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On Being Human - December 1999

According to the great sages from the east, the odds of human birth are something like a thousand to one. Apparently, we have a far better chance of manifesting as a worm or a bacteria, than a human being. I like to meditate on this, as a reminder of what a rare and precious gift this life of ours really is.

The older I get, the more I understand the fragile beauty of our existence. I stand at the doorway of the new millennium, peering into the second half of my life, with a daughter learning to drive, a father-in-law struggling with A.L.S., in a society where shootouts and terrorism are daily headlines. I'm acutely aware that grief and loss, come along as part of the treasure-trove that is, being human. It's a package deal.

Change is inevitable. Houses need painting. Children leave home. Faces wrinkle. Rick Fields, the former editor of Yoga Journal and author of Chop Wood, Carry Water, when confronted with terminal cancer, was quoted as saying, "I'm going to live until I die. And the doctor is going to live until he dies. He thinks he knows when I'm going to die, but he doesn't even know when he's going to die."

Most of us are caught unprepared when the events and players around us shift. We are stunned that our hair is turning gray, that our bodies are losing their youthful exuberance. It's as though we believe there is some exclusive contract ensuring a different set of rules for us. We haven't been taught how to gracefully accept the natural evolution of change, and instead spend our time attempting to dodge it.

Our culture grooms us to look outside of ourselves for a sense of satisfaction and security. As one after another of the objects of our desire fail to fulfill us, we grasp for and attach ourselves to something or someone else; the next job, a new hair style, the perfect love. Of course, hair grows out and lovers inevitably end up snoring, or leaving the toilet seat up. It's clear that as long as we believe that contentment is dependent on these transitory things, we will suffer.

Grace comes when grasping ceases. As my dear friend Lahar says, "Whatever is meant to happen will happen, and whatever is not, won't." It's a simple truth, but one that we can drain a lifetime's worth of energy defying. This is not about complacency, but rather about letting go of that which we can not change.

Through yoga we begin to learn to be at ease with ourselves as we are. Breath by breath, we befriend time, keeping the focus on this moment, this sensation, this stretch. We cultivate an understanding of the subtle imbalances in our physical bodies and where we store tension. As we close our eyes and tune inward, we take the first step towards letting go.

Sometimes the internal noise can be an even greater deterrent than all the outward commotion. We must consciously shut off the running tape inside our heads - in other words, our own neurotic patterns of mind. As we begin to unhook from the things we "need" and "want", and "believe will sustain us", we come to see things for how they really are.

Beneath all of the grasping, we find there is a place in us that is still. This too is the human condition. But, our minds, fractured by fear and confusion, aren't skilled in quiet. That's why practice becomes a necessary tool. The more we visit that placid pool beneath the waterfall, the more we come to rely on it as the true source of our stability. By letting go, we release the illusion that we can stop the current, and instead become expert at riding the waves.

The truth of our own mortality lies within our solitude. It is in those moments of stillness that we recognize the profound connection of ourselves to everyone else in life, and inevitably, in death. Yet, it is also this quiet that cultivates gratitude, and a sense of appreciation for all that is, even that which brings us sorrow.

In Peace,

The Yoga Barn, Inc.
Robin Rothenberg, Certified Yoga Instructor
660 NW Gilman Blvd., Suite C6, Issaquah, WA  98027
Studios located in both Issaquah and Fall City
Phone: 425.427.0038  -  Fax: 425.427.0613
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