Reflections from Manjunaga
These are a selection of Manjunaga’s monthly reflections sent out in his newsletter.
I recently spent a week teaching on a yoga and meditation retreat at Dhanakosa, a Buddhist retreat centre in Scotland located next to Loch Voil & the Trossachs National Park. Those of you who have been lucky enough to visit Dhanakosa will know It provides a quiet and beautiful setting for retreats.
During my stay I became aware of the chorus of bird song that would surround me every day. When we would meditate in the shrine room in the afternoon I particularly loved hearing the sound of a Woodpecker in the nearby trees, tapping away. I noticed that when I listened to sound of the Woodpecker it acted as a reminder to stay embedded in my body whist also staying connected with the world.
I reflected on how often we can lose our sense of belonging and connection to our environment and the world. The meditation teacher Paramananda wrote about this in his book, ‘The Body’ where he described watching a television programme about the culture of Indigenous Australian peoples.
“I was struck by their intimacy with the world around them. I was impressed not only by their vast knowledge of plants and animals, but also by their sense of care and appreciation for their environment, a profound sense of belonging within the landscape that brought forth a feeling of reverence and responsibility for the world that sustained them. They seemed totally at home in the world, in a deep, yet relaxed, intimacy with everything around them”.
How can we find our own way to connect more deeply with the environment and our world? This may not come naturally to us, we may not live directly in nature or be able to visit beautiful landscapes all the time. However, I think that in our daily lives our meditation and yoga practice can help us towards this goal.
When I mediate or do my yoga practice in the morning I try and come into a simple relationship with my body, feeling through my senses where my body meets the floor and when I do this I give myself the opportunity to notice any sensations through my pelvis, my back or my legs. Then, I open my awareness out to include any sounds around me in the room such as a ticking clock or the hum of a radiator. From there, I focus on the sounds outside of the room. For example, I have a neighbour who is a talented musician and I can often hear them practicing their guitar. Sometimes I hear children playing in the gardens outside my room. Rather than interpreting these sounds in my environment as an intrusion on my practice, I try and see them in the same way as I saw the Woodpecker – as a calling bringing me deeper into life and my connection with the world. If I can relax and open to the experience, I often feel more connected and embedded in the world and my life. From this, a natural desire to want to care for my community and the world around me comes alive and I feel less isolated.
“Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.”
E. M. Foster – ‘Howards End’
A friend recently shared a photo with me on Twitter of a young woman performing a very elaborate yoga posture, she was doing a headstand while in full lotus. As if this wasn’t enough, she was also doing this whilst only balancing on her head with her arms not touching the ground!
Over the years I have attended many classes and workshops and, as part of the wider yoga community, I have come into contact with many teachers of different yoga traditions. One of the things that I have noticed in the modern world of yoga is that it is very fixated on asana, the physical postures. It seems to me that the implicit aim or goal of a lot of modern yoga classes is one of physical gymnastics which, enjoyable as this may be, kind of misses the point. Perhaps it is helpful to be reminded that in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra of the eight limbs of training, asana is only one limb – there are actually another seven that explore ethics, meditation, etc. Patanjali places a lot more emphasis on using the body as a vehicle to support and explore meditative states of consciousness than he does in mastering an impressive back bend.
This over-emphasis and obsession on physical yoga postures can be seen regularly on social media. The majority of the photos shared by yoga teachers on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter are showing mastery of elaborate yoga poses. I feel there is a danger in this, as it gives a strong message that the attainment of physical asana is the goal of a yoga practice.
Like a lot of yoga practitioners, I enjoy a physical yoga practice and the benefits that it gives, so my comments are not an attack on yoga asana, but a call for balance and an awareness of the wider context in which it is held.
The modern hatha yoga tradition as we know it originated in ancient India and was heavily influenced by Hindu Brahmanism. There was also a cross-fertilisation of ideas occurring over hundreds of years between Hindu thought and Buddhism. The problem I feel is that the modern yoga we may come across has been removed from the context that supported it. The original goal of yoga is a far cry from what we find in most yoga studios today. I would go as far as to say that what passes for yoga in most gyms and yoga studios is a physical gymnastic body routine, with a liberal sprinkling of vague new-age ideas or a dash of Hinduism.
I often give an example to my students that if you are in a busy supermarket after a day at work and you are feeling stressed and overwhelmed, being able to balance on your head is not much help!. But if you are able to work with your mind and connect to a quality of spacious, open awareness and relax, then you are going to be more able to respond creatively to the challenges that life offers us.
“In recent times the practice of asana or hatha yoga has become synonymous with the practice of Yoga. This is unfortunate. The perfection of asana was never meant as the goal of Yoga, nor will standing on our head for an hour signal some major achievement on our spiritual path. This misconception is understandable given our obsession with form and our desire to have some kind of concrete evidence of attainment.”
