Bhakti Yoga

“Real devotion that comes from the heart is truly expansive. People who have devotion are sometimes looked upon as strange, not very bright, and not thinking for themselves. But those who criticize devotion will never know the bliss that a person who has devotion in his heart will feel. It is an amazing thing.”

~HH Rishi Maha Mandaleshwar Sri Shambhavananda.

Yoga of Devotion, or Bhakti Yoga, is not the yoga you pay $15 for at your local studio, but it does indeed have a place in our modern world. Bhakti Yogis are those that feel that something greater exists, and wish to respect this entity with loving and devotional acts. Many yogis commit their lives to serving this higher power. Some call it God, Shiva, or a greater divine consciousness. Some Bhaktis worship a person who exhibits enlightened traits like the Buddha or a Guru. I like to think of Christians as Bhaktis. Others might feel this higher consciousness is the Self, that it exists within them, and when they meditate or engage in other spiritual practices they are devoting themselves to all of the potential they have inside to be truly great. Some might believe in a combination of all of the above.

I myself am a Bhakti Yogini, and my Guru (Swami Shambhavananda) is often the forefront of my mind throughout my day. I sit with him daily, focusing on his picture and our connection, and I follow my sit by reading a few pages from his book. Some people, even my greatest friends, might view this as obsessed, but I feel blessed to have a living Guru that I can call Babaji. I have known some Bhakti Yogis who will never meet their teacher because s/he is either far away, larger than life, or has already taken samadhi (passed on). I have met devotees of Ama, who show a great deal of love and devotion having only briefly known the nature of her presence. I have been to Siddha Yoga centers and seen the numerous Gurumayi followers who also feel immense love for her from reading her books, attending meditation classes, and interacting with the sangha (yogic community) at her centers. It is inspiring to me that these yogis can thrive on this connection, and attain a great sense of freedom and joy from it. It works for them. And I feel blessed to have found a teacher who works for me. I am able to attend Babaji’s online classes twice a week. I can ask him questions and hear his voice talking directly to me. I can also email him, and at times I send him texts. Sometimes he responds and other times he doesn’t, either way it’s good. I feel so lucky to have a teacher that I can be in such consistent contact with. I make it a priority to see him and spend time with him at least twice a year. The energy I get from those visits is subtle but real.

I don’t often talk about my devotion to my teacher, although I do quote him often and speak of him freely. At times I feel judged for having a spiritual teacher, but when those moments arise I try to look at this as a perception of non-understanding rather than scrutiny. Many people don’t feel that they need a Guru, that they can read ancient yogic texts and modern meditation books, attend lectures, and do it on their own. And for some that could be true. Babaji likens this to getting a PhD without going to college. We know that the ancient teachings of yoga are vast and powerful… so how can we expect to understand them based on our own limited perception and experience? Modern day Indian yoga teacher Sri Desikachar also asserts the necessity of a teacher in his book, The Heart of Yoga. “Having a point of reference is absolutely necessary. We need somebody who can hold a mirror in front of us. Otherwise we very quickly begin to imagine that we are perfect and know it all. This personal connection cannot be replaced by books or videos. There must be a relationship, a real relationship, one that is based on trust. (xxv)”

Teachers are not your friends. I often hear Babaji jokingly express that he is not our therapist or our friend. We don’t call Babaji when we have a bad day and need to vent. We look to him for energy and assistance for our spiritual growth, so we will be better able to handle the ups and downs of our daily lives. Similarly, I should not expect to be friends with my students, or my asana teachers. Yoga is about being present. If we get caught up in emotions, perceptions, or judgments during class, it becomes a distraction and hinders our practice. When my friends come to yoga class and I have to work to treat them like every other student. Similarly, when I take asana class, I am not a teacher or a friend, but a student.

It is not our teacher’s job to take care of us, to protect us, or to dictate our lives. It is, simply, to teach us. Desikachar explains how he was able to work with his father as a spiritual teacher. “When he was a teacher, he was a teacher. He would expect me to be on time. If he asked me to sit I would sit. That is the Indian tradition. He had the ability to separate the teacher relationship from the father relationship. I also spent a lot of time with him as a son, doing the natural things that a father and son do together.”

In the divine mantra Song to the Guru, or, Guru Gita, it is stated that the syllable gu means darkness and ru means light (v 23). Therefore, the Guru is one who brings his/her students from darkness to light, one who helps the student to be free from ignorance and judgment. It does not say that the Guru is a person to tell you how to live your life. I have heard people say that those that follow a Guru feel the need to do everything he says and live their lives in accordance with his every teaching. But I have never gotten that feeling from Babaji. When people ask Baba a question about a choice they must make in their lives, he always tells them to work on becoming present and centered, and emphasizes how this will inform their decision. I have never heard him tell his students what to do.

