storytelling

jesus_vs_satan

Questioning Faith

“This is what happens when you give yourself to love completely, my son” the priest sighed, continuing to stare at the crucifix. His own distaste at the particularly vivid depiction was apparent. It was almost like Jesus was there.

The boy, only eight, looked up again at the statue, hung over the altar in the center of the church. He wondered how they had lifted it there. He was so used to seeing the crucifix that it had almost no effect on him. It’s not that he didn’t love Jesus, but he didn’t understand what it meant. Why was this nice man, who had helped many people, killed for what he had done? And why was everyone so concerned about it? He had learned about Albert Einstein in second grade, he had done a book report on him. Why wasn’t Albert Einstein in the church? He had also learned about Gandhi in first grade, and also wondered why Gandhi wasn’t in the church. There were lots of people he had never heard of, Peter, Judas, Luke, Matthew, but none of the people he had learned about in his history classes.

“Father, I don’t understand, why is Jesus the one above the altar? We learned about mother Theresa and Gandhi, and Martin Luther King in school. Why aren’t they in the church, or above the altar?”

“Well, my son, there are really many reasons why Jesus is your savior.”

“My savior?” said the boy. “What does that mean?”

“That means he came to Earth, to save you from your sins.”

“What sins father?” said the boy. He obviously did not understand.

“Whenever a human is born, they are born with sin my son. This is the story of Adam and Eve, in the book of Genesis. Eve, the woman, bit the apple when she was tempted by satan, the serpent, and unearthed the path of knowledge for humanity. This is our essential flaw, that our ancestors chose for us.”

“But I don’t want to be bad father! I want to be good, like Jesus, and Mary, and Joseph!”

“Then ask Jesus for forgiveness, my son. I can help you with this.” The priest said with a kind smile. “I have studied Jesus for my whole life, so we can talk about him together.” The priests smile grew with each word, excited to help this child learn more about god and Jesus.

“Aren’t we talking about him right now?” said the boy.

“Well, you need to confess your sins. Otherwise, god cannot forgive you.”

“But if god already knows my sins, like you said today when you said god is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-knowing and all-forgiving, doesn’t he just forgive me? I don’t mean to forget my homework, or leave my gym shorts at home, so won’t god just forgive me?”

“No my son. You need to recognize your sins as sins in order for them to be forgiven. You have to ask, god will answer in his own way.”

“So if I ask god for a new bike, he’ll give me one if I’m good?!?” the boy said with newfound enthusiasm in his eyes. The priests smile faded into a heart laugh, full of empathy.

“No, my son, god does not work like that.”

“So I can ask for forgiveness and he gives it without question, but he won’t give me a new bike if I’m good? What gives? I thought god was all-powerful and if I’m good, I think I should get a bike. Don’t you, father?”

“Things appear in our lives when they are meant to my son. God will give you this gift if he sees fit to award you with it. And yes son, I think you should get a bike. Maybe you should talk to your parents about it.”

“Good idea!” the boy said enthusiastically, but the priest could tell that he still had questions.

“What else concerns you, my son? Why do you look like you are still in contemplation. Can I answer any more questions for you?” he said slowly, making sure the boy felt comfortable to express his feelings. He prided himself on making his church safe and available for the youth, after all, they are the future.

“Well, I still don’t understand what made Jesus so special. Why can’t I be like Jesus? I want to do miracles and help the poor and teach people about happiness and love, just like him!”

“Jesus was special my son. He is god’s son and he sacrificed himself, despite his own divinity, to show humanity the power of love.” He gestured to the altar. “This is the ultimate love, my son.”

“But so did Martin Luther King and all of the martyrs. I just don’t understand why Jesus was different from them.” the boy looked ashamed and hung his head.

“Doubt is a part of faith my son. It makes you stronger, there is no shame.” He held the boy’s head up and looked into his eyes. “Jesus was different, because he chose. He knew that he was going to die, yet he chose to continue on his path. That is what makes him special, son. That is why he was the son of god.” The priest released his gaze and looked back to the cross. “He chose to suffer, to come to Earth, to teach us how to love, despite knowing that he would be crucified.”

“Wow.” The boy sat for a moment in thought. “So while he was in heaven, he decided that he would go to Earth, even though he would be tortured and killed? So Jesus knows the future?”

“Of course, my son. Jesus and God are the same.”

“But why didn’t god to come to tell us himself? Why did he need to have a son?”

“Because God does not take human form, my son. His divinity is too complete. Jesus needed to be sent so that we could see and understand.”

“But doesn’t that mean that he isn’t all powerful? If he had to send his son instead of himself, then he couldn’t come to teach us, right?” the boy now looked confused and disappointed. His brow was heavy.

The priest took his time to respond. He knew that his answer would be important, “I don’t think it is a question of power, or of god not being powerful enough to come himself. Jesus is god in human form. They are the same, there is no difference.”

“But Jesus died,” the boy said with certainty. “Doesn’t that mean that god died?”

