OLGA-MARIA CRUZ
sharp. sweet. strong. shri.
this bliss yoga
Swaha.
One of my favorite words ever is “Swaha.” I use it so much, I have to teach all my new friends and students what it means within the first few days of our meeting. It’s pronounced just as it looks, swa-ha, slight emphasis on the last syllable. It’s a Sanskrit word that I learned in yoga, which means a lot of things, including:
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Blessings & peace be upon you.
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It’s all good.
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Whatever.
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Yay!
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Amen.
In this little word, which is used at the end of many Sanskrit blessings/chants/prayers, I find so much grace. Everything I choose is good. Shall I go on retreat? Swaha. Stay home with my husband? Swaha. Go to yoga class? Swaha. Stay in bed? Swaha.
This “bliss” yoga that I study and practice is part of the tantric tradition, which instead of rejecting the body & its needs & desires, the world & its “temptations” as evil, embraces all as potentially good and healthy. A dualistic view would be that the spirit (good) is utterly separate from and higher than the body (bad). Dualistic philosophy results in a yoga practice where the body is either worked strenuously, or punished, in order to purge its bad qualities and master it with the spirit, or a yoga practice that ignores the body, not engaging deeply in a physical practice at all. This is historically & currently a popular view, particularly in the West, where we have a long familiarity with bodily shame though our Christian forbears.
Another popular view is monistic, and sees the universe as one—all matter and all spirit is really one consciousness. The differentiations we humans perceive are illusion. The goal is to dissolve our perceptions, to cease thinking and choosing, and melt into the eternal oneness. This is also a popular view, especially in the Hindu and Buddhist traditions. A monistic philosophy leads to a yoga practice that only prepares the body to sit in meditation, or a practice that avoids instructing, and perceiving, altogether.
In this bliss yoga (Anusara), we see the body as the manifestation of the spirit, and therefore inherently good—actually, perfect. Everything in the universe is the embodiment of supreme consciousness, and is beautiful, playful, valuable in its place. Our yoga practice therefore aims to celebrate our embodiment, to experience it fully, to expand our experience from inside our hearts and bodies out into the world. We do not seek to master or fix ourselves or each other. Rather we work to align ourselves with the design of our bodies, of our spirits, of the universe—so that we can participate fully in the dance of life. SWAHA!
Sanskrit: what is it??
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Swaha, part ii. Everything is already okay.
When I began yoga, in the fall of 2003, my first teacher, Dara Harper, sometimes told us, “Everything is already okay.” During final relaxation at the end of class, Dara once gave us an image of the turbulence of life being like the ocean waves—the ups and downs occur only on the top of the water. I knew this was true, not from experience as a diver, but from high school science class, where we were taught that although the waves look like they are “rolling in” to the shore, the water molecules actually move in a small circular motion and return where they began, so that the “waves” are just lots of particles moving up and down, rather than traveling.
When one sinks below the surface, all becomes peaceful, still. Dara invited us to meditate by visualizing our view of the sea whilst sinking beneath it, each breath taking us deeper and deeper, each moment our surroundings becoming quieter and calmer.
The image and the concept of this meditation resonated with me, such that it remains with me almost ten years later. Still, I recall wondering at the time, How is it possible, that everything could be already ok? So often it seems that hardly anything is ok. Impossible though seems, I currently have three friends in their twenties with brain tumors. Another student and dear friend was raised essentially by monsters, who abused her in ways that I cannot conceive and which she struggles daily to survive. I have witnessed, too many times, beautiful, bright, hard-working, vibrant, good, good young people rejected by their families for claiming their own sexual identities. As a professor, I hear from many students who are under tremendous financial or emotional stress, bearing up under crushing depression, addiction, anxiety. How can one believe that everything is already okay? That here and now, in this moment, before we have made immense efforts to fix things, life is all right? That here, and now—not in some future paradise, but here in the middle of the mess—we are all right?
My thoughts are these: for the Christian believer, everything is already okay on account of the Trinity: because the Father has “fearfully and wonderfully made” us, and diligently watches over us; because Christ has shared our sufferings, and secured our salvation; and because the Holy Spirit indwells us, brilliantly gifts us, constantly intercedes for us. God “knows the end from the beginning,” and God’s providence ensures our constant care.
For the yogi, everything is already okay because the divine “dwells in you as you” (Swami Muktananda); because from a tantric viewpoint, we are not bound creatures struggling to be free of our fragile bodies, or our earthly existence—we are free creatures, choosing to bind ourselves to this limited realm. All we need is within us, waiting to be uncovered, expanded, utilized.
In the yoga I practice I am continually invited to walk in grace, to experiene myself as surrounded by grace, fully loved, all the time. And what if it is true? What if it is indeed the case that bright divinity is our birthright; more, our very nature. Perhaps the deepest reality is that we lack for nothing. That everything we need is already within us. Perhaps the deepest reality is, everything is already okay. Swaha!
Begin, again.
Sat, Jan 28, 2012
It’s a new year. The time of year when people tend to feel they have a fresh start. To make resolutions. To come back to yoga, or church. To come to yoga for the first time.
I am beginning to teach yoga, and my two students are raw beginners as well.
But always, we who practice yoga are encouraged to cultivate a “beginners mind”–to come to the mat with a fresh openness and enthusiasm. To continually soften towards and listen to our teachers. In my experience, I can only get into advanced poses by renewing a beginner’s humility and slowly working the foundational principles step by step and listening to (or recalling) the words of my teachers. By setting my hands and placing my feet deliberately, every time.
(The one time I witnessed a student injured in yoga, it was a strong practitioner who considered himself quite advanced, and who stopped listening to the teacher, working the principles, moving from the inside out. He even stopped listening to his body as he rushed ahead of the instructions, ahead of his own breath, and popped his hamstring.
Stepping into the role of teacher is definitely bringing me back to beginner’s mind. I am humbled by the trust of my students, the responsibility I have for shaping a physical and spiritual experience for them. I am so glad that my first students are novices as well. They bring me into the beginner’s experience, and through them I get to feel downward dog, side angle, and even savasana for the first time.
I would imagine it might be challenging to keep the yoga experience fresh and exciting for more advanced students, especially in a practice that involves the same sequence of poses every time. I am reminded of the theatre adage, “Again, as if for the first time.” Every night is opening night for an actor; every scene, every line must be a fresh revelation.
I am also reminded of one of my favorite heroines of children’s literature, Anne Shirley (of Green Gables fame), who takes comfort in the fact that each day is “always fresh … with no mistakes in it.”
Each new year and new semester feels like a new start. Each time I come to the mat or the front of the room, or even to my breath–I get to begin again.