Wisdom for a Desert Island

My sister-in-law likes to play the Desert Island game.  We are given a category, such as fruit, and asked to give the top five that we would want if we were stranded on a Desert Island.  The Island motif serves as a metaphor for the things you couldn’t live without if you had to choose.  Notwithstanding that many folks actually live on real versions of a Desert Island, with their choices conscripted by their social, psychological, economic, and/or cultural circumstances, it’s worth thinking about what really matters in a world where Dennis Rodman in North Korea makes the front page, and I have to read about the war in Afghanistan in Doonesbury. 

I never could answer those Desert Island questions because there are too many contextualizing factors.  Take the fruit example.  I would probably pick clementines, but after that, the choice is less clear.  If I picked apples, would they be the hard, juicy kind that bite you back?  I eat blueberries in my oatmeal every day in summer, but what if I don’t have oatmeal on the island?  And of course I love avocados, but they have a lot of fat.  And are they even a fruit? 

So you see my dilemma.  Give me any Desert Island category, and I will not be able to come up with a definitive list because of the range of variables.  For example, with movies, I know I would get sick of watching the same five over and over, so would I choose something that requires multiple watchings to understand, as opposed to say, The Big Lebowski, which makes me laugh and cringe at the same time? 

Books are the same way.  I’d have to weigh fiction and nonfiction, philosophy and poetry, young adult, popular fiction, literary fiction, books of theories and essays. Books on yoga, books on meditation, books on compassion, books on spirituality.  Books on social justice, books on schooling, books on social justice in schools.   Books on writing, books on teaching, books on teaching writing.  It is impossible to choose. 

And yet.  I do believe that I just read a book that covers almost all of the above.  This book, only 50 pages long, provides a framework for many of the issues I have been contemplating for the last 20 years or so. 

Here’s a quote:

Spiritual people, by and large, try to behave well, a habit I am not attempting to subvert.  Still, living by some idea about how things should be is not entirely preferable to living as you are.  For one thing, the goodness of others can have a shaming side, especially if the virtue has shallow roots.  People who do not or cannot, yet, behave very well may feel humiliated by spiritual language and behavior.  They may feel they aren’t good enough to sit at this table.  Or they may suspect, with reason, the quality of the food. (O’ Reilley, pp. 18-19).    

I have suspected the quality of food at many a spiritual table, even my own cooking.  I wrote rather lightheartedly last week about the obstacles of Ganesha, joking about yoga poses that elude me and traffic on 195.  The next morning, I found out that the 15 year old son of a friend had died in a tragic accident.  I also connected back to my friend’s father in the hospital, and another friend’s partner dying in the VA Hospital.  Screw Ganesha, I thought.    

And then, I remembered that I don’t actually believe that an elephant god puts obstacles in my path to teach me lessons about humility, patience, or anything else.  It is up to me to see the thing and behave in an authentic, thoughtful way, recognizing that my negative reactions are patterns, not character flaws.

O’Reilley acknowledges the injustices of the world and how it comes into our classrooms, whether we like it or not.  She writes,

Life comes to dark places, and people sit with stories that are truly hellacious….What does this have to do with teaching school, you may wonder.  Well, I think that if we can’t pull the weight of these stories off people, it’s very hard for them to learn.

Yes.  This is the real world of teaching, and yet there’s not a damn thing about it in the Common Core or in any educational policy that I have ever seen. 

I remember when, a few years after I graduated, I was marveling to my advisor that I couldn’t understand her feedback on my dissertation, and now it was crystal clear.  She said, “Janet, you couldn’t hear me then.” 

Sometimes students can’t hear us, maybe because of the stories they are carrying around.  But the wise teacher can at least make time to hear her/his students.  That’s our job, even if it isn’t in in our job descriptions or evaluations.

So my Desert Island list is pretty definitive after all: clementines, The Big Lebowski, and a tiny book called Radical Presence: Teaching as Contemplative Practice by Mary Rose O’Reilley. 

The Trouble with Ganesha

 On New Year’s Day, I went to Gitali’s Chant, Move, and Meditate class at Bristol Yoga Studio. We sang Ganesha’s chant, because, as Gitali said, Ganesha is the remover of spiritual and material obstacles. This seemed appropriate for beginning a new period of measured time. But she also said that sometimes Ganesha puts obstacles in the way to teach us that the world is sacred as it is, and that what we may interpret as obstacles or imperfections might provide us with something we do not even know we need yet.

 This was a reminder of how different the yogi interpretation of life is from the western perspective. As an American, I see obstacles as barriers to be overcome with effort and will, because they stand in the way of what I desire. Obstacles are, by definition, bad; things to be avoided or eradicated so that I can continue on a smooth path toward my goals.

 From the yogic viewpoint, obstacles are seen differently. Change and unpredictability are not foes to be vanquished or rivers to be dammed. Instead they are a given: an expectation. So, when there is a car accident or roadwork on 195 that keeps me from my usual speed, it is not an anomaly or obstacle, but simply part of life. When I can’t do certain poses because of tight shoulders, this is not preventing me from something I should be doing, but is an invitation to be attentive to how my shoulders represent what is happening in the mind. After all, Dharma Mittra says that there are no stiff bodies, only stiff minds.

 When Saturday morning rolled around at -1 Fahrenheit, I saw this as an obstacle to what I wanted to do, which was go for a run. This would be two non-running days in a row, with a half-marathon coming up that I don’t feel ready for. However, I had promised myself that I would not run if it was colder than 10 degrees (Nels had no such compunctions—he went running with other hardy folk). I happened to have a flier on my bulletin board for a yoga studio I wanted to try, and a vinyasa class started at 8:30 a.m. I bundled up and headed out.

Yogaloft is in the Cutler Mills off Child Street in Warren. The walls are exposed brick with tall windows, high ceilings, and a smooth natural wood floor. The entry opened into the spacious studio with props on one side and a door to the back that led to a bathroom shared with other businesses. Sharon, the teacher, was efficient, warm, and called me by name throughout the class. We started with stretching, twists, and core work before moving into sun salutations, warrior poses, balancing, and then to inversions, twists, and savasana. While it was a traditional class in many ways, some important things were reinforced. When Sharon asked us at the beginning of class to start with an intention, mine was “be present.” This supported me even as my mind went to various places that involved critiques of my flexibility, comparisons to other students, and wondering when the hell we were going to be done with Warrior I because my arms were freaking tired.

 I was reminded of how, when I’m practicing on my own, I like to move through most poses quickly. Nels recently teased me about my lack of patience, and I think that impatience is evident in my yoga practice as well. The only poses I like to extend are pigeon and savasana. This morning, though, Sharon reminded us to stay with the breath, so when moments of irritation arose, I was able to come back to the present, even as I was trying to avoid its unpleasantness. She did a terrific job with sequencing, encouraging, and adjustments, and I so appreciate that I chose, practically on a whim, to come to this class, on this day.

 Maybe because it’s a natural time for resolutions, but I hit upon a new intention for 2014 during the class: I want to visit every yoga studio in Rhode Island. I had resolved to work more intentionally on my yoga practice this year anyway, so what better or more fun way to do it? Ganesha will no doubt be at work, placing unexpected and perhaps unwelcome experiences and people along this journey. I’m already dreading Ashtanga and Bikram yoga, for example. If you have a favorite studio and instructor, let me know. I will share my experiences periodically.

 Judy McClain of Grace Studio once said that paradox is at the heart of yoga. Ganesha is part of that paradox as both the remover and placer of obstacles. No matter what our resolutions or intentions this year, he will be at work. So, if I don’t happen to get to all yoga studios this year, I’ll know whom to blame.