Embodying Soul: A Return to Wholeness
Section 5: Chapters 30 & 31
Dear reader:
Welcome to Section 5!
This previous section was Absorption—all about what I “took in.” This section is about the opposite—how things began to move out of me. Sometimes, in the sweetest of ways, as in the first chapter I’ve shared here, Chapter 30, called The Sweet Nectar of Mindful Yoga. But it changes from there as Anxiety—introduced in Chapter 31—becomes more prevalent in my body and mind.
Enjoy!
Part 5: Secretion versus Excretion
Whether through secretion — moving enzymes, hormones, saliva, and serum through the body to lubricate, protect, and otherwise keep the skin healthy — or excretion — ridding the body of toxic material through sweating or skin diseases such as rashes, acne, eczema, and hives — the body continually promotes greater health and vitality.
Chapter 30: Sweet Nectar of Mindful Yoga
Once I started teaching yoga and building a student list, I rented space at a local dance studio and a few local churches. Teaching in churches didn’t bother me. In fact, as an outsider, I could draw on what I found beautiful and peaceful about religion but leave the rest alone.
Thanks to all my training, I was able to manage students with a variety of skill levels, from beginners to more experienced yoginis. I never led my classes from the front of the room with my eyes closed, nor did I do the poses alongside the students. I walked around, occasionally using my body to relay visual cues but primarily relying on vocal instructions to build poses or adjust alignments. Using such themes as balance, effort versus surrender, letting go, discernment, working at the edge, discipline versus ambition, and working from the core helped me maintain consistency throughout classes. I loved and respected my students in a way that I hadn’t yet learned to love and respect myself.
I named my style of yoga “mindful yoga,” and advertised classes in the following manner: “Emphasis on proper alignment and spirituality within the poses. You will learn both Vinyasa yoga (movement with breath) and Hatha yoga (focus on pose alignment). All levels welcome.” I chose the term “mindfulness” both for what it connoted — a deeper, slower, more philosophical approach — and for what it did not — fitness-based classes. To me, practicing mindfulness meant being present in any given moment to receive its gifts without aversion, attachment, or desire; seeking the deepest truth available in that moment even if it’s difficult to accept; and living the lessons, not just learning them. Hence, we began each class with an opening meditation such as the following:
Imagine that you have brought your best friend’s body to class today instead of your own, while she now has yours. You did not exchange rules, you simply trusted that you’d take good care of one other’s bodies. As you move through your practice today in your friend’s body, notice where the aches and pains lie. Observe the areas of tension and tightness with compassion. Notice also where your friend’s body is inviting you to move further inward. Take that step, remembering that once class is over you will return her body to her. She will slip right back into it. You will tell her how much you loved it, how well you cared for it, how beautiful you think it is. She will note how much more expansive and grounded it feels. She will be pleased by how freely her neck and shoulders now roll. She will thank you.
Like Maryann, I taught my classes with no music, built poses with great attention to alignment, and devoted plenty of time to reflection, silence, and stillness. Like Tara, I taught with gentleness, attention to breath, and compassion for the self.
My teaching was surely a sweet nectar that emerged from my wild spiritual journey during this period. I loved every part of being a yoga teacher. I had no one to answer to, and neither did my students. Like the Velveteen Rabbit, I was becoming real; and, in turn, each student was also becoming real. My students knew not to expect anything. They’d show up ready to try whatever their teacher might be trying herself that week. As a result, we grew together and became a family to one another.
Chapter 31: Hidden Anxiety
“Rasa, do you hear that?” I point up. “It sounds like someone is shuffling papers in that tree, the one losing its summer leaves prematurely.” As I look closer, I spot small, square pieces of yellow paper fluttering in the breeze, and, buried under all the scraps of paper, skittering, yellow eyes. “Oh, that looks like Anxiety. But why is he hiding up in the tree, and why is he covered in all those yellow notes?”
“Those are called Post-it Notes in the Earth Realm, although that is not exactly how they are used there. And Anxiety is not hiding in any ordinary tree. This is the Tree of the Human Body. Walk backward with me,” she instructs, “do you see how it looks like the human body? The central trunk represents the spine of the body, and the smaller branches and twigs extending outward from the trunk represent the complex network of human nerves.”
