Losing Labels

Greetings NIP,

            I love language. I love the way that certain words sound or the way they can be strung together to convey complex ideas. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been moved by words. This love of language continued during my collegiate studies, as I double majored in Classics to study Latin and ancient Greek. I then went on to study American Literature while working on my MA in Religious Studies. Still consumed by logophilia, I devoured works of the written word in an effort to appreciate the author’s ability to mold meaning from otherwise lifeless vessels of abstract, phonetic symbols. Even as a Human Geography teacher, I discuss language with my students because it is one of the critical components of culture. It is in this vein in particular that I’ve been most fascinated with lately. If our language is part of our cultural heritage, then it defines us in ways that we probably don’t often think about. While words in and of themselves are meaningless, the shared meaning that is mutually understood by those who speak the language and/or live within the particular cultural context in question is not. The universality of meaning arises from consensus, which is something we don’t often recognize. We take meaning for granted. But it is in taking meaning for granted that can get us into trouble, especially when we use our words indiscriminately or thoughtlessly to label others or ourselves.

            While labels can be helpful to discern one item or idea from another, they can be downright insidious when applied to people. It’s probably difficult to imagine a world without adjectives or a language without descriptors to modify the meaning of words, because part of our interaction with the world is one of classification. We love to compartmentalize our information (and our lives, truth be told) and try to separate “this” from “that.” In so doing, however, we invite comparison in through the backdoor. When we start to compare, it is inevitable that we will also contrast the two ideas or objects and, in some measure or another, label one as better than the other. Sure, concepts and/or things don’t have any preference as to how they’re labeled, but people do. And whether we realize it or not, behind the labels we so casually employ are judgments. We may not see them consciously as such, but they are there underneath the implied meaning that the culture has given these words. For instance, just think about a few polar opposites: black / white; Democrat / Republican; gay / straight; poor / rich. What comes to mind? Depending on your own convictions and perspective on the world, probably a whole lot. You might champion one side over another, explaining your rationale for the choice. But when we use labels in this way, do we really see the person in question? Do we really try to get to know that person, or is that knowledge tinged by the way in which we view the world? Can we ever truly know another person objectively without judgment? Perhaps not, though I cannot say for sure. But with mindfulness we realize that there is some form of judgment that is carried out in the labeling of all phenomena, particularly when it comes to people. On a genetic level, human beings are 99.4% the same. Think about that. Six tenths of one percent represents every bit of variation that you see when you look out into the world of people. We are fundamentally all the same yet more often than not unwilling to recognize this fact because of differences in perception. So we continue trying to pigeonhole each other with labels as if any single one of those words could ever capture the combination of beautiful idiosyncrasies that comprise who we are in any given moment.

            The reason why I have been mulling over this in my mind for the past few weeks has to do with thoughts of an old friend/teacher, someone whom I had not thought about for more than a decade. But the thoughts of this old teacher were brought to my attention from a new teacher, Karin Stephan. For those of you who are not familiar with her, Karin was one of the first students of Iyengar (perhaps the man most responsible for yoga’s introduction to the West) who brought his teachings back to the United States in the 1970’s. While she taught Erin and me much during the two workshops we attended, both of us were more impressed by Karin the person than Karin’s yoga skills (which, after practicing for over 40 years, are incredible in the most etymologically formal sense of the word). From the first moment we met her, we knew we had serendipitously discovered our master teacher. Karin is perhaps one of the most authentic people I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with. At 69, she seemingly cares little for social convention that only serves as impediments to our progress in life. But this probably has to do with the old teacher to whom I was originally referring: Jiddu Krishnamurti. It’s quite possible you’ve never heard of this person, NIP; until Karin mentioned him, I’ve never heard anyone outside the context of Religious Studies utter his name. While many (if not most) people would know someone such as The Dalai Lama because of his rock star status among spiritual teachers, Krishnamurti seems to have been swept up into the pages of history without much fanfare. Though one could argue for the merit of his teachings, this would probably go against what Krishnamurti believed and perhaps explains why so few know of him. Karin, however, actually had the opportunity to learn from him directly while she was in India—in a tent, no less! It was through Karin’s teaching that I heard the echoes of Krishnamurti, which places utmost importance on letting someone be.

            At first, this sounds overly simplified. We often think of that expression in terms of not bothering someone, but to let someone be in this particular case is more about allowing the other person to live their lives in a manner that is consistent with his/her own perceptions of the world, not what our preconceived notions of how that person should live his/her own life (please don’t misconstrue this as vindicating cultural relativism). When we come into contact with “the other,” no matter who that person is, we have a static idea of who that person is. The reason I say static is that the idea in question is a product of presuppositions, much of which stem from past interactions with that person. Or, worse yet, we’ve had no interactions with that person and begin the process of labeling unconsciously. Even if we think the person is “nice” or “good” or “friendly” we are unintentionally defining the whole of that person—which is impossible. Krishnmurti was prescient in this regard. He knew that labels limit potential and only foster false divisions among people. He advocated giving up cultural constructs that only bring people into further conflict, whether with words or weapons. Religion, nationalism, politics, socioeconomic status, et cetera only divide humanity and create an “us” and “them” mentality. To rid ourselves of these spurious classifications is to achieve ultimate freedom (“freedom from the known” as Krishnamurti famously called it). Only by acknowledging the limits of our perception can we allow other to be. We cannot enter into relationships with solidified ideas of who we are or who others are, because in truth we are never the same. Are any of us identically the same from one moment to the next? Impossible. Even at the cellular level this is easily witnessed. We are not static, we are dynamic. Always changing, always on the precipice of possibility and potential to make our lives better and become the best of who we know we can be.

