“Why follow me to higher ground?/
Lost as you swear I am.”
Do you have a guru? Want one? Need one? Are you one? Ha! To whom? Many of us have people whom we admire. Hopefully we strive to be admirable, but not too, too attached to that adulation. Aparigraha, or non-attachment, is a tough one for us capitalistic united-statesians, ‘specially those of us around in the 80s, aka the Me Decade. (Shout out to my old department chair who gave that as the definition of estadounidense. Technically it’s a synonym for American, sorta…more like: “United States citizen,” but what a mouthful! Spanishdict.com or wordreference.com are your friends; G**gle translate is not, TYVM. If ya know, ya know.) I digress…now back to your regularly scheduled yogic programming…
Many Americans in particular worship at the altar of greenbacks, lettuce, floss, Benjamins. Or perhaps it is at the feet of musicians, rappers, sports stars, or other more figurative rockstars with multiple commas in their salaries, entourages, and no-flash-photography, please, and absolutely-no-autographs. Whom do you admire? Perhaps examine why. In Yoga-with-a-capital-y-land, one thing that comes up often is how we’re all subject to Māyā, or illusion. Is it better to take advice from and listen to the priest who hasn’t sinned AT ALL, or the, uh reformed, so-called former sinner who knows just what you’re going through because they’ve been there, man? Who has more clout? Or perhaps best to buy a mirror & look at that dude. (i.e. yo self). Side note: who’s seen the 1990 movie “My Blue Heaven” with Steve Martin? Go watch & come back. I’ll wait 🙂 What if the one whom we are following, literally or figuratively, by rhapsodizing or throwing money at and hanging posters of, is just as unsure as we are? Maybe clout belongs to the lout, and we need to move on, grow up, and go within. Divest of that autograph, take down the poster, spackle that wall, and move on. Go grab that mirror!
“Turn your head/now baby just spit me out”
Let us not swallow whatever Dogma your Cat, uh, dogma-deliverer, brings to you. Find a quiet spot, even if it’s the powder room ‘cuz it’s the only private space with a door, and a guaranteed maximum of 5 minutes of privacy. Put the exhaust fan on honey, ‘cuz dang you tired, and sometimes revelations are messy and odiferous. Sit comfortably, perhaps with your back against something to feel support behind you, and tune into your breath. Watch your breath come in, watch your breath go out. Sit still, eyes closed or at half-mast. Maybe, juuuust maybe, your guru, who *is* you, will sit beside you and whisper in your ear, or tug on your sleeve. Can you pay attention?
“Just tilt my sun towards your domain/
Your cup runneth over again.”
If we tilt their sun towards our domain, we look within, and can stop going without. Our metaphorical cups may run over, replenished. Again, there’s that (pesky?) Svadhyaya, or self-study. It’s way easier to worship false idols, and again, look outside ourselves. Much harder albeit more rewarding, to find you had it in you all along. Click those ruby slippers three times, Dorotea, and hOMe you’ll go. (Not easy, but reads well, don’t it? Biiig juicy wink.)
This week’s inspo is “December,” by Collective Soul.
If this resonated with you, please feel free to comment below or drop me an email. Until our mats unfurl again, be well.