The priest looked down. No one had ever asked him this before. “Well, god can’t die son. In the same way, Jesus can’t die. That’s why he rose from the dead. Because he was God, and death has no power over God.”

“But Jesus isn’t around now… If he was all-powerful, why did he only stay for 40 days after he died and was resurrected, instead of living for all of eternity with humanity? Wouldn’t that be more representative of his love, rather than dying for sins? He could still talk to us and teach us so much! He could be the world leader!”

“That’s not how it works, son.”

“How do you know? You aren’t Jesus, maybe you don’t know him as well as you think…”

“Son, I have spent my life studying Jesus’ work. I eat, sleep, and live by his work. Why do you think I don’t know Jesus?” the priest said with serious consternation. The smile was gone.

“Well, what if he is different from the stories. I mean, what makes the Bible different from any other book? I really don’t understand it, because my mom showed me the Veda and some Buddhist scriptures, and they have the same stories as the bible. What makes it so special?”

“Well, son, it was written by God.” The priest’s smile returned in full force.

“How do you know?” The priest’s smile faded into a frown, to match the boy’s seriousness. The priest could tell that he wasn’t going to stop.

“Faith, my son. I believe the Bible was written by god, and therefore I study it and live by it.” the priest talked slowly and deliberately, making sure to put some serious resonance in his voice.

“So you just believe? You don’t think about it? It’s really hard for me to believe that someone was eaten by a whale and lived, or that Jesus rose someone from the dead father. How can you just believe these things?” The boy looked concerned, confused, and frustrated, all at the same time.

“I do think about it son. But my faith is greater. So I believe in these godly. So that my soul can find eternal repose in Heaven, with God and Jesus.”

“Father, I just don’t understand. What if they are wrong and you have wasted your life worshipping Jesus as God when he was like you and me and Martin Luther King? A human, and not a God?”

“Son, now its my turn to play the skeptic.” As the priest spoke, a wry smile came to his lips, though it was a grin of understanding, rather than deceit.

“My boy, I can see God within you, even as we speak. His will is strong in you and the strong question, search, and decide for themselves. So I will tell you what I learned from Voltaire, ‘I believe in God because if he does exist, I will be eternally rewarded in heaven. If God does not exist, then there is nothing after death and my faith will have not mattered in the first place.’”

The boy looked strongly at the priest, as though he was deciding something. Then, without warning, he hugged the priest. “Thank you, father.”

Then the boy walked from the church, unconvinced and uncertain, but knowing that he could return whenever he needed to.

 

Questioning Faith Read More »

San_Francisco

Getting my India Visa in SF

Why I love San Francisco

I got my visa for India this morning, and took a megabus into the city yesterday afternoon. I have to say that part of me is sad because Urban Flow is closed right now and I really loved that studio. There’s something primitively satisfying about chanting with a couple hundred other humans at the same pace. Top reason why I love SF: yoga. Mostly Rusty Wells at that.

I forgot forms, as usual. I needed a copy of my drivers license and some alternate things form that I have nothing to fill out on. I have a pretty clean record, to be honest. But I printed my visa form there, had to refill that out again because I didn’t include my middle name like I did on my passport. Oh well, the people working there were really nice.

I usually come for a weekend, or a couple of nights so I can head down to the studio and practice and see a couple of college friends, but I am becoming more and more aware of how yoga is continuing to gain popularity. Our society and culture are molding it into something amazing, something that is really American too. I’m always incredulous at the vast diversity of Americans, it is truly awe inspiring.

San Francisco has no shortage of diversity and people are friendly, if you give them the chance to be. Its a rough life in a city, I’m really glad that I haven’t been living in one for the last year, it feels great to take breaks. But the massive stimulation does seem to have a very productive effect on me, being one who was diagnosed with ADD, it helps me to focus. But it is also exhausting.

The consulate was a piece of cake, I used CKGS, it cost $100 for a 6 month tourist Visa with multiple entry. I hope that means I can make it to Nepal, Burma, Laos, and Cambodia. I am also seriously considering Thailand for two weeks in April, maybe a Mango farm? But I am also really excited for 3 weeks in Germany with my sisters and mom. Berlin is going to be beyond epic, I’ve heard so many amazing things about that city. I hope I can see some live EDM, apparently da germans are really into it.

For the past 3 or 4 months I have been making music, really mostly in the last 3. I was so inspired by Lightning in a Bottle that I wanted to learn it for myself. I think I love entertaining people in general, I think yoga might be just one outlet for that. But it is definitely my favorite one, and the most steady of all my passions. A great joy is rising in my heart as I turn to the east again, ready to see more of life on this planet, the world outside of the states. This will be my first time in a 3rd world country, I’ll see poverty there unlike anything I saw in China last May. Though, I can’t say that the people there had much, at least they had some opportunity to farm and work the land. I wonder how India will be.

So I am going to spend at least one day in Bangalore before heading to Mysore, I want to see the trade capital of India, 8 million people in the metropolitan area, and there are a little of ancient temples there. Then its off to Mysore to register with the Ashtanga Institute and practice with Saraswathi. I finally got a confirmation letter after two rejections! But only after calling Saraswathi and asking if I could attend. She said, “come, come, practice here.” Well, don’t mind if I do!