In some traditions, yogis ask their Guru to be their spiritual teacher. It took me a little while before I was sure. I always received energy when I attended Babaji’s classes, and the practices themselves worked to give me a framework to this broad concept that is meditation. I did Baba’s practices and a little seva on his ashrams for six months before I asked, but the connection was there from the start. Part of me questioned it and judged the whole thing. But everything Baba said made sense, and his manner was so open, lighthearted, and at times dry and sarcastic. I know that teachers aren’t friends, but I liked him. I couldn’t help but feel like we were connected. The first few times I attended his chats, I felt as though he was speaking right to me. When I finally asked Baba to be my teacher, I was doing seva in the Hawaii Ashram. He said, “Okay, Karen. We’re on.” Over the next few days I walked into walls, burned pancakes, and faltered over my sentences teaching yoga classes. There was a whole new energy that I had to learn how to work with, and it wasn’t a graceful transition. When I told my mother that I had asked Babaji to be my teacher, she was naturally curious. I remember saying, “It’s like when we moved to our town and picked our church.” This seemed to be a good answer for her.

Those that know and work with me might see me as a level headed, organized, and competent individual, and it sometimes comes as a surprise that I am devoted to a man wearing orange robes out in Colorado. They don’t know that he’s cracking jokes while talking about the Vedas, or telling us to lighten up and stop whining as he discusses ways for us to become centered during our day. Unless people meet him and listen to him, or have a Guru of their own, it will be very difficult for them to understand. I think some find a piece of the bliss that is a part of yoga and work for years based on that one experience. One of Babaji’s favorite yogic formulas is, “Practice over Time equals Growth.” Single experiences are wonderful, but it takes many over time before they begin to connect and make sense.

Yoga of Devotion often involves chanting mantras and making offerings. Waving lights, sweets, incense, spices, and gifts of our world up to whatever greatness is out there beyond it. Mantra is considered a prayer, and often invokes or praises a specific deity. The vibration resonates through all of the koshas (layers) of our being; physical, mental, emotional, energetic, and spiritual. With mantra it is said that we can experience many different levels of consciousness. When one chants the same mantra repeatedly, it can be very easy to come into a meditative state. You become a part of a greater energy with a community of likeminded people sending love and peace into the world through voice, through centuries. It is not zoning out, it is not delusion. That is a common misconception of chanting and kirtan. It is not like going to a Grateful Dead concert and losing yourself in the music. Indeed, it is quite the opposite. You find yourself present and aware of all of the different aspects of the Self. The state of the body, the emotions, the mind, and the spirit all come out and clearly present themselves.

I know there is a vastness and a potential for even greater levels of consciousness than I have experienced, and I know this because I have seen small glimpses of it and witnessed my own growth because of it. I will have an experience of feeling my heart open, and then sit in meditations plagued with thoughts for the next month. By surprise almost, another experience will crop up where I feel an expansiveness in one of my chakra centers. And then, another six months of thoughtful sits. But through it all I have Babaji, reminding me that spiritual work takes time, takes patience, takes effort. And I can ask him questions and get energy from his answers. It makes the process of growth more concrete when I have someone like Babaji to help me along the way and see where I am going… and to shoot a little fireball in my heart when I need a boost.

When I sit in the temple, I sing my heart out. When I prepare and cook food, I try to send love to the people that will eat it. When I do the dishes and clean the shower, I wish for a peaceful home for my roommates and myself. Before I meditate, I bow to my teacher. As I practice asana, I try to do mantra. Just because we aren’t from India doesn’t mean we can’t learn how to meditate or get a lot out of devotional practices. This practice is ancient but it surely can be a part of our modern life. Yes, I love my teacher and try to do what he says. And what he says is to be present, be compassionate, and do my practice. I have yet to see how this makes me someone who follows blindly, who is delusional. Instead what I see is greater potential for happiness. I am working on attaining a life and a state of being beyond what I could have imagined for myself. Beyond what I could have given myself. Perhaps I will not become enlightened in this lifetime, or ever. According to Babaji, all of that is up to me.

All Yoga

Yoga is different for everyone that practices it. It depends on what the practitioner is seeking, what the teacher is offering, and the setting in which the class takes place. I teach at three gyms, one kids’ studio, one elementary school, one high school, a corporate office, two art studios, and one yoga studio. Each class environment brings about a diversity of students. I teach between 15 and 20 classes a week in almost as many locations. I feel very blessed to teach in so many settings. I love yoga. I love what it does to me, the way it makes people feel, and mostly the peace that surrounds all of it’s aspects.

