I worship at yoga.

29 09 2009

This past Sunday morning my mom made her rounds around the house to inform my little brother and sister of the fact that we were all going to church. By the time she made her way to me, I was already in my workout gear. She didn’t have to ask. She already knew. I was opting out of church and going to my place of worship instead.

My mother is well aware of the fact that organized religion leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But every now and then, I think my agnostic tendencies still get to her. This must have been one of those times.

“I like going to church so I can reflect.”

Good, I thought. She set me up perfectly.

“Well, I like going to yoga so I can reflect.”

It’s true. I’ve never felt more spiritually connected (to what or to whom still remains in question) than when I am fully immersed in my yoga practice. I’ve never felt more grateful for my blessings than when my mind and body become one through a rigorous series of asanas. The physical, mental and emotional clarity that I gain from a single hour of practice is unmatched.

I know my mom still struggles to understand my viewpoint on spirituality and religion. I understand that it must be painful for her to see me “rebel” against something that she believes in. To be honest, I, myself find it challenging to explain my feelings to people who feel so strongly in the opposite direction.

The fact of the matter is that I don’t know what I believe in and I find it extremely difficult to simply adhere to a belief set for the sake of being comforted (apologies in advance to those who may be offended by that statement). Instead, I prefer to seek comfort, empowerment and spiritual understanding through myself, through my own mind and body, which is exactly what the practice of yoga allows me to do.

Namaste.





“I love you & I’m going to pray for you”

20 06 2009

Those were the last words spoken to me by my cab driver as he dropped me off in front of my apartment last night, or rather this morning, at 3:00am.

Needless to say, it was quite the ride.

It started off relatively uneventful. We exchanged names immediately and quickly found common ground. Al was from Asheville, North Carolina. The same beautiful southern town where my Mom grew up.

I then gave Al the cliff notes version of my life story. We chatted casually about my growing up in Virginia and about why I made the move to Boston. And then things shifted.

All of a sudden, he hit me with it:

“Do you believe in God?”

It took me awhile to process the question. Did my cab driver really just ask me that? My thoughts must have been written all over my face because he quickly back peddled.

“I’m sorry. Was that out of line? Did I upset you?”

To which I had to respond with the cliff notes version of my religious/spiritual life story.

I guess he wasn’t particularly pleased with my lack of religious conviction because then he started preaching – and he continued preaching for the duration of the cab ride. And once we arrived at my apartment, he really started to hit his stride. He set the cab in park, turned to face me and drove his point home. Oh, and was he good! He kept closing his eyes for dramatic effect. He raised and lowered his voice to emphasize his most important points. I felt as if he could break into a gospel chorus at any moment.

After about 10 minutes of sitting directly outside my front door (yes, TEN minutes!), he finally started to notice my restlessness.

“I’m sorry. Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me.”

And so we closed in prayer.

I’m not kidding. He took my hands, said a prayer for me and then – finally! – sent me on my way.

“I love you and I’m going to pray for you.”





The Little Book of Not What The Title Makes You Think…

21 02 2009

Ever heard of the expression, “don’t judge a book by its cover?” Ha, silly question. Of course you have. Who hasn’t?

The expression must have started a couple years ago when The Little Book of Atheist Spirituality was written.

Just checked Wikipedia…and it appears as if I was wrong. Turns out the phrase first appeared back in 1944 in the journal American Speech. But it didn’t start out as “don’t judge a book by its cover” – it was originally “you can’t judge a book by its binding.” Then in 1946, the phrase appeared again, slightly modified, in Murder in the Glass Room as “you can never tell a book by its cover.”

However, and perhaps more interestingly, the idea has existed much longer than the above variations of the phrase. The concept itself was addressed in the introduction of La vie de Gargantua et de Pantagruel back in the 16th century.

François Rabelais writes:

You, my good disciples—and other fools with too much time on their hands—reading the cheerful titles of some of my books, can more easily perceive that they’re not just about mocking and scoffing, full of silliness and pleasant lies—having seen, without having to look any harder, that their outer image (that is, their titles) is usually received with mocking laughter and jokes. But it’s wrong to be so superficial when you’re weighing men’s work in the balance. Wouldn’t you yourself say that the monk’s robes hardly determine who the monk is? Or that there are some wearing monks’ robes who, on the inside, couldn’t be less monkish? Or that there are people wearing Spanish capes who, when it comes to courage, couldn’t have less of the fearless Spanish in them? And that’s why you have to actually open a book and carefully weigh what’s written there.

And if we – and by we I mean Wikipedia – take it even further back we find that the Roman author Juvenal also touched on the concept in the 1st and 2nd centuries AD. In Satires, he writes “Fronti nulla fides,” which translates to “Never have faith in the front.”

So it seems the phrase wasn’t manufactured just to describe the book that currently occupies all my spare thoughts. But we already knew that, didn’t we?

And so I digress…

But actually, this leads me to a good point. Well, maybe not a good point, but a point nevertheless…the whole “don’t judge a book by its cover” concept is cliché and overused, yes, but do many people actually take the time to really think about what it means? It certainly seems as if a lot of people make a habit of having faith in the front, to borrow from Juvenal, and have a very difficult time seeing past their first thought or initial opinion. But I guess that’s just part of what makes first impressions so powerful. Once an impression has been formed, it is very hard to rewind that initial sequence of events – or thoughts – to recreate or remold it.

In the case of a book, which is what I originally intended to discuss here in the first place, first impressions don’t matter quite as much. Sure, there will be people who won’t buy a book because its cover (or backcover, or even spine in some cases) leads them to believe the book is about something that would not interest them. However, there are just as many people that will buy the book, thinking the book will be about one thing…only to discover that the pages between the covers contain something completely different than what they were expecting. So both groups lose, in a sense.

But what happens when you delete the word “book” from the above example? And add “person” or “experience” in its place. Then insert “first impression” into the space that “cover” occupied. And replace “buy” with “get to know” or “try.”

Did I just make it too confusing?

Let’s simplify. What happens when you don’t get to know a person because of your first impression? What happens when you don’t try a new experience because of your first impression of what it might (or might not) be?

A little more serious than just a book you may have missed out on reading, right?

And if you go back to the book example once more to look at that second group – the group that bought the book thinking it would be something they would enjoy only to find that the book didn’t interest them in the least. Again, replace all the key words…What happens when you get to know a person or try a new experience, only to find the person or the experience doesn’t exactly suit you? Wasted time? In this case, I don’t think so…in fact, I feel that it is quite the opposite. To keep with the clichés, it is far better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. In my opinion, it is far better for me to have tried something (new, different…) only to discover that the particular something in question isn’t really my thing (person, experience…) than never to have tried at all.

I’ve always considered myself to be a very open minded person and I have always tried to resist judging books (or people, or places, or experiences, or ideas…or anything for that matter) by their covers. But that fact of the matter is sometimes you can’t help it. It just happens. Sometimes without the knowledge of it even happening, subconsciously, if you will. So here I am, thinking about all the “books” I may have missed out on “reading” in my life, simply because my initial impression told me they wouldn’t be worth my time. I guess it goes without saying that I most likely missed out on some pretty interesting reads…

But from here on out, I’m going to try to be even more open to anything that might take me a bit out of my comfort zone…such an approach might just lead me to some of the most interesting people and life changing experiences of my life.

With all of that said, I’m going to jump back into one read I am glad to say that I have not missed out on due to a faulty first impression…and I guess I’ll save my analysis and ramblings on The Little Book of [Not What The Title Makes You Think] Atheist Spirituality for another day.








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