Again...

My writing habits are kind of funny. I've gone months (eventful and thoughtful months, mind you) without really writing anything of substance, only occasionally cobbling together a post out of some sense of loyalty to whatever readers I may have. Hi, mom.

But as my old gaffer says, it never rains but it pours. OK, maybe I'm taking the Sam Gamgee metaphor a little far. I've never referred to my father as the gaffer (although... if i ever *deep breath* have kids *ok, I can breathe again*, they will definitely be encouraged to call their paternal grandfather The Gaffer. Consider yourself warned, Dad), and the only piece of axiomatic advice he ever gave me was regarding the fairer sex and is not suitable to recounted here. Regardless. Now I find myself nigh overwhelmed by a deluge of ideas of diluvian proportions.

And of course I leave tomorrow morning for a week-long trip to Andhra Pradesh. I'll do my best to get everything I want to written down, and hopefully be able to post some of it when I get back.

Long story short, there are some posts on the way. Continue to bear with me...

On Meditation

In light of our yoga and meditation retreat, I'm going to try and compile and condense some of the writing I've done on meditation practice into something comprehensible here. I've written pretty extensively on the topic, but have kept it largely to myself until now.

My practice of meditation has repeatedly come under fire as being irresponsible and aloof, and so I've done a good amount of writing trying to explain why I do it and what positive effects it has for the larger world, as I maintain it does. And of course, feeling like you have to justify your meditation practice because other people do not understand it is entirely anathema to the whole thing, I know. But the fact is that I practice meditation to be a better Christian and to be a more effective vehicle for living out the values of the Kingdom, and to work more effectively to create a better world. So I can not tolerate having this called "irresponsible" or "convenient," and so feel a necessity to clarify and explain for the sake of those who do not understand. If that shows a lack of understanding and maturity of practice on my part, I remind my readers that I am still just a toddler on this path.

A couple of months ago, I did a bit of a lexical study to explain meditation a bit. In the circles I associate with, we talk about Mindfulness Training ,and Meditation Practice. I think the words "training" and "practice" can go a long way toward explaining meditation.

Anything we do to deliberately cultivate mindfulness is considered Practice, and the implications of the word are pretty deep.

What does it mean to practice something? And why do we practice? When we practice something, we devote a lot of attention and effort to it so that, in time, we can do it effortlessly without having to think about it. Something we practice a lot becomes completely natural.

When I practice the guitar, I drill different scales and modes so that, when I have to, I can recall and play them accurately to complement a certain song or express a certain feeling. I do exercises to improve the speed, strength, accuracy, and dexterity of my hands and fingers to make my playing easier, more accurate, and more expressive. And, as every teenager knows, I practice alone in my bedroom so that I can one day rock Giants Stadium.

When we go to track practice, we do drills to improve our form so that our running is more biomechanically efficient and we can run faster and easier. Different workouts serve to increase muscle strength, flexibility, lactate threshold, cardiovascular and aerobic health, all of which will make our running more effortless. And again, I run alone around Lake Telemark and UC College so that I can eventualy win the New York Marathon.

In these examples, we practice by devoting very concentrated attention and effort to an activity so that we can be "better" at it; so that it becomes an effortless second nature. When my band has a performance or when I run a race, I do not have to worry about what my hands or legs are doing. I can enjoy the experience and know that my practice has prepared me for the performance. And in these examples, we practice in insular conditions so that our abilities can develop strong roots, and will be there when we need them in higher-pressure situations.

These analyses hold true for meditation practice too. When we meditate, we are practicing mindfulness (according to Thich Nhat Hanh, the world's foremost teacher of mindfulness, "keeping one's consciousness alive to the present reality"). We practice being aware of the reality of the present moment; we practice deeply seeing and understanding any situation, thought, or feeling that may arise. And like any other kind of practice, we devote concentrated time, effort, and attention to deeply experiencing and understanding reality so that, in time, we can do it without effort or conscious thought. We strengthen our mindfulness through sitting or walking meditation so that it can become something we are in touch with all the time, in all situations and circumstances.