Yoga is so multifaceted that it can be experienced on many levels. In the same asana class, one person can be realizing a profound focus as another a few mats over is agonizing over lack of core strength. As Shri Deshikachar says in his book, The Heart of Yoga, “We all have different experiences, different backgrounds, different perspectives on yoga and why it is important to us. So it is not a surprise that different people find different things through the same yoga teaching.”

I am grateful that when I enter a class to teach they are each their own entity. I enjoy the challenge of working with all of the many types of energy in an average day. On an early morning I can find myself in downtown Boston helping students in their seventies work on balance and joint mobility. After this, I hop in the Honda with my granola bar and the BBC. Within an hour, I am at OmKids in Watertown jumping around and getting ready for an imaginary island adventure with a dozen preschoolers and their caretakers.

I drive to almost all of my classes, which gives me a complex, but it makes the hauling from city to city with mats, blocks, straps, essential oils, and music all the more manageable. And I am always on time. Often I listen to NPR while I drive so I can still feel connected with the rest of the world. I live in a yoga bubble, and it could become very easy for me to become lost in this blissful world! It is important for me to still have some understanding of the world I am trying to improve through yoga. I am blessed because of the many types of people I can become very close to, but the environment is almost protected from the happenings of the res of the world. Because I travel to so many different places, I also must live a very fragmented and disjointed schedule. On an average day, my energy is really going in a lot of different directions. It’s fun, it’s amazing, and it’s hard. But I know it’s for me.

The afternoon and evening bring another two or three classes with equally varied students. I find that the better I am at keeping my own meditation practice regular and consistent, the better I am at managing my energy in all of these different environments. There are lots of things that are the same. There’s me… though some of my students call me Shanti and others call me Karen. I always start class and end class with a focus on the breath. I always try to get everyone still and silent at the end. But the middle… it varies.

As you might imagine, teaching in an art studio is a lot different than teaching at the Harvard Business School. I could be wrong, but I don't think the B-School folks get my jokes. They move very fast through the asanas and are very serious practitioners. But they too always leave class with a smile and an offering of gratitude. My art studio friends are mellow, happy folks that love to share in community. Sometimes we bake bread during class to share afterwards. The gallery is constantly changing, and there is always new art around that is inspiring. There is a deep sense of focus, and a conscious effort towards a practice that rejoices in the union between the body and the mind. It is easy to incorporate elements of meditation in these classes. I can ‘go there’ with my artist folks and they will go there with me. You might imagine that if I asked my students at the gym to “Om” with me, I would get a lot of funny looks.

But three-year-olds love to “Om”. There is nothing that gives me more energy than teaching yoga to my preschoolers. Not only are they adorable and their laughter infectious, but they bring me back to the basics. I have to think on my feet. I have to act quickly before there is a meltdown. I have to change my plan mid sequence. I have to have a theme. And I have to make it fun. We always laugh, hard. I like to start the class by asking them to stay on their mats and getting them to actively agree to take deep breaths when they start to get too crazy. Then we all breathe together. We sing songs, we dance, and there are a few classics that always get them going, like pretending to glue the mat onto the floor, or pretending to make a pb&j sandwich. Try it with a kid you know, they love it!

- Start in seated with the legs outstretched in front of you.

- Pull out your “Peanut butter jar” (pretend) and your “jelly jar”.

- Unscrew the cap, reach your hand inside the jar…. What does it feel like?

- Smear the PB on your legs, the Jelly on your belly, reach the arms up, and fold forward over the legs, making your sandwich (paschimottanasana).

- Using a pretend knife, “cut” the sandwich in half, opening your legs wide (upavishta konasana).

- Take a deep breath, then bend over one leg, pretending to eat it. Repeat on the other side. This never gets old to three year olds!

My preschoolers have taught me to find joy in each moment, and to stay very, very present. They require a lot of energy, but I get it back tenfold when I watch them laugh or gleefully lift into “down diggity dog.” I might go into class feeling down, but when I leave I am always uplifted by their innate happiness, their honest effort to work, and the funny things that come out of their mouths. Last week, two-and-a-half year old Charlie greeted me with, “Shanti Shanti Shanti!” The measured joy they experience around basic accomplishments like listening to directions or rolling up their mat properly reminds me to celebrate the small stuff. And when I ask them to show me a pose from a few classes before and the remember it, it almost brings a tear to my eye!