Donna Farhi – yoga teacher
When was the last time you felt an emotion that you did not want to feel?
In a recent TED talk, “The Gift and Power of Emotional Courage” Psychologist Susan David explored our flexibility with the emotions we feel in our lives. She mentioned a survey she conducted with over 70,000 people where a third of those people judged themselves for having, ‘bad emotions’ like sadness, anger or grief, or made attempts to push these emotions away. She went on to say, “…normal, natural emotions are now seen as ‘good’ or ‘bad’…” Susan argued that by becoming emotionally agile and allowing ourselves to feel, acknowledge and talk about the full spectrum of our emotions we allow ourselves to live more fully than if we are rigid. For example, trying to push away less appealing emotional states or distract ourselves from them by embracing a false positivity. Susan said something I really liked, “…being positive has become a new form of moral correctness.”
I found it really refreshing to hear this. I feel as a society we have placed a strong emphasis on having a positive attitude. I have noticed this to be even more prevalent in the modern yoga world, where there appears to be a heavy focus on the goals of happiness and positivity (and their corresponding emotions) almost as if they are solid and fixed states. My experience of life however has been that these states are a more ephemeral experience; maybe they last a few hours, a day or week, even a month, but at some point it changes and something else emerges.
As my practice of yoga and meditation deepened, I noticed that by being in the world and in relation to life itself our states and emotions are in a constant state of movement. We hear news that touches us, and we feel sad; then maybe later a friend makes us laugh and a lightness enters our experience; a little later on we hear something that makes our blood boil. So, I am inclined to believe that these aspirational states of emotional positivity (we might be able to achieve if we just work hard enough) can be a very misleading view and I wonder if it might cause us to reject our more challenging emotions, wanting certain feelings to just go away. Susan described this as ‘Dead People Goals’.
“Only dead people never get unwanted or inconvenienced by their feelings. Only dead people never get stressed, never get broken hearts, never experience the disappointment that comes with failure. Tough emotions are part of our contract with life.”
Learning to deal with the world how it is and not how we want it to be is challenging. You could say in a nutshell, life is very much a bitter-sweet experience and the emotions we feel on a day to day basis reflect this. The sooner we can truly begin to understand how important it is to be emotionally agile instead of chasing a fixed idea of ‘positivity’ or ‘happiness’ the easier our way in the world may be.
Discomfort is the price of admission to a meaningful life
Susan David Psychologist
On the 6th May 1954 as a 25 year old medical student Roger Bannister became the first man to run a mile in under four minutes. Pandemonium broke out within the crowd of 3,000 spectators when news spread that he had officially beaten the four minute mile. What is interesting about this story, apart from his athletic achievement is that up until that point it was considered impossible for a human to run the mile in under four minutes. After that day things changed and a new belief was held that it was now possible to do so. After a while it became normal for world class athletes in competition to run the mile under four minutes.
What this story beautifully illustrates is the power of belief and the nature of our minds and capabilities. The idea that somebody before has performed a certain action allows us to feel that maybe we could do the same. I feel that when we glimpse a vision of our potential, we are then able to move towards that vision knowing that others have done so before us.
There have been many times in my life when stories about people overcoming great difficulties and obstacles, together with a belief in my human potential, have given me the confidence to step into the unknown and embrace my potential. Maybe you can think of events in your own life when you have done the same? It may be giving up smoking after many years, or leaving a job to explore something that feels more of a vocation to you. However big or small our steps are in life we can hold the vision that we are much more than we could possibly imagine.
“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Joseph Campbell, Mythologist
“The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in ‘68,
And he told me all romantics meet the same fate someday
Cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe”.
The haunting opening line of Joni Mitchell’s song, “The last time I saw Richard” from her 1971 LP ‘Blue’. Anyone familiar with this album will know it contains doses of both confessional longing and romantic disillusionment. I once heard it described as, “…beautiful pain.”
When I was in my twenties, a friend of mine used to like to tease me because I was a hopeless romantic and they joked that one day I too would meet a similar fate to the character in the song. In more recent years I have begun to wonder if maybe they were right? I may have avoided becoming a drunk but I have noticed developing in myself a deeper sense of disillusionment and at times, cynicism towards life.
In a 1979 Rolling Stone interview with Cameron Crowe, Mitchell said of ‘Blue’:
“There’s hardly a dishonest note in the vocals. At that period of my life, I had no personal defences. I felt like a cellophane wrapper on a pack of cigarettes. I felt like I had absolutely no secrets from the world and I couldn’t pretend in my life to be strong. Or to be happy. But the advantage of it in the music was that there were no defences there either.”