I think what makes me most excited about India is the silence, the time alone, the time in thought and in meditation. It is my favorite thing, which still surprises me every time I take some time to sit down and breath, stop my thoughts and maybe stretch. Lately it has been much more about meditation than the asana practice. Which is probably perfect, because I have a feeling I will get my fair dosage of asana in India.

There is supposed to be a huge storm coming in tonight, its pretty exciting to hear the wind gusting outside. I love waking up in the fog and seeing the sun during the winter, its pretty great to spend the cold month where the weather is good. Geese and ducks have it right. Can’t wait to migrate myself, I think that kind of lifestyle would be really interesting.

What do you love about SF? Besides the yoga, of course 😉

Getting my India Visa in SF Read More »

Transcendence Festival

Transcendence 2014 Recap

Transcendence exceeded my expectations in so many ways. I was really doubtful that a new festival so close to the city could even be fun; man was I wrong. We got in a couple of days of yoga, dancing, partying, etc, until Saturday when the cops shut down the music. Most of the people will tell you the shutdown is when the true party began.

I was supposed to have a 7am meditation on Saturday morning. I was tired, but woke up at 6:40 to go to the space where I would teach and no one was there. I stuck around for about 45 minutes, but I don’t think anyone ever has said I wanna wake up early to meditate. Most would rather sleep.

I volunteered for about 5 hours on Wednesday and helped to set up a dome and the artsy stage, which turned out to be awesome. Then I headed down to Camp Pollock on Friday after I taught my morning yoga class. I bought a tent the night before to break in, there’s no where better than close to home for these things. I brought my friends and it was really a cool Friday afternoon. There was good music, but the stages weren’t very prepared and the festival itself was a bit disorganized. It kind of felt like festival boot camp.

Which is cool. Artists were learning how to be artists. It’s not too often that you get to see something great in its infancy.

Afternoon Dream Serum was a band that I am really excited about now; I got to see them Friday night, though not at full capacity because the electrical wiring on the stage was messing with the bass. The sounds they were making before the electrical problems were pretty amazing. These guys are going to be a big deal someday if they stick with it.

Friday night also came with some unexpected disturbance; the Dancetronauts are cool, but Transcendence was not the right festival for the type of party that they wanted to throw. EDM at a fast beat with little distortions and not too many effects is only good for so long; I put my limit at about 3 hours. Not these guys though, they were playing until 7am, for no reason! There wasn’t even anyone at the stage. So next year, I will be looking to see that they are not a collaborator. I like sleeping at 3am, not listening to EDM repeat beats reverberating in the valley.

Anyways, so Saturday morning comes and I’m exhausted and go to teach my class, but no one shows. Which is totally cool, I think of my role of a yoga teacher as holding space for people. Sometimes, people won’t be in my space and that’s totally fine. But I don’t think I am going to sign-up for a morning meditation next year. I think that during the day, yoga should be performed at the main stage in unison with whoever is making the music. That would be pretty awesome.

Anyways, so Saturday night we were planning on listening to some really rad bands, but the music got shut off at 8, so that didn’t really happen. I’m not sure why it got cut off, but it had something to do with permits and electricity. I’m not sure if the cops needed more permits than what the organizers got, or if they just wanted to shut down the festival. I think they shut it down because of the all night blaring EDM that the dancetronauts were playing. The band music was going to be good, but people started to congregate instead, taking out their own instruments and playing and dancing all together. It’s funny how much more important community is than the music; they compliment each other, but people care more about each other than the sounds that we make. Music is just one way we express our selves to each other. Arguably, it is the most expressive. Community is what the festival scene is all about and Transcendence really helped to show us that. People are what make these things happen.

So Saturday night was a blast, every seemed to be able to breath and really enjoyed themselves. Sunday morning we had to leave by 8, so I got up and left. It was so great to see all of my friends and yoga people from the area though and I am definitely looking forward to going back next year.

I personally am grateful for the experience and big thanks to James Kapicka for putting on the show. Yes, I will be going next year and hopefully teaching more yoga there. Maybe I’ll even have some music made by then. If you’re going, get ready to see the raw scene of artists learning their craft as they go and the up and comers that are going to change music for the rest of us. There were definitely some amazing people who gathered to celebrate, maybe you can join next year.

Transcendence 2014 Recap Read More »

Teaching 5 Days Straight

For the last five days I’ve taught an hour and a half class at the studio. It’s been a great experience, one where I’ve really gotten to know myself as a teacher in a new way.

I’ve realized that I like to practice before I teach. It puts me into my body so that I can journey with other people through theirs as they practice. When I teach every morning, its easy to wake up before 9 and start my practice. I can see myself waking up a lot earlier in the future to practice before I teach. Its important to me to respect the practice and teach from my own mat.

