Every week as part of my "new normal" in dealing with leukemia, I usually take a 75 minute session of hot yin yoga, where you hold the poses for 30 seconds to a minute and really try and get deep into the pose and let go with your body. Man its tough, and I sweat profusely, which is the biggest value to me, to rid my body of the toxic chemo that I take in pill form every day. This week marks the one year anniversary of taking this new drug, and my blood counts have been stabilized. Halleluiah. So whatever I am doing, I am going to keep on doing it!
And I have some great instructors at the Hot Asana Studio near Southpoint mall in Durham, not only technically, but spiritually they have made me think and expand. Last week Angela shared an intention for our practice; "the purpose of life is to find meaning and the meaning of your life is to give it away." I liked that and spent the next sweaty 75 minutes with that thought close to the surface. She also quoted Rumi, a famous philosopher; "there is a voice that does not use words." Oh how familiar I am with that voice.
The instructors have encouraged non attachment, letting go, and finding your edge physically and then creating a new one. I love all of those thoughts, especially when you have a chance to integrate them with your body, be physical, sweat and hurt a little (in a good way). The old athlete in me comes out and feels comfortable in that element.
But I have to constantly remind myself; yoga is not a competition. Neither is life. Sports are. Capitalism is. But love is not, nor is life. And love and life are the things I am focused on these days above all else.
In a recent class, I was holding a standing split, sort of, (my pose really didn’t resemble the woman;s on my right or my left, but it was MY standing split, and that is good enough,) and I thought about my faith and how all of these yoga thoughts and suggestions integrated into my Christianity. I even felt a twinge of defensiveness, wanting to defend my Christian principals against some undeclared Sanskrit theology. I stopped that assault immediately, nobody was criticizing anything and all the thoughts were beautiful and true. What was going on?
For what happened next, I need to give you a visual of the moment I was in. You see, a standing split is where both hands are on the floor (or on blocks in my case) next to one foot and the leg on the ground is straight and the other leg is straight up in the air. A standing split. Anyway I was close to that posture, (at least in my mind if not in the mirror), and I noticed that gravity was still in effect. As I was watching the sweat drip off my face and arms to the ground, I became aware of my necklace, which had freed itself from under my drenched body-fit shirt.
For those of you that know me, I wear a scapula, which is a medal in the shape of a cross that has four images of Jesus impression-ed into the sterling silver. I never take it off and it brings me great security. I don’t remember when I got it, but I can’t remember ever NOT having it and it not being around my neck.
So, as I was holding my version of a standing split, this medal of Jesus slips down my face and hangs from my nose between my eyes. I stopped thinking all of the random thoughts I was having about truth and yoga-sutras and my Christianity and I noticed a whisper say "hey there" in a playful tone. I felt like the medal, or the man from the medal, just winked at me with a smile. I almost chuckled out loud, as I wobbled on one foot with two hands on blocks near the ground.
The next moment we were instructed to slowly unwind the pose and come to a chair pose with our hands at heart center, which is most recognized as prayer pose. I can do that one pretty good. I was looking at my reflection in the mirror; I saw myself, this older man, former athlete, short crew cut military hair style, with baggy shorts, a sweaty grey armless body-fit shirt and a small tire around his belly. This guy was staring back at me looking right into my eyes, and I was holding his gaze, looking right back into his soul and noticing the grey in his goatee and the definition in his arms. And then, my eyes focused on the silver object around his neck that was beaming. It was my scapula medal. My first thought was "hey, put that back in your shirt so it’s not in the way and so you don’t draw attention to yourself." Which is my usual protocol and décor. But the voice that doesn’t use words whispered something.
I didn’t move to cover the medal. I smiled. I looked perfect in my prayer pose. I felt safe and strong; and I felt pride and joy. The voice without words said:
"you are MY boy. That’s who you are. And I am your God. That’s who I am."
And it all made sense in that single moment standing there, sweating, and shaking a little, holding my hands at heart center along with a dozen other people in the room sharing the same posture.
I enjoy yoga, the physical and the spiritual coming together. And I love life. And at the end of the day, I love the Lord the most. And when I can notice all of that and enjoy all of that in the same breath? Well, let’s just say It’s doesn’t get better any than that.
Namaste!
Amen and AMEN