Recently, I completed another segment of the Colorado Trail. And I got a lot of positive feedback from my prior post on “Lessons from the Trail.” So, I thought to share a few lessons from the long path.

Through-hiking offers a unique set of challenges, especially if you are opting to use minimal technology and take your cues directly from the land, it heightens the connection.

I find myself in a continual state of monitoring the outer land–trying to tune into the next water source. And remain mindful of the bodily-vessle; its pace, level of energy, japa, breath regulation, etc.

There is a heightened sense of immediacy. Going without water is of consequence. Missing a turn is a considerable setback. The mind also has moments of doubt and fear.  

Immediacy…..

In a sense, one is forced into the present. The mortgate and the unresolved relationships seem to loose their relavence. 

Getting over the pass is-the-only-thing.

Of course this same teaching is reflected in the classical teachings of yoga; to wake up to the present; and to soften our sense of separation with life and its primal origin. The trail is a mirror, reflecting without and within.

Devotion.

It can be a charged notion, particularly if one has some unpleasant religious association with it. But that’s just part of the story.

In my view, it is not so much a question of “if” one has faith and devotion, but rather, faith and devotion in and towards “what?” Do we place our trust in Institutions? Science? The phone? Family? Divinity?

As a yoga practice, devotion is a way of shifting attention away from oneself–and all its finite finite and vexing assumptions–and placing it on a larger force or ideal, a greater cosmic order perhaps.

In yoga class, I often hear an invitation for everyone to “set your intention.”  

In that moment, I sometimes yearn that we may unite our devotions towards a shared higher principle such as “Intrinsic-Love,” “Peace,” or “Acceptance.”  

Maybe there is some singular and trusted-enough principle we can uplift and be in service of?

This tends to happen organically at the end of class, when there is a shared moment of silence, and is often the richest instant in class.  Why not share reveal moment of devoted-connection at the beginning as well?

Devotion, while not commonly given credence in many spaces, softens isolation and magnifies our connection to the deeper ethos of yoga.

I write these pieces from scratch. I bring years of study and a bit of self reflection to the page and try to compose something meaningful in about 200 characters.

There is no limit to knowledge and inspiration, though it seems to have its own pulse and timing, much like everything else in the creation. 

The Muse giv’eth.
The Muse tak’eth.

This week (already about 63 characters in, oops, make that 70) I decided to draw a bit of inspiration from my teacher, Baba Hari Dass, a silent monk of over 60 years, who wrote on a chalk board before passing at the age of 96.

The man could convey a great deal in a few words.

I experience relief when I read this. #1 Recognize how much energy is given to posturing a particular identity. #2 It’s a futile way to go about living.

Said a little differently. It’s said that at 18 we concern ourselves with what others may think of us. At 40 we stop caring so much about what they might be thinking. And at 60, we recognize that they were never thinking about us in the first place, the majority of attention was spent managing their own 

veneer. Simply live into the most authentic version of highest nature as you can, amidst the many words and currents of this world.

Several decades ago, when I first went to yoga classes, the practice was closely associated with “discipline.” People talked about “discipline” the same way we talk about “flow” or  “trauma sensitivity” now. It was in the air of practice.

Discipline is an essential aspect of what the yogis call “Tapas.” Tapas are the creative friction that arises when going (a bit) against the grain of impulses; it gives rise to generative heat that opens new possibilities and develops one’s character.

However, some habits seem quite stubborn and we may like the idea of “I will meditate every morning” but it remains elusive. I have my own fantasized version of a disciplined-self that does not parallel the reality of my behaviors. Sound familiar?

Here is a rewarding middle option. Practice “micro-disciplines” in the moment. Notice moments in your day when you can choose your higher virtue.

Tending to the fire of transformation is tapas.

Consciously sitting in boredom, rather than distraction is tapas.

Saying “no” can yield tapas.

Sacrifice a bit of comfort in the moment and nudge your way into a more fulfilling direction one small and simple choice at a time.  I invite you to experiment with this in your day to day decisions.

What is your go-to yogic teaching “off the mat”?  

A few come to mind: “patience”, “acceptance”–that’s a big one–or “giving of oneself”, all of which read nice on paper and can be much more difficult to put into practice.

Genuine yoga practice is something we live into rather than something to “do.”  

Layer by layer yoga reveals hidden and not so hidden tendencies and invites to apply the principles of “patience”, “acceptance” and so forth to living circumstances. Asana and so forth are means to a greater end–the maturing of your character.

Overtime, no stone is left unturned.

Baba Hari Dass used to say “climbing is hard and slipping is easy.”  It takes a bit of determination to live into one’s higher virtues.  But the alternative also comes with its price.

So, what is your go-to yoga practice off the mat?