As a teacher, coming up with sequencing is something that is personal to you and no doubt driven by your own practice. I am getting better at sequencing classes because of the repetition; it forces me to think a lot about why we are doing what we are doing. A daily practice has always been what resonates with me. Honestly, I’m really excited to go to India because I love the practice so much. I could hide away in a mountain with other yogis and a teacher and practice for hours every day. No problem.

I think the part of yoga that I like the most is building the awareness of my body. That kind of awareness spreads far beyond the yoga mat; eventually it seems to creep into everything. Its interesting how awareness of yourself grows so much in the first stages of yoga. But then the awareness seems to branch out, to envelope everything. Spirituality is something that grows in harmony with the environment, in fact, it is the very definition of spirituality.

Anyways, it’s been fun putting together the playlists and seeing all the awesome yoga people. Getting into sequencing on a deeper level has been really rewarding as well; I’m really excited to continue getting better at moving people through their bodies.

Teaching is draining, more emotionally than physically in my opinion. Especially when you put a lot into preparing and being present during the entire class. But I’m happy to flex those brain muscles, I’m sure I’ll take it to new heights soon. But I am stoked that I got the opportunity to grow, big thanks to Marilyn and Usha for allowing me to hold the space. Still waiting on my response from Mysore, I sent my application in to the Ashtanga Institute on October 1st.

Now its time to relax and enjoy my weekend; you should do the same!  (but remember we are at war right now, I’m reading the news on BBC because they seem to be the least biased. Its important not to forget!)

 

Teaching 5 Days Straight Read More »

fantasy world

The Wanderer

This is a short story that I originally wrote as a stand-alone short and has turned into a series. It is influenced by the Yamas,  most particularly Satya, truth.

There once was a wandering sage who had given up all of his possessions to know and be one with god. When the old man arrived in the desert village where he would spend the night, a young boy asked him why he wandered. The older man, strong but weathered from the harsh sun replied with an eery silence, “I search for god.” The boy was in awe. He spoke simply, slowly, and with the great conviction of a lifelong quest. The old man looked up at the sun and smiled. The boy had never seen such peace before.

The boy started to talk to this man when he returned from the desert, as he begged in the main streets of desert towns. He only returned from time to time, but the boy found him to be full of great wisdom. The man had nothing and took only what he needed to survive in the harsh desert outside of the villages and he claimed to be free of the material world. One day when he returned to the village, he met the young man and they spoke of that day the sage had spoken of his quest to god. He was entranced by his quest for perfect stillness and pure bliss. The boy said he wished to follow the sage as he wandered and the old man agreed.

“But first”, the sage said, “you must say farewell to your mother and father and tell them about the journey you wish to embark upon. Only with their blessing, may you follow my footsteps as you please.”

So the boy left the sage to fulfill his charge so he could leave to find god with this great sage who was quieter and slower than anyone he had met.

First the boy decided that he would said goodbye to his father, thinking it would be easier than talking to his mother. The sage waited outside the village, silent in the harsh desert while the sun set with his eyes unmoving on the sun. Pink and orange spilled over the horizon with the dying day.

The boy rushed home, excited to depart and tell his parents of the news. But to his surprise, his father replied sullenly and sadly when he learned of his son’s intentions, “So you wish to know god, do you? What do you feel you are missing here? You could stay with us and learn from the few books we have collected of the great gods of the epics.” But the boy was not pleased and hung his head for a moment. He took a step towards the door to leave, but his father spoke in a pleading tone.

“Please son, don’t leave. I fear you will find nothing out in the harsh elements but suffering and death. Learn to herd and farm and raise a family, like your ancestors before you.”

“But father,” the young-man replied soberly, “I must learn about myself and my world!” He continued speaking in more of a whisper than his full voice, as if it were partially a secret. “There is so much out there and I know so little! I met a sage in the village today and he is on a journey to find god! He looks at the sun as pure bliss and he has no worries, no chores, no pigs to feed, and no one to look after. He wanders from place to place and seems to be at peace with everything! He is wise father, he said he needs nothing!”

Father chuckled sadly at his son’s enthusiasm, “He is wise you say? What has he taught you? Did he tell you that everything that you see is a reflection of what is inside of you. And inside of you, there is a powerful spark of light, some call it god, others call it other things. This light is the same light as the light you see in the sleeping sky, winking at you from their places in heaven. You don’t need to go anywhere to find this thing you call god. Did this sage trick you into following him? Why are you so set on this mission of yours?”

“No, I asked him if I could follow him.” the son retorted. He was angry now, and sick of his father’s cryptic messages. He did not see a light inside of himself as his father had said. His voice heightened with sarcasm, “If god is already inside of me, why do the sages travel in pilgrimages, why do people retreat to mountains to find enlightenment, what is the point of seeing the world? Why do even the most powerful men bow and pray and sacrifice to the gods? Certain places are more sacred than others are they not? Do you really think these people do all of these things for nothing?” The son threw up his hands in despair.

His father replied slowly, “God is in everything son. Some people see god clearer when they are in a specific place, or doing a specific thing. Sometimes, it is when they feel the most alive.” Father sighed heavily, as if resigning his conclusion, “I grow saddened by your malcontent. You are searching for what is right in front of you!”

