Ono No Komachi – Feb 14, 2022 Iyengar All Levels

An 8th century Japanese woman, who wrote about love beautifully and sometimes earthily.

Is this love reality

or a dream?

I cannot know,

when both reality and dreams

exist without truly existing.

Ramayana – Feb 13, 2022 Fun with Chairs

For Valentine’s Day tomorrow, and Hanumanasana.

…

Hanuman stood on the hilltop. He held his breath and sucked in his stomach. He frisked his tail and raised it a little at the end. He bent his knees and swung back his arms, and on one finger gleamed Rama's gold ring. Then without pausing to think he drew in his neck, laid back his ears and jumped.

It was grand! It was the greatest leap ever taken. The speed of Hanuman's jump pulled blossoms and flowers into the air after him and they fell like little stars on the waving treetops. The animals on the beach had never seen such a thing; they cheered Hanuman, then the air burned from his passage, and red clouds flamed over the sky and Hanuman was far out of sight of land.

The green hills of Lanka Island rose from the horizon. Hanuman saw the shoreline of warm white sand and scattered stones and water pools, and behind that many tall swaying palms, and plane trees, and forests of aloes. He saw rivers meet the sea and saw where pearls and cowrie shells and fine corals had been spread to dry. He flew inland, over stacks of gold and silver from the demon mines that lay blazing in thw sunlight, and then he saw the City.

Preceded by a little breeze, Hanuman landed under an overhanging cliff on the hill not far below the city, amid fruit trees in full flower and bearing fruit as well, in a soft scene like heaven. Blue rivers laughing with flowers fell running down channels and stairs of ruby, and trees of every color growing uphill reached out to catch the faint pink clouds. The warm sea-wind smelled like pepper and doves and fragrant spices.

Hanuman ate some dates and thought, "Not a hair out of place, I’m ready to do it again! I call that little ocean a puddle…”

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper – Feb 11, 2022 Iyengar III

A - It’s never too late.

B - The power of reading is profound!

Learning to Read

Very soon the Yankee teachers

Came down and set up school;

But, oh! how the Rebs did hate it,—

It was agin' their rule .

Our masters always tried to hide

Book learning from our eyes;

Knowledge did'nt agree with slavery—

‘Twould make us all too wise.

But some of us would try to steal

A little from the book,

And put the words together,

And learn by hook or crook.

I remember Uncle Caldwell,

Who took pot liquor fat

And greased the pages of his book,

And hid it in his hat.

And had his master ever seen

The leaves upon his head,

He'd have thought them greasy papers,

But nothing to be read.

And there was Mr. Turner's Ben,

Who heard the children spell,

And picked the words right up by heart,

And learned to read 'em well.

Well, the Northern folks kept sending

The Yankee teachers down;

And they stood right up and helped us,

Though Rebs did sneer and frown.

And I longed to read my Bible,

For precious words it said;

But when I begun to learn it,

Folks just shook their heads,

And said there is no use trying.,

Oh! Chloe, you're too late;

But as I was rising sixty,

I had no time to wait.

So I got a pair of glasses,

And straight to work I went.

And never stopped till I could read

The hymns and Testament.

Then I got a little cabin

A place to call my own—

And I felt as independent

As the queen upon her throne.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper – Feb 10, 2022 Iyengar II & I

For Black History Month, this fascinating 19th century poet was a university professor as well as a talented writer. I thiugh we could all use this “Song”.

Songs for the People

Let me make the songs for the people,

Songs for the old and young;

Songs to stir like a battle-cry

Wherever they are sung.

Not for the clashing of sabres,

Nor carnage nor for strife;

But songs to thrill the hearts of men

With more abundant life.

Let me make songs for the weary,

Fife's fever and fret,

Till hearts shall relax their tension,

And careworn brows forget.

Let me sing for little children,

Before their footsteps stray,

Sweet anthems of love and duty,

To float o'er life's highway.

I would sing for the poor and aged,

When shadows dim their sight;

Of the bright and restful mansions,

Where there shall be no night.

Our world, so worn and weary,

Needs music, pure and strong,

To hush the jangle and discords

Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.

Music to soothe all its sorrow,

Till war and crime shall cease;

And the hearts of men grown tender

Girdle the world with peace.

Rumi – Feb 8, Iyengar Level II & I

Staying together in spirit.

A COMMUNITY OF THE SPIRIT

There is a community of the spirit.

Join it, and feel the delight

of walking in the noisy street

and being the noise.