Last week I taught a group of folks on a corporate retreat their first yoga class. They were all ecstatic when they came in the room. The energy was incredibly high, they were nervous and already making excuses for their inflexibility. I asked them, “What do they have you guys doing all day? Drinking coffee and sitting under fluorescent lights?” I put them all in child’s pose. We spent the next forty minutes going through some basic yoga postures. While I got them to focus on their breath, to stand still, and to balance, I didn’t get them to a deep state of consciousness or to enlightenment by any means. I know that if I had started to talk about mantra or letting go, I would have lost them. Instead we focused on the basics. They learned mountain pose, sun salutations, warrior poses, and tree pose. I even joked with them prior to the tree balance, “Now, we aren’t going to wave our arms around and pretend like we are trees swaying our branches in the wind.” They laughed and asked, “How did you know we were joking about that beforehand?” I smiled. I didn’t say it… But I know because I am a yoga teacher, and I know the prejudices and biases people have against the practice. How many times have people approached me and said, "So do you just go around pretending you are a tree all day?" I had to make it basic, concrete, and light. “Take your gaze down to the floor. Focus on your standing leg. Stand tall, and remember to breathe.” Perhaps a few of them will go on to take another class, and maybe one of them will eventually try to meditate. But all that matters to me is that they left the class liking yoga. I can’t be attached to the future outcome.

I practice, assistant manage, and now teach at O2 Yoga Studio in Somerville and the South End of Boston. There is a much more palpable vibe teaching in a studio. The students know the practice, they help to carry it through, and I barely need to demonstrate anything. It’s fun going to this studio and knowing that I can throw things at these yogis and they will understand where I am going. I love the playful sequencing and lighthearted nature of the classes. Sometimes when I teach, I try to challenge myself and see how long I can get the sequences to be before repeating it on the other side. The teachers at O2 strive to challenge their students, offering up sequences that safely prepare the body for the most intricate of postures. Since practicing here, I have seen my physical abilities grow immensely. But I also don’t feel like this style of yoga is for everyone. I would not have taught this vigorous style to my corporate yogis, for example. You have to know your audience.

When I am visiting one of my Guru’s ashrams and am lucky enough to teach an asana class, there is so much beyond asana that I am working with. I feel a pure energy in these places and think that the classes I teach here are much more intuitive and fluid, the movement more inspired and natural. I feel a greater connection to the depth of the practice, to the subtle body, to the chakra system, to the stillness inside. It doesn’t feel strange to me if I go three minutes without speaking in these classes. I don’t hesitate to incorporate deep pranayama, meditative practices or mantra. I don’t feel so free to share such things in many of my city classes. People come to yoga to move and breathe, to seek clarity and calm. In my limited experience, I feel people in my area connect more to the broad concepts of yoga like non-harming and truthfulness than they do elephant headed deities or chanting. If you don’t feel out your students before offering up these things, it can be a real turnoff for some people. I may practice mantra all throughout my class, but most of my students will never know this.

My teacher calls me an urban yogi. He told me today in an email that it makes him sad that places teach yoga without meditation. I agree, and hope that my ‘urban’ classes might give people a glimpse of calm and clarity that may inspire them to seek or delve into their own meditation practice. One of my high school yoginis asked me if I taught meditation classes, and I think that will be my next certification from the Shambhava school. When I think about the fact that I can teach movement and help the bodies of all of these people in Boston and still be able to email my living Guru and feel connected to all that is divine, I feel like I have it all. The next step must be teaching meditation.

Eventually I would like to open my own all ages studio where I can bring all of these many styles and types of yoga together in one space. I am almost at my 500 RYT certification mark, so the ideas are flowing. Early morning meditation classes, vinyasa classes, kids classes, classes for older folks, prenatal classes, classes for middle and high school kids. I feel like I am on a path to doing something with yoga, and each of my teachers and students are helping me to grow into a better yogi and a better teacher. I am so blessed to be able to teach a wide range of ages and abilities each day. The Yoga Sutras say that each person will take something different from the same teaching. As practitioners we are drawn to it for our own unique reasons. But we mainly do it because it makes us feel good. No matter what your style of yoga is, be grateful for it, be dedicated to it, and watch yourself grow.

Spring Schedule... Bread Yoga?

Hi Friends, Thanks for your interest in my yoga class.... The classes below are suitable for all levels and are vinyasa style. If you haven't yet been to gallery263 for yoga... you must! Hot bread served at class' end. Days and times below. Namaste, Shanti

Monday
12-1 VIM Fitness, Central Square ($15)
700-830 The Distillery, South Boston ($10)
Wednesdays
930-1045 O2, South End ($12)
12-1 VIM Fitness, Central Square ($15) 715-830 Gallery 263, Cambridgeport ($10) Friday
10-1045 OmKids (Age 3-4, bring your tot!), Watertown

Look for me subbing on the schedule at O2...
Also teaching privately. Write me: karen.omshanti@gmail.com with questions

Resisting Resistance

My high school yogis asked me yesterday when I was going to blog again. One of them piped up, “You should blog about resistance that you have been talking about the last few weeks.” How could my heart not melt at this request? Very sweet… very inspiring. Yet I don’t think Feyga knew the irony of her statement. Of course, the reason I have not blogged is partly due to my own resistance. It seemed fitting that I rise to the challenge.