But at this the son grew angry. His father obviously did not understand. “Then why is there suffering father? Why do people get sick, die, and live in pain? Why is there disease, evil, scarcity, and poison? If god is inside of us, why do we hurt so much, all the time? Why isn’t everything prosperous and fruitful? Why do men travel to mountains and rivers and shrines and holy places to find god if he is just there inside! It doesn’t make any sense! I want a life of little suffering and I want to free myself from this weight I feel each and every day.”

At this, his father grew thoughtful and bowed his head in contemplation. “How many of these men have found what they were looking for, son? Have you even asked this sage if he knows god? Has his wandering and begging borne fruit? Listen closely son, men are full of lies and deceit and greed. Do not trust them, even this sage, whom you think has found the answers you are searching for. Each will serve himself more than he serves you.” He paused again, this time he examined his son, and his eyes teared as he spoke. “You must serve yourself, I understand. I will sorely miss you, son. You are my greatest love, the fruit of my life and I wish you prosperity and success in your journey to god. Listen for one last thing before you go. I believe that we hurt because we are meant to learn, my son. But the lessons are up to you. Perhaps this is what you must learn. I love you my son, someday, remember that you are always welcome here.”

The father smiled and embraced his son with all of his spirit, but the son was now simply confused and even more frustrated, his father didn’t make any sense. He was simply done with his nonsensical non-theology and was ready to say goodbye to his mother. He hugged his father back and felt warmth spread through his body as his frustration melted and he realized that he might not see his father again for a long time. Tears began to fall and they found themselves shaking for a moment in their sorrow. The son turned to leave, surer than ever of his path to freedom and bliss.

The boy’s excitement at the idea of journeying with the sage didn’t fade and he went into his mother’s room, the only other room in the house, to speak with her.

When he walked in, his mother quickly wiped her eyes, she had obviously overheard the father. She embraced her son immediately and cried into his now strong chest and arms; he was now a full six inches taller than her. He was days away from the final ceremony of manhood in the village, but he would leave all that behind. After a minute of holding his mother, he wiped her eyes with his sleeve and told her that he would return someday. He felt an intense sorrow begin to come over him, but he would not be swayed from his quest.

She replied harshly, much to the son’s surprise, “Do not speak to me of the future, unknown and meaningless. I want to spend time with my only son! Are you really leaving me here? Why do you leave your father and me, your family to follow this man whom you know nothing of? What has he found but despair and poverty in the harshness of the desert sun?”

“He searches for god!” the son exclaimed. “Mother, please understand. I wish to find god, I do not want to ordinary, boring life of a shepherd! I want to be free of this miserable suffering to live eternal bliss! This sage will lead me to freedom and lead me from this boring life.”

At this his mother let out a brief sigh. “Then you must leave my son. But remember to follow your heart, above all else, it will tell you where you need to go.” And she embraced her son for a long soft hug. It made the boy sad to see his mother in tears, but he was convinced of his quest. Then, the boy left into the darkening sky, now a faded purple with stars beginning to shimmer in the growing darkness.

The parents were saddened, but days, then weeks, then months and years passed. Their son did not return home. After a decade, he had still not returned and they gave him up for dead. Many of their friends had died on similar quests to find god, so they assumed death had claimed their son.

But one day, the once boy, now a man wandered into their small village. He met his mother’s eyes and she immediately ran to him and embraced him so fully that he dropped his begging bowl. The porcelain shattered on the hard ground. Tears flowed from their eyes onto the sandy ground, tears of joy. It had been more than 11 years since his departure.

He stood under the village gate as his parents looked questioningly at their forgotten son; it was obvious that he had suffered, there were scars on his back, his lips were cracking, and he was so thin that you could easily make out the bones of his body.

“I have returned!” he spoke with enthusiasm through the obvious weakness. His voice was ragged as his clothes.

They fed him water and the man who was once their young son spoke slowly, pain obvious in his voice. They clothed him and his mother bathed his sores and cuts and cooled his fever. That night, the son rose to speak with his father. He met his father to watch the stars of the darkness fly in the sky and they walked outside of the village, into the border of the now cooled dunes.

The son spoke after a time, in a voice sure and slow, “It took ten years of wandering the desert with nothing, following sage after sage to understand what I was looking for. I found misery, suffering, and greed. Even sages take and lie, sometimes. We are all seemingly bound by our humanity. Father, you were right, each man who I followed took from me to feed himself when it came down to a choice between him and me. This happened until I decided that I would feed myself first. But no one would feed me before I did. I found nothing that I was looking for, but suffering and death and luckily not my own.” The son looked into his father’s eyes to see tears dropping on the floor.

The son smiled and embraced his father, “You are my truest teacher. No sage led me to god, the only answers I found were those that I concluded. I think I had to see what god was not before I could see clearly what god really is. Wandering this place forced me to learn what was truly in my heart by stepping away from things that I loved dearest.”

