Reflections on my 6th week

Today was a humid and overcast morning. However, it was still a morning that promised the possibility of sunshine. The early morning humidity promised a day of heat and stickiness. Today is a late summer morning and I am aware that cooler fall mornings are soon to come. Today I take in the familiar morning sounds I have become accustomed to as I practice my yoga in my studio; the humming of the exhaust fan from the restaurant downstairs, the sounds of a delivery truck coming and going.

As I prepare myself to surrender into shavasana or relaxation at the end of my 6:00 a.m. Ashtanga yoga class this morning, I hear the teacher say, “Now lay on your back, preparing yourself for corpse pose. You are now entering into the death of your practice.”

In that moment, on my mat- I think about this. “Death.” For me, the word “death” is a word that brings up fear or sadness or even a lack of feeling. A numbing. I don’t like to think about death, my own or anybody else’s. It scares me.

The words of the yoga teacher this morning also brought me right back to when I was learning to be a yoga teacher. We learned that relaxation pose was often called “corpse” pose and was representative of our own death. Eventually, an enlightened yogi is not afraid of his or her own death. I had forgotten this completely but now I was reminded. Every time we practice yoga and end our yoga session with corpse pose, we are entering into a small death.

Relaxation pose feels wonderful as does letting my practice come to completion. To let go of all efforts in my body and my thoughts feels so freeing and liberating. It amazes me that I used to resist relaxation pose. I used to think of it as a big waste of time. Now that I look forward to it and have completely embraced it, I think I should examine why. Maybe if I contemplate the beauty and sacredness I consistently feel in the “corpse pose” that I do almost every day, I will be able to bring in acceptance of “death” into my own life.

Often in corpse pose, I find myself in the most peaceful place of my day and am able to balance off my anxious self. In corpse pose, I almost always embrace that “everything will truly be ok.” I allow myself to integrate all of my efforts and experiences (good or bad) in my yoga practice. I come to a place of complete acceptance of what is. Today when the teachers suggested that we enter into the death of our practice, I surmised that this is what real death is like. Peace.

I think about a personal state of peace a lot, most likely because I am often not in a peaceful place. Actually, I have not been in a peaceful place on a regular basis for most of my adult life. As I struggle with my anxieties and daily happiness, I find myself repeating patterns and circles that seem impossible to get out of. I consistently feel that life is spinning too fast and that I am caught whirling in its orbit. I almost always feel that there is too much for me to do and what I do accomplish is only about ½ good enough. I am pretty sure this could be a loose interpretation of the definition of “overwhelmed.” I am also pretty sure that being consistently overwhelmed can lead to overall unhappiness and/or depression. I am pretty sure that I am clinging to wanting to become more or better at everything I do. I must admit I am human and “attached” to the physical.

It was interesting this morning to hear the word “death” at my yoga class, to be reminded of an essential teaching of yoga that I had long forgotten and to have a teacher ask me to willingly go into my death and let something that I cling to die. Yes, I do cling to my physical practice.

What else do I cling to? I cling to feeling that there is too much to do. I cling to rushing around and trying to do everything. I cling to having unrealistic expectations about my abilities.

What would it feel like to bury my chaotic pace and self- judgmental voice forever? What would it be like to kill my attachment to outcome, to put my self-criticism to death? Would I be a different person? Would I fall apart and never accomplish anything? Would I know happiness? Would my true self have more space to flourish?

As I contemplate the need for “death” in my present life, I am comforted by these words from the sage, Sutta Nipata:

“The one who is very attached to the cave of the body, that one finds detachment very difficult. Those who constantly crave for pleasure are hard to liberate and certainly cannot be liberated by others, only themselves. Sometimes it is only death that brings a realization of endings, and then the sensual person, deeply immersed in the body, will shout: “What will happen to me after death?”

The way toward liberation is to train your self to live in the present without wanting to become anything. Give up becoming this or that, live without cravings, and experience this present moment with full attention. Then you will not cringe at death or seek repeated birth.”

As I read and reread these words, I realize that I am a sensual person wanting to be fully present and alive in this lifetime. I take comfort in the words of Sutta Nipata and as always I remember to tell myself that, “I am doing a great job.”