The emotional rawness on ‘Blue’ is something I can relate to. After the death of my girlfriend Elaine, I found it was an album that I played continuously. It was as if the songs on ‘Blue’ mirrored my own desolate inner landscape of feeling broken hearted and disillusioned by life.
As we engage with our lives we will all undergo a journey from naive innocence to mature experience and this seems part of a natural process of becoming an adult in the world. As I look at my own life, I often ask myself the question: Can I stay open hearted in relationship to the world, or is living with a certain level of disillusionment and cynicism just a part of getting older?
The answer is, I like to believe it is possible to carry the wounds that come from being in the world, but that we can also simultaneously step into life feeling connected to others. Allowing ourselves to be seen, to love and be loved, to be vulnerable, strong and to get things right and make mistakes. Embracing our lives more fully, building a deeper relationship with what it is to be fully human and alive.
There is a moving story in the Buddhist tradition about the birth of the goddess Tara. It is said that Avalokiteshvara the bodhisattva of compassion looked upon all the suffering in the world and as he did tears fell from his eyes. The tears then began to form a lake in which a lotus developed. As the lotus opened, a beautiful woman appeared, the goddess Tara.
Tara is a manifestation of compassion and gentle kindness. Her name can mean ‘star’ but it is usually understood to mean ‘saviouress’. Tara is one of the most popular figures found within the Buddhist tradition.
Reflecting on this story I was reminded how often I am confronted by the huge amount of suffering and pain that exists in the world and it can all seem so overwhelming. In recent years I have found it helpful to hold the perspective that there will always be some suffering in the world and no matter how hard I try, I cannot alleviate it all.
Does this mean that we should then give up? Not at all, but instead come into relationship with our own suffering and that of others in a different way. I am reminded of the saying, ‘Think globally, act locally’. This means that we try to hold a larger perspective of the world and humanity whilst seeing that our small acts of kindness and compassion towards our family, friends and community all have an effect on the world we live in. We can have trust and confidence that, like a small stone dropped into a pond, our acts of kindness and love can ripple out touching the lives of many people and creating a kinder, more loving world in which to live.
“Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you”.
Many years ago I found myself in a cinema in Manchester during the festive season. As the lights went up at the end of the film, I looked around to see people wiping tears from their eyes, and likewise during the course of the film I had been moved to tears myself on several occasions. I had gone to watch a film that you can guarantee will be showing on TV or at your local cinema as part of the Christmas celebrations. It is Frank Capra’s classic ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’. Made in 1947 and starring a great cast including James Stewart, Donna Reed and Lionel Barrymore, Capra’s film has a Dickensian quality to it. James Stewart plays the role of a selfless man George Bailey who is much loved in the small town of Bedford Falls; it’s a story of redemption that follows his suicidal despair one Christmas night. Clarence the angel appears and shows George how much of a dark and sad place the world would have been without him.
I believe that the reason the film is so loved by so many people is (not only due to Capra’s masterful direction and story-telling) because it illustrates a deeper, fundamental truth about the nature of reality. The truth is: that every life is of value and is important. We can often feel powerless in our lives and insignificant, even isolated and alone. But we are all interconnected to each other and to all of life – the threads that connect us to others and the world are not always easy to see. Even after many years of practising Buddhist meditation and yoga I still find myself at times struggling to see and accept that my actions touch other people’s lives.
A small act of kindness or a harsh word or action can have a profound effect, beyond what we can imagine. We have a responsibility for the world we live in; we are not separate from it but embedded in a network of complex patterns of connection. It can be helpful to stop and reflect on our lives and all we have done through our actions – great and small. The small acts of kindness shown to others bring us into deeper relationship with the world. Think of all the different people in your life and how their lives would be without you, and then you will begin to see the profound ordinary beauty that is your life.
“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?’
Clarence The Angel from ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’
On a Saturday in December 1967, a young man went down to his local record shop in London called ‘One Stop Records’. On this Saturday in question the young man had gone to buy Donovan’s new album ‘A Gift From a Flower to a Garden’. As he queued to pay, he glanced around at the people behind him and saw Michael Caine patiently waiting his turn, holding the album ‘Forever Changes’ by Love.
This album was released by Elektra Records on 1st November 1967 and this month will be its 50th anniversary. ‘Forever Changes’ failed to achieve commercial success when it was first released, but has gone on to be recognized as one of the greatest albums ever made.
Upon its release the Los Angeles Times wrote, “The album can survive endless listening with no diminishing either of power or of freshness”, while noting “…parts of the album are beautiful; others are disturbingly ugly, reflections of the pop movement towards realism”.