The Wanderer Read More »

Sunset

Learning to Slow Down

Yoga is an extraordinarily powerful tool. Especially for someone with a hyperactive mind.

When I was 6 I was diagnosed with ADD and given a prescription for Ritalin. I was a little troublemaker with a big imagination; a dangerous combination for any parents. At six I was recommended by my first grade teacher to see a neurologist to examine my behavior and cognition; he had me play with blocks, asked me to touch my nose and keep track of both of my fingers at the same time. Some general cognitive tests. He thought medication would be best considering that it was not a severe case, but fit perfectly into the symptoms of ADD. Plus I struggled with behavior in school.

I took a pill each morning that had positive effects on my behavior for the classroom environment. It made me focus on learning rather than allowing my attention to wander and continually distract other people while they worked, which it often still does. My learning wasn’t affected, but everyone else’s learning. Over the next few years, it became obvious that I was a very disruptive student and did not do well with rules, organization, or authority. Especially unwarranted authority or meaningless rules. I still don’t like any of those things. My mind simply functions at a higher level and processes faster and more creatively with disorganization. Over time, I have come to view this as a creative attribute rather than a defect or disorder.

In high school I began questioning my need to take a pill in the morning. What made me so different from anyone else? My sophomore year I stopped taking it so much. In the summer between my sophomore and junior year I took summer school to get ahead. During summer school my parents and I did some behavioral analysis with one of the teachers; he was a pretty awesome teacher. He noticed significant shifts in my behaviors based on whether I had taken medication or not and would fill out evaluations throughout the days. It was obvious that the medication helped in school. This solidified my need for the medication for the remainder of high school, though now I was in charge. We upped the dosage because I had been taking the same pill since 1st grade and changed drugs to Conserta, a new time release formula that supposedly had superior release mechanisms.

Conserta was awful. Junior year of high school was probably one of the most depressing times in my life. The come-downs were extremely saddening and dark; some of the worst feelings that I have ever felt were on that drug. We tried again with Adderoll and that worked better, though nothing ever seemed as smooth as the Ritalin. I now attribute this to an increased awareness as a result of trying the different drugs, rather than the drugs themselves or Ritalin being superior to the others. This time was definitely an intense time of self-discovery and learning about myself, not to mention the fact that I was 17. It was a rough year; I sprained my ankle badly to take me out of rugby and my social life struggled due to the depressions of the drugs.

Senior year was much smoother; I learned to regulate the new drug, Adderoll. I had a phenomenal second semester of my senior year, in sports, socially, and in the classroom. I got a 3.8, scored in the national rugby championship to come in second in the nation, and developed friendships that remain strong today. Then college happened.

I left Sacramento for the unknown of Spokane, Washington in the eastern portion of the state. I isolated myself at Gonzaga, a Jesuit school. I still have the utmost confidence in the Jesuit education system; those priests are some of the smartest, most spiritual people on the planet. My high school had about 20 of them, but I didn’t meet too many in college, likely due to my aversion to church.

I struggled at first; I was alone when I had such close friends from high school and took plenty of classes off to hang out with new people. But school was ridiculously easy after the great education of Jesuit High and I didn’t have to try too hard. The rugby team was easy-going and kind of competitive; a complete opposition to my high school experience. Adderoll became less a part of my life than ever before.

Freshman year passed without much incident. Sophomore was much of the same, until the second semester when I started taking the core classes for my business major and realized that the business education was not for me. The teachers taught directly from text books and had a few tests a semester; which in my personal opinion becomes useless and forgotten information. I can learn from a text-book by myself; at least I thought this until I didn’t study at all. My grades were awful and my motivation even worse. Then I switched majors.

I had planned to do an international business so that I could travel and see the world all while making millions. It became pretty apparent that this course of study would not work, so I changed to French, which I had planned to minor in. This allowed me to spend one year in Paris, rather than the 5 months of a single semester that my business major would have allowed. My grades in French were not great and the teachers were hesitant to send me over; if I was struggling at Gonzaga, surely I would struggle in Paris. I probably would have if I wasn’t exposed to yoga.

My first days home were a bit boring, but my mom asked one day if I wanted to try yoga; which I had never really heard of and figured it might be a good workout. I took one class with Scott Emerich at East Wind in Roseville and got hooked. That summer, I took classes from Destiny and Ryan and a passion grew inside of me. Meditation, especially physical mediation, was unlike anything I had ever done before. I loved it and that summer did yoga every day. I knew I was leaving the country, but had become so hooked on my practice that I wanted to keep going while I was there. Ryan, who I am eternally grateful to, gave me a few yoga books like the Gita, and recorded classes from Rusty Wells and Bryan Kest.

I took my mat over to Paris and loved every second of France. My best friend in the whole world, Kevin Taya, was there and I hadn’t seen him in a couple of years. Kevin first visited my family as a foreign exchange student when we were sixteen and we were best friends ever since. His family became a second family to me and I spent Christmas, New Year’s, my birthday, and a few other holidays in his quaint and beautiful house in Nandy, about 45 minutes via RER (the public train system) Southeast of Paris.

