Coach Aruni

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How Does This Happen?

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How Does This Happen?

We walk around for months and months wrapped in layers of clothing and scarves and hats and gloves and socks that could defy an Arctic night.  

We scrape our cars of ice and snow with tiny appliances and drive down slippery hills and watch muddy ruts freeze into accordion-like furrows of treachery.  

We bitch and complain while some of us laugh and throw snow at each other.  

Some of us might actually play outside and fling ourselves down slippery sloped mountains on tiny wooden accessories.

Others of us hunker down in front of a fire or Netflix and never move again.

For months.

We manage, each in our own way.

And then something happens.

Something remarkable.

Something magical.

The earth in her brilliant perfection, continually moving and shifting, even if we very smart mortals aren’t aware of it, and in just the right moment, right on cue, leans yet again toward the sun.  

Again and again and again.

Somehow, through a synchronicity and awe-filled process beyond our human understanding, somehow, it happens.

The earth begins to soften.

The grass releases, relaxes, shivers and stretches toward the warm light.

The flowers poke their glorious heads upward.

The birds return in full cacophony.

It all changes.  
Changes come slowly, subtly, quickly, magically.

This New England spring has been a reluctant one, having her way with us; she has taken her time, keeping her temperatures cool despite the light bursting from the heavens and the magical celebration of returning birds.

It has, despite the temps, been an awe-filled time for me.

Here is one reason—the birds.  

I love birds.  

Let me share some of my neighborhood birds, home again in full-hearted jubilation—get ready for some serious bird-sounds:

 

Such life!

Such energy!

Such presence!

What does any of this have to do with us, we might ponder?

Everything.

Absolutely everything.

We are the earth.

We are the birds, the grasses, the flowers.

We go to sleep—we shut down.

We awaken again.

And again.

Around us spring mirrors our possibilities, our unending hope for renewal and resurrection.

To all of us, I say, let’s wake up softly to the gentle light.

Let’s wake up softly to the greening grass.

Let’s wake up softly to the birds, the squirrels, the many little and big creatures stretching awake.

Let’s remember again—and—again, we are the earth.

She is us.

Let’s draw from this shift of season the energetic jumpstart we need to realign, reconnect, recommit—

To energy.

To vitality.

To ourselves.

To one another.

Happy Passover, as we celebrate liberation from bondage.

Happy Easter, as we celebrate the hope of resurrection.

A happy and joyous spring moment to us, all.

~~~

Dear Friends,

How might you partner with spring to awaken?  What activities can you literally do and/or what can you relax into, to help shift your energy?  Consider and let me know. I am aruni@rnetworx.com.  

May this holiday moment be filled with light and love for you.  May you relax into the awakening springtime.

All blessings,
Aruni

Everybody Hurts

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Everybody Hurts

Reluctant Springtime

Sometimes it just hurts.

Period.

End of conversation.

Sometimes life asks us to let go of that which we want to be forever ours.

Sometimes people, places and things shatter our hearts.

That which we take for granted seems up for grabs, suddenly rewritten, re-ordered on a daily basis.

Assumptions are pierced.

Disappointment floods our bodies.

The world around us looks and feels different.

Reality is relentless.

Reality will always win.

Logically, cognitively, we understand;

We know we get it all.

We get the open-heartedness,

Along with the dark night of the soul.

We get the sound of our loved one’s joyous laughter,

Along with the hollow emptiness of our own, 2:00 a.m. breathing.

The faith, the fear,

The joy, the heartbreak—

It’s all true.

All inevitable.

All sacred.

So, my question of the moment: why is it so hard to feel the pain?

And—perhaps more importantly, is there more pain to feel these days, in this time of great unraveling?

The despair quote is intensifying for Americans, says Dr. Sanjay Gupta, American neurosurgeon and medical reporter.  Life expectancy in the U.S., once the highest in the world, today ranks near the bottom of major developed nations.  For the first time, life expectancy is shockingly decreasing in the U.S.

Toxic pervasive stress is the term Gupta uses to describe the galloping circumstances that are fueling the opioid crisis and the increasing the rate of suicide.

WTF?

I’ve been searching for solace amid some external and internal angst this week.

I find little slivers of solace here and there.

For me, solace exists in our being in this together.

From the I-to-the-We, there is comfort.

I am not alone, even though, when the feelings build, I believe I am clearly The Only One.

Nope.

We share the stress.

We share the hurt.

None of us are exempt from the heartbreak.  

All week I have listened obsessively to this R.E.M. song, sung by the Corrs, an amazing Irish band.

 Please join me in diving into the solace this gorgeous song offers.

 

 

 

 

Here’s the good news and the bad news; the way out of the feelings is through the feelings.

That’s yoga for you.

But/and…….

Knowing others are in it with us changes everything.

Knowing we are not alone changes everything.

Knowing we are one-among-many changes everything.

In the emptiness there is such grace.

As the song guides us:

Take comfort in your friends.

You are not alone.

