, I started doing my morning chores faster so I would be able to sit before I left to teach my first yoga class of the day. (Today I wasn't quite finished so I folded some laundry during the video so I'd have enough time to sit.) You know what? I like it. Lots.

Of course, it's just ten days, not long enough to say it's a habit. I'm still learning, and will probably be learning for a long time, if not forever. But I'm excited because it feels right and makes sense.

In the chaos I call my life, that's saying something.

I'm back. Or, maybe, I'm not...

Image by sylvar via FlickrSometimes my yoga practice feels like a chore, like just another thing that needs to be crossed off my to-do list. I have to drag myself onto my mat and don't feel any different when I'm done.

Sometimes stepping onto my mat is like finally coming home after a long journey through a storm and climbing into a warm bed next to my soul mate. Yeah, it's that good.

I went through all the craziness of the past few weeks and then, one morning, woke up in a different place. When I got on my mat later that day, everything felt right. I flowed through the practice my body needed, not thinking at all about what I should be doing. When I stepped off my mat I felt very centered and calm. I was home again.

But I think someone redecorated while I was away.

The person I was last time I felt centered is gone. I am different. I have another storm's worth of experiences to ponder. I have learned new things. Heck, I even got a haircut.

Have you ever played with a pendulum? If you hold a pendulum over your palm it might swing wide from side to side or it might make small circles in one direction or the other. My mind feels like that pendulum, sometimes off-center and swinging wildly, other times making gentle circles, getting ever closer to the place where it becomes totally still. Perfect center, as long as you don't move the hand holding the chain. Or think.

I am approaching stillness with a new tool. I have been exploring Zen Buddhism and practicing Zazen, the meditative style of "just sitting". Trying to practice regularly, I have sat for 10 minutes a day for over a week. It's pretty challenging to just sit. My mind has a million things to tell me.

And every time I sit down the phone rings. Seems it's not only my mind with something to say.

Licked

Image via Wikipedia

This morning I was feeling very centered after my asana practice and decided to sit for a few minutes of meditation. My husband, who normally sleeps through my sun salutations even though my mat is right at the foot of the bed, was awake this morning and playing a game on his phone. He had the sound off, so all I had to deal with was the click of the keys. The dogs knew he was awake and joined him on the bed. So far there was nothing that I couldn't tune out for a short time, so I settled into easy pose, rested my hands on my knees and closed my eyes...

As I brought my awareness to my breath, I suddenly became aware of a new sensation - cold tongue on my hand. One of our dogs had gotten off the bed and decided my upturned palm was tasty. I caught myself before I shooed her away. Couldn't I practice mindfulness by focusing on the sensation of being licked?

I allowed the hand wash to continue, keeping my awareness on the feeling of dog tongue. I noticed it was rough and dry this morning. I felt the movement as it curled around fingers or flattened against my palm. I was aware of my hand as the object of the licking.

After awhile, she got bored and curled up on the floor in her own meditative style. (Eyes closed, breathing regular, but always mindful of the smallest sound that might indicate food is about to be put in her bowl.) I returned my focus to my breath for a few more minutes before starting my day.

If you've never started a meditative practice because you can't find ten minutes of peace and quiet in your day, ask yourself if absolute peace and quiet is really necessary. Unless you move to an ashram, chances are life will always be happening around your meditation. Learning to be calm and still in the daily chaos can be more beneficial than needing to escape to a quiet, dark room when life starts to get crazy.

Start now. Close your eyes and focus on your breath for one minute. Don't try to shut out the sounds, the thoughts, the feelings. Notice them, acknowledge that life is happening, then bring your attention back to your breath. Try again tomorrow, and the day after that. See where your meditation practice takes you.

Sometimes a Run is Just a Run

Image by See-ming Lee 李思明 SML via Flickr

Get a runner talking about running and he's bound to mention something called "the runner's high" or "being in the zone". Maybe others experience it differently, but when I get that high my running becomes effortless, as if my feet are barely hitting the ground, my mind goes clear and the time and the miles just fly by. It's a cool feeling.

Of course, not every run gives me a runner's high. Sometimes my mind is busy planning yoga classes, thinking of new blog posts to write, or trying to decide whether to turn around at this cross street or the next one. Other times I feel like I'm pounding the pavement, feeling every jarring footfall. If there's any pain, I try to stay in my body and see if I can adjust anything to make it go away. Every now and then nothing comes together and I walk home.

Does that mean I don't get anything out of those runs? Of course not. I am training for a triathlon. Every run in my training plan has a purpose and it's never to achieve a higher state of consciousness. Logging the miles is building endurance and (hopefully) making me run faster. Even the slow, torturing runs have value, although they may just be lessons in what not to do next time.

My meditation practice is like running. I may sit and not be able to settle down. I may fidget, unable to get comfortable on my pillow. My mind may chatter uncontrollably. Occasionally I find my meditative "sweet spot" and thirty minutes seem to disappear just as I've closed my eyes.

Once, my husband and I took a meditation class together. The class was held in a small room with no furniture and we all sat on pillows against the wall. Ten minutes into the meditation I was sound asleep, leaning against the wall. (I even snored.) Afterward I asked my husband if he got anything out of it. He said he had - while he was sitting there with his eyes closed he figured out how to fix our problem toilet!