My first semester, I got a 4.0. I worked hard to learn the language and immerse myself in the culture; it became apparent when my oral French skills improved so dramatically that I got compliments constantly from my teachers when I returned home when I had been previously critiqued (and rightfully so). I got a membership at Bikram Paris for a few months and did my first juice cleanse. I adjusted magnificently to the challenge of a new country, language, culture, and history; I also loved being an American around people from all over the world. But nothing is as expansive for the imagination as a new language in a new city, in my personal opinion.

I think of that year in Paris as the year that I learned who I was, or at least who I have the potential to be. Meditation changed my life, yoga was something I did to equilibriate my body physically and I could tell that the mental benefits were enormous. I did my practice most days. I had even gotten a new drug, Focalin, which was my favorite of all the drugs I had taken so far; the come-down was lighter than Adderoll and the “up” was not as intense. I probably used it a total of 5 times in France; I honestly forgot about it.

All things set aside, I no longer take medication. At all. Yoga taught me that going fast has its consequences; eventually the body will catch up with the mind. I have always been a speed demon in skiing, running, learning, reading, you name it I’ve tried to go fast doing it. Yoga taught me the joys of going slow, of actually enjoying the moments as they come and go instead of always rushing to the next thing. Being in a rush is not how you want to live! Because truthfully, life is happening all around you all the time; when you are solely focused on only one things its easy to miss what is happening around you.

Now I think that I am learning to slow down even more; to allow my mind to fluctuate rather than reacting to sensations or feelings. Now I am be able to observe these peaks and valleys as they happen. This is especially important in emotional intelligence; to sift through situations with intuition and mindfulness rather than bulldozing others to get what you want (something I have done my whole life) or by forcing your own agenda on the situation. Slowing down allows you to actually enjoy the things that you cultivate and create in your life, rather than just moving on to what’s next. Take a deep breath and enjoy the flow; it will only happen once.

Carpe Diem is a concept that I think fits in well here, but lets tweak it a bit to Carpe Omnia. Seize every moment of your limited time.

Learning to Slow Down Read More »

Ahimsa | अहिंसा

Yama #1

Ahimsa is the Yogic concept of non-violence, or non-harm to other beings. Himsa means to strike, injure, or harm and adding an ‘a’ before a word in Sanskrit makes the meaning opposite; in this case meaning non-injuring, non-harm. This is especially important in the yoga practice that occurs in the studio, but plays an equally important role in getting you to and from the yoga studio and all around in your life. Ahimsa is one of the Yamas, or principles for living that Patanjali expounded in writing the Yoga Sutras. I believe it is one of the most useful and important concepts in yoga and philosophy in general. Words, deeds, even thoughts have the ability to create harm; and by renouncing violence you allow life to flourish around you.

All beings have a divine spark within them, trees, plants, flowers, animals, and humans. God, or divinity (however you want to define it, “the universe” is also useful here) is intrinsic in all things, so harming another being is really harming the shared divinity within yourself and the other being. By hurting others, you hurt yourself because of the connection we all shared. Separateness is an illusion, as any astrophysicist, molecular biologist, or mathematician will tell you, electrons are constantly colliding and interweaving in everyday objects that appear to be still. Everything is vibrating and melting, but the human eye does not perceive these realities; instead we construct a conscious image that is useful for things like eating, hunting, and surviving. By truly allowing other beings to grow and flourish you are allowing yourself to prosper simultaneously.

But the concept is even more useful on the yoga mat. Instead of working against the body, work with it to relax and sooth the tension and stress within muscles. Mostly this becomes apparent in the breath, in how relaxed and focused you are on the sensations of the muscles. Injury is probably the easiest way to completely halt the journey of yoga; avoiding it is the key to progress and cultivation of joy within a yoga practice. Make your yoga sweet, not forced, and gentle instead of moving through physical strain, even in the intensity of a pose like Warrior 3. You can amp up your breath to match a difficult pose, but don’t force your body to do things. Mindfulness and care of your body will keep you on the yoga mat working to relieve the stresses of the body even with very intense asana practices rather than being injured and not being able to work on the physical asanas and prana-yama.

As I mentioned earlier, it is also an extraordinarily useful concept off the yoga mat. Mahatma Gandhi was a huge proponent of Ahimsa; you could offer that Martin Luther King Jr. was too, though he was likely unfamiliar with the Indian concept. Violence is cyclical, meaning that is progresses in a downward spiral and the only way to allow for it to cycle is to put energy into it. If everyone in the world could find a way to be non-violent with one another, than world peace wouldn’t even be discussed. It would be a given.

I lived in Paris when I was 20. I also drank a good amount in this time, because I was a rebel, liked being a rebel, and loved to party. So one Saturday night, while in the center of the city (I lived in the 13th, a solid 45 minute or hour walk from the center of the city) my friends and I decided to take one of the night buses home. We were at a club before, drinking and dancing on tables so we were all tired and still quite drunk. All 5 of us got on the public bus and right when I got on, I knew it would be a shit-show.