“And the arms are there, and the legs are there,” I add, outlining the shapes with my hands.
“Exactly. Anxiety is trapped deep inside the nervous system of the human body. The longer he goes unnoticed, the longer lasting the damage to the tree — and to the human body — will be,” Rasa explains.
“How do we get him out?” I ask.
“We try to do so through patience and gentleness, because this Tree of the Human Body is at great risk,” replies Rasa.
“So that explains why the leaves are falling — Anxiety is draining away the sap of the tree needed for youthfulness and energy,” I observe, shocked at the power of this tiny yellow snake to threaten the giant tree.
“Now, my dear,” Rasa says, taking my hands in hers, “make a landing space with your hands, palms up and touching, and invite Anxiety to drop from the tree into your hands. You must be patient. If you think it took a while for Anger to warm up to you, it will likely take Anxiety much longer.”
I stand beneath the tree, holding my hands palms up. Minutes pass, then hours as I wait and occasionally see flitting eyes poke out from under the fluttering paper. Finally, the tiny serpent lets go of its hold and drops into my hands. He is shivering and cold. I quickly cup my palms around him to give him a sense of safety and security.
“Very good,” Rasa says, sounding relieved. “Now we must peel each of those notes from his body to free him before he suffocates beneath all those platitudes.”
It overwhelms me to the point of tears to see how deeply Anxiety is buried beneath beliefs. I peel off the first note and read the words written on it, “Don’t Judge.”
“Rasa, this must be from some kind of spiritual community,” I observe.
“Yes, surely from the yoga community, where the teaching of nonjudgment has often been misinterpreted,” she replies, sighing.
“I’ve read about people who achieve great states of consciousness through the stillness and silence of yoga,” I muse.
“I’m afraid you may be in for a bit of a surprise at how things have changed,” she comments, laughing.
I peel off the next note and read, “You should already know how to do this.”
“Hmm, a holdover from parenting, I presume. Or maybe business. At any rate, that’s a good one to shake off. Keep going,” Rasa comments.
I peel off another note that reads, “Setbacks are temporary.”
“Well, now,” Rasa says knowingly, “that is your ego’s husband’s mantra. It makes her feel guilty when she doesn’t feel better, according to his imaginary timeline.”
I peel off the next one, which reads, “Don’t let ’em see you sweat.” I ask, “Rasa, what is the problem with sweating? It is detoxifying, is it not?”
“Humans are often embarrassed by the most common and natural human functions. It is one of their oddest qualities,” she explains, chuckling. “But this note is less about the physical act of sweating and more about the idea that no human being who wishes to be successful should show stress, uncertainty, or, for that matter, any uncomfortable emotion. Humans portray an image of confidence or poise to cover up true emotions about experiences for fear that their vulnerability will be mocked or used against them in some way.”
“All that posturing sounds exhausting,” I observe.
“It surely is,” she replies.
“This next note is one I think I remember from when my ego was running: ‘Quitters never win and winners never quit,’” I say, sighing. I take a moment to stare up at the clear, spacious sky, thinking if only the mind could be like it. Each of these platitudes written on notes is like a harmless single cloud, likely formed with good intent, but together they can obscure the mind until everything turns dark and daily life becomes a burden. I shake my head and observe, “It is a wonder any human can see or feel anything real under all this fake news!”
“Fake news,” repeats my soul mate roaring with laughter. “That phrase sounds familiar, though what it might be used for, I cannot say.”
I continue to peel off notes until finally all that remains is naked Anxiety, staring up at me nervously. Translucent yellow with rough, dry skin, his movements are shaky and his veiny eyes look as if he has not slept for months.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I say as I cup Anxiety in my hands and bring him close to my heart.
“Your instincts about addressing Anxiety warmly are right on the mark. Anxiety requires lots of love, patience, warmth, and tenderness,” explains Rasa. “But never forget how much love Anxiety has for you, too, and how distraught it makes him to see you out of balance. This may be one of the reasons he goes to lengths such as we’ve seen here, all in an effort to get your undivided attention.”
“I will try to remember,” I say, not quite able to make that into a promise.
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