Really, we both got something out of the class. The meditation teacher told me the thing I now tell my yoga students who drift off during Savasana, that sometimes what we need the most is a few minutes sleep. My husband's experience was also valid. In the quiet meditation room, free from distractions, his mind could finally work out the solution to a lingering problem.

Beginning yoga and meditation students, and some beginning runners, may be discouraged when they fail to achieve the activity's advertised state of bliss. It is this attachment to an expected outcome that does us in; not reaching the outcome is labeled a failure. We don't see the benefit in sitting uncomfortably for a few minutes, watching our minds run amok. We forget that just becoming aware of what our minds (or bodies) are doing is a great accomplishment.

By keeping at it, we may find our high. Or maybe we won't, and that's okay too. Sometimes a run is just a run.

An Earthy Meditation

A group of us enjoyed yoga and meditation by candlelight during last night's Earth Hour. I wrote this guided meditation for the group and thought I'd share it with you. Take a few deep breaths and enjoy!

Guided Meditation for Earth Hour

Close your eyes and allow your breath to flow naturally. With each breath, feel your body become more relaxed.

Imagine you are standing on a gravel road at the edge of a forest. In front of you are five stone steps down to a path that leads into the trees. You start down the steps. At the first step your body becomes completely relaxed. At the second step your mind quiets. On the third step you feel peace flowing through you. At the fourth step you know you are in a safe place. As you step onto the fifth and final step your vision becomes sharp and clear and the light seems brighter and the colors more vivid.

You follow the path into the trees, fully taking in everything that you see. You notice each subtle hue of the green leaves and the brown dirt. Here and there a yellow leaf left over from the fall catches your eye. The light filters through the treetops and dapples the path in front of you. You look up and see bits of blue sky between the tall trees. You see the varying textures of the tree bark, some smooth and some gnarled, knotted and rough. You notice tiny flowers on delicate stalks nestled against the root of one tree and you wonder how they came to grow there. Twigs and pebbles crunch under your feet. You feel a slight, cool breeze that rustles the leaves. You become aware of mossy smells and the singing of birds high above you and the buzzing of insects around you. You can feel life here.

You continue down the path, stepping carefully to avoid the small green plants which have sprung up between rocks. As you move deeper into the forest the light fades and the air becomes damp and musty. The path becomes softer beneath your feet. Moving on, you notice the sound of running water ahead and walk down the path toward the sound. Suddenly you step into brighter light and find yourself on the bank of a wide stream. You can see the sun overhead here and the sunlight reflects on the water. The stream is rocky and the water tumbles over the worn stones in a series of small waterfalls. The spring sun is melting snow in higher elevations and the water runs quickly by, carrying leaves, small twigs and a few water bugs over the rocks.

You sit on the damp, cool moss on the bank and watch the water flow by. As you watch, a small green lizard scampers onto a rock, then you move slightly and he disappears between the rocks. The sun is warm despite the breeze. You are filled with peace just being in this place.

A rustling in the trees on the opposite bank catches your attention, and you look up to see an animal emerge from the trees. What kind of animal is it? Let it be whatever first comes to mind. It sees you and moves cautiously toward the stream. You catch its eyes and it stops, watching you. You know you are safe here and do not feel fear, just awe at being this close to this animal. You have a clear, unobstructed view and can see it in detail. You can see the shape of its body, muscle and bone. You can see the shape of its feet, its tail, its jaw. You know there is power in that body, the power it needs to survive in the forest. You notice its texture – fur or scales or feathers or skin. You imagine what it would feel like if you could touch the animal. You can see its colors – not just the body colors but the color of its eyes. And you look into those eyes and feel a connection, and know this animal has a message for you. What is it telling you? What would this animal have to say? Perhaps it is just a message of mutual respect, perhaps it is something else. Let the message come to you. Trust that whatever message you hear is the right one.

You repeat the message to yourself a few times, wanting to remember it. Then you look down, breaking eye contact, and the animal turns and wanders back into the trees. You watch it go, grateful for the opportunity to see it so close and for the message it shared with you. Knowing your time here is done, you stand, turn away from the stream and walk back along the forest path, through the darkness under the thick trees. A few more steps brings you back to the place where patches of light illuminate the path ahead and before long you can see the stone steps.

You walk to the steps, taking one last look at the trees behind you, then put your foot down on the first step and start to climb. On the next step you become aware of your breath. On the next step you feel your body. On the next step you become aware of the room. As you reach the top of the steps you are back in the present, bringing with you the animal's message and the sense of peace you found in the forest. Take a few deep breaths before you move back into your day.

* * *

I've noticed that I am drawn to certain animals during times of stress, other animals when I am feeling introspective or down, and still others when I am happy. Sometimes, like last night, I will dream about an animal. Bear has been with me all day today, telling me to head into a dark cave and listen to my intuition for awhile. I should probably listen.

Negotiations

Image by tattoodjj via Flickr

All the hard work paid off. After only nine days on the market, we got an offer on the house. Now we have to see how the negotiations go. A bunch of people have looked at the house, so I'm hoping there will be other offers too.

This week I started to taper for my triathlon, reducing the time and intensity of my workouts as the race gets closer. I have been warned that tapering gets maddening when the race gets close. A rested body is ready to go, and you have to hold back and save the energy for race day. It sounds like a good time for meditation.