Lewis Carroll – Feb 7, Iyengar All Levels

From “Through the Looking Glass”, for a classic Iyengar Mirror Sequence. The 1st and 2nd half of the sequence are mirror images of one another. An interesting illustration of how poses might relate, and fun. Might feel a little strange to some.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

…

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Walked on a mile or so,

And then they rested on a rock

Conveniently low:

And all the little Oysters stood

And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,

“To talk of many things:

Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—

Of cabbages—and kings—

And why the sea is boiling hot—

And whether pigs have wings”

Rumi – Feb 6, Fun with Chairs

A beautiful way to say Be Here Now.

A DELICATE GIRL

….

This earth eats men and women,

and yet we are sent to eat the world,

this place that tries to fool us with tomorrow.

Wait until tomorrow,

which we outwit by enjoying only this now.

We gather at night to celebrate being human.

Sometimes we call out low to the tambourine.

Fish drink the sea, but the sea does not get smaller.

We eat the clouds and evening light…

Hsieh Ling-yün (385-433) – Feb 4, Iyengar Level III

I loved the idea that even though we may travel inwards, confusion may remain. Ancient words feel relevant today.

Far off to the south are

peaks like Pine-Needle and Nest-Hen,

Halcyon-Knoll and Brimmed-Stone,

Harrow and Spire Ridges faced together,

Elder and Eye-Loft cleaving summits.

When you go deep, following a winding river to its source,

you're soon bewildered, wandering a place beyond knowing:

cragged peaks towering above stay lost in confusions of mist,

and depths sunken away far below surge and swell in a blur.

T’ao Ch’ien (365-427) – Feb 3, Iyengar Level II & I

I was out sick for Chinese New Year, but usually feel like it falls right when we need a new New Year. Definitely this year!

Turning Seasons

Turning seasons turning wildly

away, morning's majestic calm

unfolds. Out in spring clothes,

I roam eastern fields. Lingering

clouds sweep mountains clean.

Gossamer mist blurs open skies.

And soon, feeling south winds.

young grain ripples like wings.

Pattiann Rogers – Jan 28, Level III

After a beautiful and cold snow, I like the image of snow and stars falling being indistinguishable.

truth and falsehood

Last night in parted clouds,

we couldn't distinguish the stars falling

from the snow falling—both cold, deadly,

and inviting, both distant

and magnetic in their indefinite

places, both erudite in silence,

both traveling by sleep, both against black,

both against white, against the trickery

of the eye, against revelation,

against immortality,

both boneless, as naked as light, neither

beckoning, neither denying, both ancients

broken and unchronicled,

both out of the pit

into the instant and back, both cracking

the continuum,

rushing down

in multitudes toward the earth

as if it were the Holy Grail, the grave,

both in diamonds, both in spades, all aces—

the way things were for awhile last night.

Pattiann Rogers – Jan 27, Level II & I

Movement and the body’s connect to the mind and spirit is at the heart of Yoga Philosophy. Make this path a little different from other world traditions.

and motion in philosophy

We say we move miles across desert

ice and black volcanic sand, down

numbers of leagues into the night

of oceans and caves. Marking

units and distances, we say we move

an hour among damp spring grasses,

two days along canyon roads

and creek beds, country lakeside

borders. This is the way we move,

because we pronounce this to be

the way of our moving.

But maybe in truth we pass through

not just miles of forest but a testament

of trees, neither walking nor riding

but moving as sunlight moves in one

steady procedure through underwater

weeds or as music moves

making time and space of the void.

…

All facts of the body, we know,

are composed solely of light

and its speed. Therefore, a traveling

beam of luminous star and a single blood

corpuscle of radiance in the heart must be,

in myth and song, one and the same.

…

Adrienne Rich– Jan 25, 2022 Iyengar II & I

What will we remember about this Pandemic?

In Those Years

In those years, people will say, we lost track

of the meaning of we, of you

we found ourselves

reduced to I

and the whole thing became

silly, ironic, terrible:

we were trying to live a personal life

and, yes, that was the only life

we could bear witness to

But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged

into our personal weather

They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove

along the shore, through the rags of fog

where we stood, saying I

1991

Adrienne Rich– Jan 23, 2022 Fun with Chairs

Another poet I wasn’t wild about at first glance. She feels perfect and necessary right now.

Dreams Before Waking

…

What would it mean to live

in a city whose people were changing

each other's despair into hope?—

You yourself must change it.—

what would it feel like to know

your country was changing?—

You yourself must change it.—

Though your life felt arduous

new and unmapped and strange

what would it mean to stand on the first

page of the end of despair?

Anonymous – Jan 21, 2022 Iyengar Level III

More from the fabulous “Gigantic Cinema-A Weather Anthology”. Did you ever wonder where the expression “blood, sweat & tears” came from? The whole is quite beautiful. Anyone who makes it into a Level III classes understands the concept, but hopefully, also develops some sensitivity along the way.