There were a few younger guys in the back smoking what was obviously hash and cigarettes. They were being pretty rough, so my ground and I sat in front of them, by the door. But these kids were drunk so eventually someone smacked me in the back of the head, for no reason. I turned around and looked to see what happened, I was a rugby player back then so I was a bit more inclined to violence than I am now. I saw a guy just a bit older than me, staring back drunkenly. His friend started to apologize and I said thanks and just turned around. But I was pretty heated; it took every ounce of energy not to yell, or get up, or get my friends to start something. I took the headshot and sat quietly.

When I was 14, I got my black-belt, so I had committed myself to only using violence in self-defense and this did not fall under that category. This is the biggest reason I didn’t react. But as the older kids continued to push each other around in the back of this public bus, the police pulled the bus over; the driver had called in because of his passengers breaking the law. Five squad cars pull up with their lights blaring and we all exit the van. I see the kid that hit me and the others that were causing the trouble get to put the side and the rest of us were allowed to walk from there; we were at the Bastille which was 15 minutes from my foyer, or apartment building. As I began to walk home, I saw the one that was behind me resisting an officer that was questioning him. Then the officer searched him, found more drugs and a switch blade. A big one.

I probably would have been stabbed if I had given that dude just a comment. If I had defended myself, I am sure that someone would have been hurt badly. Sometimes it is really better to end the cycle of violence immediately, as soon as you come into contact with it. Absorb it for everyone else, process it yourself and you just made the world a better place. The story reminds me of the commitment to pacifism. If everyone could sit still and process their own emotions including fear and anger, the world would be peaceful. But it requires commitment from each individual, everyone has to be disciplined to serve the same vision.

Ahimsa is powerful. It shifts the ego lens inward rather than externally making you more aware of your projections of insecurity and fear. Use it in the yoga room and your practice will flourish. Add some love and knowledge to the mix and you will be flying in no time. Then take it outside the studio and live by it; violence in society is never a good thing. Help to make the world a better place.

Ahimsa | अहिंसा Read More »

The Death of Dreams (Part 1 of 3)

Daily Prompt

Today, write about a loss. The twist: make this the first post in a three-post series.

All dreams die someday. This is the story of the death of one of my first dreams. It was 2005 and my singular goal in life was to play basketball as much as I could. It was my favorite sport of many and despite my height I had gotten quite good.

During the summer I trained with a college player who got me shooting about 500 shots in a couple of hours. As in any sport, repetition is key. I will still continue to wonder what would have happened to my three-point shot if I had continued for another two years. I could sink them like it was my job.

I worked so hard that I got to be in great shape. Better shape than I had ever been in. This was before I knew to diet, so I ate lots of meat and pizza, not to mention Captain Crunch. The peanut butter flavor was my favorite. But my hundreds of sprints each day heartily counteracted any excess. I was strong, lean, and ready to rock and roll for tryouts.

I arrived to a scene of about 30 people from school, each was a great basketball player in their own right. But when it came to conditioning it was easy to see who had put in the time. I won every single sprint during that tryout. On most, the second person wasn’t even close. At the end of the first day, my calves cramped badly when we did some full court drills. I kept going but those cramps would affect me for a few days, I attribute it to my poor diet. Man, that is an important thing for any athlete to know.

During the entire try-out, I gave it my all. I played defense like a madman and would run the ball as point faster than anyone else. I was a speed demon, but my control wasn’t on par. I wasn’t used to going as fast as I did so I would lose the ball, or make a bad decision. I was right on the cusp of making the team and I knew it.

The last few days of the tryouts came to a close and I could see who was left, who I was competing against. There was a definite separation between the starting 10 or so and the rest of the squad.

Coach pulled us into his office and let us know one by one who hadn’t made the team. I watched as the three guys I had dropped pounds of sweat with left the room in despair, my fate was all too apparent. In basketball, height matters. Almost more than anything else. I knew that my 5’8″ stature had doomed me, but I was determined. I walked into that office with my head held high.

“Elliot, this is going to be hard to tell you, but we are going to cut you from the JV team. Its hard because you work so damn hard, you have more heart than anyone else out there. But we don’t have room to keep you on the team. I need to be completely focused on the twelve guys that will play and you are above the line.” Tears started to come to my eyes at that point. My basketball dreams were dying, but I knew that this wasn’t an end. And it had been inevitable, I could see that now.

I shook off the tears and told the coach it had been fun to be on the team. I had loved it. I shook his hand firmly and said, “Thanks for giving me a shot coach. I did my best.” I’ll never forget the look he gave me that day, almost as if he couldn’t believe me. I didn’t argue, or become emotional, it was simple to me. It was over.

Dreams die. Give them all you’ve got and they will still perish eventually. But life will bring you more. Go with them, without holding on to the past. You will find that they are born just as easily.

The Death of Dreams (Part 1 of 3) Read More »

Scroll to Top

Subscribe

ElliotTelford.com

We promise we’ll never spam! Take a look at our Privacy Policy for more info.