~~~

Dear Friends, what shakes up your heart at 2:00 a.m.?  What are the triggers, the springboards into your despair?  How can you find connection and solace from the people around you?  What might that connection look like?

Please know that I’m right here, finding my way, one tiny step at a time.  Please keep me posted. I am aruni@rnetworx.com.

All blessings!

The Grace of Surrender

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The Grace of Surrender
Early Berkshire Spring

A thousand years ago, in 1991, I led my first R&R workshop at Kripalu Center.

I had been teaching in a Newark, New Jersey high school for many years before that—perhaps 18?

Nevertheless, teaching at Kripalu was beyond-daunting. I felt a profound responsibility to speak “spiritual truth.”

Please note the quotes surrounding my overblown assumption.

As a new member of the Kripalu ashram, I was flattered and awed by the opportunity, one bestowed upon me, I believed, by my simply surviving Malcolm X Shabazz High School for all those years.

Nevertheless, Kripalu’s Forest Room was quite the leap from Johnson Avenue in Newark.

I practiced “om-ing”, quietly chanting to myself on my walks and in the bathrooms, obsessively watchful for the vibration of the chant in my chest, as the senior teachers encouraged.

I couldn’t feel anything in my chest, perhaps just some tightening anxiety creeping upwards from my belly!

Oh, no!

Imposter Syndrome raged in my head in the weeks building up to the workshop.

Who did I think I was, teaching such a subject?

I didn’t really know; wasn’t I just making stuff up?

More om practice was needed, that was for certain!

The Grace of Surrender was the title of my workshop.  In it, I intended to praise the spiritually evolved practice of surrendering into life as it is.  I was positive that the evolved amongst us, of which I was clearly not included (shhhh—that was a giant secret), lived constantly in the flow of surrender.

That was the goal.

Or so I thought.

I don’t have much memory of the workshop, just brimming terror at the threatening, the terrifying, the overwhelming—leading that daunting first public om.

Cut to 2019, many an om later:

I led the same workshop this morning.

The Grace of Surrender.

It’s a gift I do believe, to have a consistent “thing”, a touchstone, to return to, into which we can see our growth, our evolution, our process.  Teaching is clearly that for me. More powerfully, this single workshop is a shiny, a highly reflective mirror.

This is what is different today—this is what I realize about myself as a teacher, a practitioner, a human:

  • I don’t have to have all the answers to be able to teach.
  • Actually, the fewer answers I think I have, the more productive the teaching session can be as well as my life moments can be.
  • My role as a facilitator is to create the circumstances in which the teachings can emerge from each of us.
  • I guide that process; I am not that process.
  • Living spiritually means more than just surrendering into life.
  • Living spiritually means skillfully using my will, taking right actions that support my partnership with the moment.
  • Unlike twenty-eight years ago, when I thought willful actions were somehow inferior, today I believe that skillfully taking actions and letting go of the outcome, can offer us masterful navigation of the moment.

Living yoga investigates our right relationship to the reality of the moment; the right use of will, coupled with the grace of surrender, carries us forward.

There is unfortunately no formula, no ratio of each.

There is only practice.

Practice—watching without judgment, noticing our actions, realigning with intention.

We are works in progress.

And each iteration of the moment along our journey is the essential, the glorious, the stunning thread woven into the tapestry of our days.

All has led us here.

All threads from our past coming together become the entirety, to date, of Us.

Of our incredibly imperfect yet magical lives.

Magical mystery tour, indeed!

Let’s relax.

Let’s breathe.

Let’s enjoy the moment.

May all actions be like seeds planted in the earth of surrender.

~~~

Dear Folks, I hope your transition into spring is a delicious one.  Do you have anything in your life which is consistent, in which you can see your changes, your evolution, your shifting perspective?  Consider. And please do keep in touch. I am aruni@rnetworx.com.

All blessings!

Springtime Snow

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Springtime Snow

After a fantastic, sunny and spacious dip into the Vacationland, followed by a harrowing week of over-commitment and New England snow, I find myself unusually speechless.  

If you know me, you understand that last comment.

Generally I am not a woman of few words.  

Yet, on this rainy Friday, I am clueless in Lenox.

Ticking away is the techno-clock, calling for this unwritten blog to manifest into presence.

Keeping it succinct and simple, two other qualities I don’t easily cozy up to, let me just say:

It is all true!

We get it all.

We get:

  • Sunny, spacious vacations
  • Harrowing and overwhelming work weeks
  • Fear of letting go
  • Effortless surrender
  • Tender vulnerability
  • Resilient strength
  • Boundless energy
  • Achy, tired feel

We get it all.

We cannot have one aspect without the other, dear friends of integrated consciousness.

We are living unity.  We are living presence.

Life is calling us into a widening, a deepening, an opening up to all aspects of ourselves.

Living mindfully calls us into the human dilemma with all compassion for ourselves.

Mindfulness encourages us to remember—the doorway to Grace is through the human moment.

The headache~

The fear~

The lack of knowing~

The speechlessness~

They present themselves, these inevitable human opportunities, moment after moment, calling for our attention.  

Through breath, through relaxed acknowledgment, we are carried through them, through the portal of humanity, into freedom, into grace, into choice, into possibility.

That sacred pause, where choice and freedom reside!

Bless our humanness, dear friends!

Bless our flaws and our desires, our miscalculations, our injuries to ourselves and to the ones we dearly love.

May we relax into and acknowledge them without judgment.

May we befriend all aspects of ourselves, as best we can.

May we be carried home.

Bless our wacky humanity.
Bless our remarkable spirits.
Bless our glorious bodies that hold it all.