And when we live our lives with mindfulness, we can't help but be loving, compassionate, and peaceful. And that DOES have a positive impact on the world. No matter what we do-- whether we are a teacher or activist-, we need the skill of mindfulness to "be alert and ready to handle ably and intelligently any situation that may arise... [A] calm heart and self-control are necessary if one is to obtain good results... If we are not in control of ourselves but instead let our impatience or anger interfere, then our work is no longer of any value" (Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness). Without mindfulness and its attendant love, compassion, and deep understanding, it is possible to obtain good results. But they would be incidental. It is much more likely that any action we undertake without real mindfulness will do more harm than good. It is only by being deeply in touch with the reality of a situation and acting out of love, compassion, and peace that we can create any positive, lasting change. And to cultivate our mindfulness, we need to practice.

As we meditate, we become aware of the constant monologue of our thoughts; an ongoing commentary on our past, present, and future. We learn to acknowledge these thoughts, identify them as what they are, and allow them to pass away without clinging.

Even more importantly, we become aware of the silence and stillness in the small spaces between thoughts. It is in these silences, these spaces, that we encounter reality, and we learn to cultivate this stillness and enter into it as a space of no fear, no desire. It's a place of just being, where we relate to the world as it really is, with no ego-centred analysis or commentary. Just equanimity and a direct experience of life; which is, I think, a direct experience of God.

In fact, it seems to me that the essence of any authentic Religious Practice is that of getting ourselves (our Selves) out of the way-- the extinction of the Self and the Ego to allow for true union or communion with the Universal, or God, or Whatever. Which only makes sense, since this is our true nature anyway.

The practice of meditation-- the learning to let go of our narrative and commentary and really dwell in the stillness and silence-- teaches us to get our Selves out of the way. Our thoughts are constantly commenting on, interpreting, and analyzing the present, and also building a past based on highly mediated, selective memories. In short, we are constantly involved in the process of constructing a Story of Me. And most of us relate to this story-- our memories, perceptions, and commentaries-- rather than to the reality of any given situation.

The more room We take up, the less room there is for God. When we can silence our commentary, stop relating to our Story, and get our Selves out of the way, we allow more space for God to work in and through us, and that, I think, can only be a good thing.

I'll try to write more in-depth and articulately on this subject in the future; but for now, I tihnk this is quite enough to swallow as an introduction.....

New Year's Resolutions

I've never been a particularly great proponent of the whole New Year's Resolution thing. Why make a big ritual out of making promises that you know you're going to break? Calling something a New Year's Resolution is basically a kiss of death. If there's a change that needs to be made in your life, then make the damn change! You don't need to announce it and then doom it to failure by couching it as a NYR.

That being said, I have set one goal for myself for 2007. And only one. I could resolve to get more involved in life here or to make sure I engage in some truly meaningful activity for the rest of my time in Kerala, or build some meaningful, lasting relationships. But I'm not going to do that, since there is a lot involved in those promises that I simply have no control over.

I will, however, run every day of 2007. No matter how busy I am, no matter what the weather is like, no matter how i'm feeling physically or mentally, I will run, in some way, shape, or form, every day of this year. I'm not saying that I'm going to run for an hour every day or X miles every day. But I will run at least a little bit every day, even if it's just 10 minutes of the Survival Shuffle. And I'll still try to get two or three quality sessions in each week in addition to my weekend long run. All this goes towards my goal of running a 10K when I get back to the States, and then a marathon in November. It's also a way of making sure that I do something good for myself every day.

I'm off to a good start. Even though I was on a bus all day on the 1st, I ran for a bit when I got back to Aluva at night, and yesterday I managed to get 20 minutes in even though I was otherwise bedridden with vomiting and "loose motion." I think our three week long All-India tour in April will be my biggest challenge, but I have some time before I have to deal with that.

Yoga Retreat
(26 December 2006- 1 January 2007)

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and anything else I may have missed in this most recent lapse in posting!

Disclaimer: I'm really sick and pretty out of it right now, so I hope this ends up being coherent. If not, you know why.