‘Forever Changes’ has a musical background of lush orchestral string arrangements and mariachi style brass accompaniment. It manages to effortlessly move between haunting beauty one moment and eerie darkness the next, combined with Arthur Lee’s surreal, unsettling lyrics such as “Sitting on a hillside watching all the people die / I’ll feel much better on the other side” you have unique album like no other.
I first discovered the album whilst studying at art college and soon fell under its intoxicating spell. I have discovered it’s an album that once you fall in love with, the love lasts a lifetime. One of the enduring themes within the album is its exploration of the human condition. It touches on themes of life, death, beauty and time.
One of the central Buddhist teachings is that all things are impermanent and subject to change and flux. Simply stated, nothing in the world around us or our self is fixed or solid. There are no things, just process and flux. There is no fixed unchanging centre in any object in our experience. Unfortunately, we suffer and experience difficulties in life because we perceive the world around us as solid, looking for stability where there is none.
Discovering these Buddhist teachings on impermanence and this vision of life as flowing change and process, rather than something solid and permanent was for me, exciting and profound it was as if Buddhism was articulating something I intuitively sensed in the world, but was not able to articulate. What I love about ‘Forever Changes’ is that within the medium of a rock album, we encounter similar profound insights on life that can be found in the teachings of Buddhism.
Sometimes within popular culture we can find genuine works of art that have the ability to change our lives for the better. ‘Forever Changes’ is I feel, one such work of art and it is just as relevant today as it was in 1967.
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.”
So wrote Ernest Hemingway in his novel A Farewell to Arms.
I was reminded of these words recently as October marks the second anniversary of the death of my beloved girlfriend Elaine. Since her death, I have been living with the subsequent grief that comes from loosing a partner you loved and planned to spend the rest of your life with. I feel my heart broke the day Elaine died and something in me died with her. I have lived these last few years with a sense of feeling broken. At the same time my life has continued to unfold and I try to engage with it. I go to work, do the weekly food shop, pay the bills, spend time with friends and family. Yet beneath all this, a sense of being broken continues. When we have something broken in our lives, we generally try and mend it or fix it.
In Japan there is a word Kintsukuroi or 金繕い which means “Golden Repair”
Kintsukuroi or kintsugi is the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and silver or gold.
The flaws of the broken pottery are highlighted by this process. There is an understanding that the new piece is more beautiful for having been broken. The flaw in the pottery is seen.
as part of the history of the object, creating its own unique beauty, rather than something to disguise or be hidden. It is in fact more beautiful for having been broken.
If we take the image of the broken piece of pottery and it’s golden repair, we may reflect on our own lives and the places that may feel broken within us. Maybe rather than feeling a need to hide those aspects of ourselves, we could allow them to be visible to the world, learning to carry them with us. The broken flaw is now a part of us, it never leaves us, but it also doesn’t define us as we begin to look towards the future and the life we can imagine for ourselves.
There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow
beyond all grief which leads to joy
and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.
There is a hollow space
too vast for words
through which we pass with each loss,
out of whose darkness
we are sanctioned into being.
There is a cry deeper than all sound
whose serrated edges cut the heart
as we break open to the place inside
which is unbreakable and whole,
while learning to sing.
My grandmother had a love of the silver screen and as a small boy I would happily spend afternoons with her watching iconic films such as, Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Lady Vanishes’ which starred the great British actress Margaret Lockwood. Who during the war years was Britain’s number one box office star, starring in films such as ‘The Man in Grey’ and ‘The Wicked Lady’. One day, I was shown a fascinating photo of her which was signed to my Great Grandfather Adam Moffat. The faded inscription read “To Adam, best wishes from Margaret Lockwood & Toots.’
Upon further investigation I discovered my Great Grandfather had been given the photo after she had visited the clothing factory where he worked as a foreman in 1948. Accompanying the photo was a letter thanking him for a kilt he made for her daughter Toots:
“Dear Mr. Moffat, Just a note from myself and Toots to thank you personally for the very useful and charming kilt which you made for her. It was a most pleasant surprise and added a great deal to my enjoyment of a most interesting visit to your factory. Thank You again Yours Sincerely Margaret Lockwood”
I share this story with you because this experience gave me a sense that the world was suddenly bigger than the one I previously known. I began to discover a love of the cinema, the theatre and art which developed a sense of meaning and creativity I had not previously been exposed to. For me, the arts provided a vital gateway into life. They helped me make sense of what it was to be alive and in the world, with all its complexity.
Many years later I inherited that photo of Margaret Lockwood and it know sits framed in my flat. When I look at it, I feel a thread of connection not only to my family, but also to my early love of the arts in all forms and how much they have enriched my life for the better.
“The arts, quite simply, nourish the soul. They sustain, comfort, inspire. There is nothing like that exquisite moment when you first discover the beauty of connecting with others in celebration of larger ideals and shared wisdom”.