~~~

Dear Folks, as Spring ever so slowly finds her way toward us, how are you doing?  What aspect of your humanity is presenting itself for your befriending? What are you noticing?  Please remember—I am right here and so appreciate your feedback. I am aruni@rnetworx.com.

All blessings,
Aruni

Preference?

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Preference?
Blessed by a Bird

 

Driven by ridiculously powerful people-pleasing when first sober, I was committed to becoming the best little sober person on Planet Earth.  Early on in my program, I took the Dictates Seriously, diving into their form without much introspection or thought.

A bird taught me differently.

Buzz the Bird came to me in a dream during my early days in the ashram.  She came again in meditation, and then, again and again, wanting to move in. Finally, I surrendered and found her, a baby, feathered and soft, at the pet store; I named her Buzz.  A cockatiel, she moved into my tiny ashram room, full-fledged and full-feathered a roommate.

Clearly, she was smarter than I.

We had many an ashram adventure, she and I, walking through the halls of the then-less-corporate Kripalu, chanting om at every meeting I attended, encountering the guru on the back stairwell—avian was less impressed with the enlighten master than one might imagine.

Early in her life, which was early in both my ashram life and my sobriety, I decided to cut her flight feathers, saving us the hassle of going to the vet every few months.  A friend showed me how to do it—an easy procedure, indeed.

Snip, snip, no problem.

Except there was.

I cut her feathers easily.  All seemed good.

Then she stretched her wing, and blood splattered on the wall.

Oh, no.

An urgent trip to the vet followed.  She was cauterized and sent home with instructions—keep her warm, we’ll see how she is in the morning.

SEE HOW SHE IS IN THE MORNING!

An unthinkable veterinary sendoff.

I spent hours on the bathroom floor that night, not wanting to disturb my injured companion.  Twelve Step program warned me against praying for what I wanted. Committed to that spiritual principle with earnest rigidity, I endlessly repeated, Your will not mine be done.

I said it a thousand times, with tears and snot and more tears, and a whole lot more snot.

I was doing It Right, praying without preference.

Right?

It felt terrible.

I felt terrible.

Hours later, Buzz entered my heart more deeply, her adorable and fluffy feathers, her orange spots/permanent/rouge-for-life, her funny little wiggle/walk, her fantastic, full vocabulary of Pretty Bird.

Wait.

It dawned on me—it flooded through me.

I have a preference.

And my preference came streaming out:

Please, God,
If it be your will,
Let Buzzie be okay.
And give me the willingness
And
The courage
To be present
With
Whatever you give me!

It was a radical and “wrong” prayer, but it felt so right, so true; it just clicked into truth inside of me.

Of course, I have a preference!  That was a profound revelation, to allow myself to feel that, to remember that, to accept it, and to repeat that inside my heart.  

Then, most importantly, to surrender, to ask for the guidance and help to be present with whatever unfolded.

It was a massive left turn in my prayer life.

I finally fell asleep on a friend’s floor, all for fear of disturbing the avian-healing-process, in the room that was now 86 degrees.

The morning came.  

I found my way to her cage, cautiously peeled away the four blankets that covered her cage.

I was greeted with the most wonderful morning blessing:

Pretty bird.

Buzz lived on and on for many happy and shared years, after her intervention in my prayer life. This was only one of many, many lessons she offered me.

She taught me so much; this particular, avian-inspired lesson about preference created a deepening and a shifting in my understanding of prayer.

OF COURSE, WE HAVE PREFERENCES.

How could we not?  We are human.

I know the Zen Koan that says:

The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.

I hear this truth, yet I recognize that is way above my payroll grade.  

I am just not there yet.

I want what I want.  That’s my humanity speaking.  Yet, to offer it up, to surrender to reality, to ask for help and support being present, no matter what happens—that’s the prayer that I need;

Honoring my humanity.

Respecting my human attachments.

Acknowledging and accepting my feelings.

And ultimately surrendering to what happens.

Thanks, Buzzie.  I do miss you so.

~~~

Dear Friends, please enjoy this blog.  I am headed out on vacation in mere moments.  You will not be receiving a blog on Sunday the 24th.  I’ll be back on the airwaves the last Sunday of the month.

May you be healthy,
May you be happy.
May you ride the waves
Of your life.
May you live in peace,
No matter what
You are given.

All blessings,
Aruni

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