I just got back from our most recent excursion into the fabled world beyond UC College. From the 26th of December until the 1st of January, the volunteers, along with two of Kyle's friends from Washington, were in Idukki for yoga and meditation training. So after spending Christmas Eve and Day with Achen and his family, we got on a bus and headed for the mountains. As our most competent navigator, Kyle was in charge of the directions and sat right next to the driver, asking "Double Cutting?" at every stop. Eventually the driver said that we were about 4km from Double Cutting. About 45 minutes later, Kyle asked him again, "Double Cutting?" From the series of gestures the driver made, we gathered that he had blown right through Double Cutting 8km ago without bothering to tell us. So we got down at the next stop and had to catch a bus back to Double Cutting. From there we hired a jeep to take us to the yoga centre at the top of the mountain. The dirt road up the mountain dove and climbed and nearly bucked us out of the jeep several times. And there were times we were sure we would die. However, we eventually made it to Arsha Yoga Gurukulam.

Situated in a cleft of the Western Ghats between two higher peaks, Arsha Yoga Gurukulam commands a spectacular view of Idukki Lake and the Idukki wildlife sanctuary several hundred feet below. It was quiet, peaceful, and isolated-- the perfect place for a meditative getaway. A few years ago, Harilal, the founder and owner of the ashram, bought a small piece of land and gradually acquired more until he owned 7 acres. He built the road leading up to the ashram and arranged for running water and electricity, and he built the four mud-brick and thatch buildings that comprise the gurukulam-- his home, two huts for guests, and the yoga/meditation hall. He has begun some projects in organic farming on the land, and has plans to expand the facilities. But as far as I could gather, we were either his first or second group of paying guests. Harilal splits his year between Germany and India, and while he's in India, it sounds like he spends most of his time traveling to different places to teach, so he doesn't really spend much time at the gurukulam. His disciple, Sudarsh, however, spends significantly more time at the gurukulam. I was absolutely in love with this place and offered my services as resident caretaker for the duration of my time in Kerala. I don't think they thought I was being serious.

Arsha Yoga Gurukulam really was my ideal place, though. Like I said, it was quiet, peaceful, isolated, beautiful and surrounded by pristine nature. Life there is simple, disciplined, and contemplative. When we first walked to the top of the hill to take in the view, I plopped myself down on a large flat rock on the cliff with a huge stupid smile on my face and someone joked "This place was made for you." And I definitely felt more in my element than I have at any other point during my stay in India.

Our five days at Arsha Yoga were beautiful and passed much too quickly for my liking. The day started at 7 with Pranayama (breathing exercises) and meditation, followed by tea around 7:45. We would then practice yoga for about two hours and have brunch around 10. The food was simple and vegetarian, and very good. Everywhere we go, we develop a reputation as a group who loves to eat. A lot. Within twelve hours of our arrival, Harilal knew that any excess food could be unloaded onto my or Kyle's plate with only superficial protest. After brunch, we had the option to engage in Karma Yoga, or selfless service (read: being put to work around the ashram) for a couple of hours. So we helped to clear the road and clean the retaining wall leading up to Harilal's hut. We reconstructed a portion of the path leading up to the yoga hut, and moved a large lamp post to a more amenable spot. After our Karma Yoga was more tea, and then we were pretty much free for the afternoon.

One afternoon, we hiked down the mountain to the lake and swam for a while, had tea down there and hiked back up. Another day, Mike, Kyle, and I accompanied Harilal into the village to help him lead a yoga workshop for plus-two (high school senior) students. The other days, I used the afternoons to do some running on the brutal inclines up to the surrounding peaks.

At 4 we would reconvene for another two hours of asana practice, followed by dinner. And we would end the day with more meditation and a teaching by Harilal on Ashtanga (the eight limbs of yoga).

After the yoga retreat, our descent to Kumily (a huuuuge European tourist destination) for New Year's Eve, and my return to Aluva have been disruptive and pretty depressing. But that's the trouble with living a secluded life of contemplation, I guess. You eventually have to return to the Real World. I hope, though, that my experiences of the past week have taught me to keep the peace and balance of mind gained through yoga and meditation practice even in the midst of the hustle and bustle of daily life.