I had noticed the energy dragging along through the 90-minute vinyasa classes I had been teaching the kids. I noticed them conveniently getting up to blow their noses when an arm balance or a dolphin came up in class. I noticed them needing water, bathroom breaks, advil, etc., much more frequently. When my requests for them to work harder to stay on their mat for the duration of class began to fall upon deaf ears, I knew I had to try something different. So the next time I held class, I began by erasing the entire board and writing in huge letters, “RESISTANCE”. The kids tried to figure out what I was writing as each letter came up….. “Resting Pose?” “Resigned?” “Resistible?” RESISTANCE! “Why are we talking about resisting? That doesn’t seem like yoga.”

I asked them what they thought the word meant, and they mentioned things like protest, hesitation, doubt, laziness, and exhaustion. I asked them to give examples of when they have felt resistance. “Fighting with my mom.” “Filling out college applications.” I don’t think people give High School Kids enough credit for how stressful their lives actually are. They come to yoga and they are filled with distraction of a million assignments, with doubt about their ability or their body, with anxiety about the future or the present, while being surrounded by people that they fear are judging them.

I told them that I myself dealt with resistance, and I was honest. “Even on the way here today, I was thinking ‘Oh, I have so many other things I want to do today.’ ” I saw all of their faces soften; they seemed surprised, but could relate. “But I am here, and we are going to have fun.” We talked about times that it’s easy to be resistant, and I mentioned that yoga is partly about bringing equanimity to each moment. “Like when your teacher suddenly assigns you a new project. You could get annoyed or mad, or complain that you aren’t going to have as much time to chill this weekend. And you might do that. I have done that… Or you can skip that part and go straight to how you are going to make it happen. Because the result is, you are going to have to do the project, so why not avoid the frustration that comes straight from you? It saves time and stress.” This one got some knowing smiles.

We then went on to talk about how it’s the same thing in your asanas. “I know you guys start to curse me in your heads when I hold you in Warrior Two for too long.” They laughed. “This is an unnecessary tension that comes to distract you from the breath, the pose, and what you are doing in the present moment.” I suggested that for the day they try to shift the tendency toward a more positive focus. Rather than the difficulty or challenge they were feeling, I asked them to focus on specific parts of the body or the breath itself. I asked them to observe how just a mental shift can change the pose and make it easier, instead of hating how hard it seemed or angrily waiting for the pose to be over.

We had a lot of fun that day. We ended up spending part of the class laughing as we attempted handstand and forearm stand. During savasana I talked a little bit about bringing that approach to life whenever we begin to see resistance come up. Take a breath. Figure out how to work with it, rather than against it. Make efforts to approach each challenge as an opportunity to stay present, no matter how small. When they got up and I asked them how they felt about working with their resistance, they said they liked it. I didn’t get much more than that, and I didn’t press for it. But I do bring up the magic ‘R’ word when we find ourselves all twisted up in garudasana (eagle pose) or doing Ana Forrest core work. And Feyga mentioning it yesterday gives me hope that perhaps they have been thinking about how they resist things off of their mats.

We know that every day brings new challenges. Instead of worrying or focusing on how these challenges are going to inconvenience or hurt us, let’s bring a confidence about our ability to surmount our challenges, and direct our focus to how we can do that. The first step can be to do it in our asanas during yoga class—in a small, controlled, safe part of our lives—but then we can work to do it outside of class as well. It is in moments like this that I am fully aware of how magnanimous the teachings of yoga are. I certainly can’t profess to be an enlightened person (or a ‘yoga master’ as one of the kids calls me), as I myself struggle to put these teachings into affect in my everyday life. As these words come out of my mouth I know I have no ownership of them. I often don’t know where they come from; they are lessons passed down for centuries, but they always seem fitting and right.

Every time I am resistant about doing something and I do it, I get more energy from it. Sometimes the results of our efforts are not clear-cut or rewarding, which brings about another opportunity to work with a new kind of resistance. We can’t shape our lives into the exact way we want them to be all of the time, we have to work and adapt to outside factors beyond our control. We have to resist our own resistance. Sometimes we can, other times we cannot. That is why it’s called practice.