- Tell me the substance from which Adam, the first man, was made.

- I tell you, from eight pounds' weight.

- Tell me, what are they called.

-1 tell you, the first was a pound of earth, from which his flesh was made. The second was a pound of fire; from which his blood came red and hot. The third was a pound of wind; from which his breath was given him. The fourth was a pound of cloud; whence his instability of mind. The fifth was a pound of grace; whence his understanding and thought. The sixth was a pound of blossoms; from which was given the variety of his eyes. The seventh was a pound of dew; whence he got his sweat. The eighth was a pound of salt; from which his tears were salt.

Marcel – Jan 20, 2022 Iyengar Level II & I

For Backbends - How do you “see” when you can’t use your eyes? BKS Iyengar would say we should become more sensitive, that “Every pore should be an eye.” Made me reach for this piece from Proust. I think our asanas should “sparkle” if every pore is an eye.

I OFTEN CONTEMPLATE

MY MEMORY'S SKIES

Time erases all just as the waves

Efface the children's castles on the beach

We'll forget these words so precise, so vague

Still sensing the infinite behind each.

Time effaces all it does not erase the eyes

Be they of star, clear water, or opal

As rich in the skies or on the jeweler's table

They flame for us, joyous or sadly wise.

The joyous, flown from their living bevels,

Will pierce my heart with their gem-hard glints

As on the day they were set in their lids

Gleaming with a precious, deceptive sparkle.

…

Mary Ann Hoberman – Jan 18, 2022 Iyengar Level I

A poem for (gold) fish, in honor of the video Julia Goldberg found from the Smithsonian. Goldfish drives car! Can’t be any worse than we are already doing here in New Mexico, land of terrible drivers!

Fish

Look at them flit

Lickety-split

Wiggling

Swiggling

Swerving

Curving

Hurrying

Scurrying

Chasing

Racing

Whisking

Flying

Frisking

Tearing around

With a leap and a bound

But none of them making the tiniest

tiniest

tiniest

tiniest

tiniest

sound

Anonymous – Jan 18,2022 Iyengar Level II

From a wonderful alternative to the Farmer’s Almanac, “Gigantic Cinema: A Weather Anthology”.

The owl was requested

To do as much as he knew how.

He only hooted and told of the morning star.

And hooted again and told of the dawn.

Tracy K. Smith – Jan 17,2022 Iyengar All Levels

Happy Martin Luther King’s Day! Smith seems like an appropriate heir to King. If the word Riot makes anyone uncomfortable, please know that an early definition/use of the word is Revelry.

RIOT

We live—

We live—

in my city and yours

and on far shores

nationless

We live—

We live—

standing risen

on solid authority

in the light

and not quietly

We live—

morning sun

We live—

evening come

We live—

generations hence

We live—

We live —

deep color

our heart leaps

We live—

over and again

our heart leaps

We live —

gold hot bright

the line of us

never tiring

We live—

We live—

B.K.S. Iyengar – Jan 16,2022 Fun with Chairs

Natarajasana is such an interesting pose. It is extremely difficult in its fullest expression, and yet even a taste brings joy to newer students. The last line of Iyengar’s description in Light on Yoga might explain why.

Nataraja (nata = dancer, raja=lord, king) is a name of Siva, Lord of the Dance. Siva is not only the god of mystical stillness, death and destruction, but also Lord of the Dance. In His Himalayan abode on Mount Kailasa and in His southern home, the temple of Chidambaram, Siva dances. The God created over a hundred dances, some calm and gentle, others fierce and terrible. The most famous of the terrible ones is the Tandava, the cosmic dance of destruction, in which Siva, full of fury at his father-in-law Daksa for killing his beloved spouse Satī, surrounded by his attendants (ganas), beats out a wild rhythm, destroys Daksa and threatens the world.

This vigorous and beautiful pose is dedicated to Siva, Lord of the Dance, who is also the fountain and source of Yoga.

Linda Gregg – Jan 14,2022 Iyengar III

A poet recommended by Tracy K. Smith. Working on the wisdom to see the imperfect, in one’s Yoga practice? Generally? Here is some inspiration.

Elegance

All that is uncared for.

Left alone in the stillness

in that pure silence married

to the stillness of nature.

A door off its hinges,

shade and shadows in an empty room.

Leaks for light. Raw where

the tin roof rusted through.

The rustle of weeds in their

different kinds of air in the mornings,

year after year.

A pecan tree, and the house

made out of mud bricks. Accurate

and unexpected beauty, rattling

and singing. If not to the sun,

then to nothing and to no one.