            This is what made Karin’s teaching so impressive. I think I can speak for just about every person in the workshop when I say that when Karin was teaching an individual, she was letting that person be. Karin entered the relationship with no preconceived notion concerning that person’s skill level. No matter where that student was in that specific moment, Karin only sought to help that person improve him/herself. Clearly, this impacted not only the alignment of my asanas (yoga poses), but the larger framework of orthopraxy. Yoga isn’t just about practicing on the mat, it’s about living it out in the context of real life. The whole world is my mat; I’m just trying to find my place on it and settle into the still point, the “choiceless awareness” of which Krishnamurti spoke. Meeting Karin proved to be a momentous point in my life. She illustrated the importance of entering into relationships without expectation, something that will ultimately have an impact on me not only as a yoga instructor but as an educator as well. While my students may not know it, they have played an integral part in my personal growth this year and for that I have nothing but love and gratitude for them. But it took meeting Karin to remind me of Krishnamurti’s teachings. As it says in the Bhagavad Gita, “someone who has seen the truth / will guide you on the path to wisdom” (4.34). Karin certainly did this for me, because there is a difference between seeing the path and walking upon it.

            While it may be impossible to completely eradicate labels from our way of thinking and interacting with the world, an important first step toward “freedom from the known” is simply being aware of when we are doing it (labeling). In your interactions with others, NIP, try not to limit that relationship’s potential with your ideas about who that person is, how that person is feeling, or any other limitation you may unwittingly apply in your mind. That person may have changed for the better since your last interaction. After all, isn’t that what life is? An opportunity to take part in the beauty that surrounds us and try to enhance it and ourselves in some way? Many of us take it as an assault on our personhood when others make sweeping generalizations about us, knowing that many of them are completely unfounded (and perhaps a twinge of regret when we know some of them are true). By trying to limit the labeling of others, we take on a new vantage point for interacting with those people. We enter into relationships—whether new or old—with a sense of purpose and discovery. Let the others in your life flower before you, NIP; you may be surprised by what you discover when your mind is open to new possibilities and not hampered by the limitation of labels.

Keep opening up, NIP…

- Ryan

P.S. – If you’re at all inclined to philosophical reading, I’d really recommend Jiddu Krishnamurti’s The First and Last Freedom. It is a series of talks that he gave in the 1950’s that were recorded and then later transcribed into this magnum opus. If you enter into it with an open mind, he’ll leave you with no answers and only more questions. But it is during this reflection we often find our own, personally intuitive answers. These are the ones we cannot afford to ignore if we’re seeking enlightenment.

The Tapestry of Life

Hey there, NIP,

            I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. It’s probably due to not writing last month and letting the ideas pile up like firewood outside a winter cabin, so I’ll try and get more letters written when opportune moments allow me to do so. This letter in particular has been on the back burner for some months, actually. In my previous letter I mentioned the C.F.A.s (Cultural Friday Activities) that I do with my students, and today’s letter thematically deals with an idea expressed in a William Stafford poem called “The Way It Is” that I read to my students a couple of months ago. If you’re not familiar with Stafford, he was a contemporary U.S. poet from Kansas who had a keen ability to vivify life’s most mundane moments and details with a beauty all their own. In a word, he could transcend the ordinary and bear witness to the sacred that undergirds all life. For those of you who haven’t read or know the poem, here it is:

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among

things that change. But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt

or die; and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you can do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.

            So what’s the thread, then? Only you can answer that, NIP. One of the powers of poetry is that it’s open to interpretation. When I read it to my students, however, I gave them my idea (well, it’s hardly mine; I think this is the common interpretation that many would give it): the thread is what defines us. We don’t always know where it’s going, but we can feel its tug on our lives. It is the meaning that we have given life and what we relentlessly pursue in the hopes of transforming our lives in some positive or beneficial way. This thread may take us down paths that others may find strange or incongruous to our cultural context (lines 3-5), but it is ultimately about shaping our reality with significance.

            There’s something else here, too. If we were to take a step back and reflect on the fact that everyone is (hopefully) doing this in his or her own way, then surely there must be paths of intersection. We are all following our own threads, leading our own lives. But this doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Each day the people with whom we interact are following their own threads, but our lives are somehow changed and altered through this transaction. Our threads comingle and become interwoven. In essence, the lives we touch become part of a broader work, a tapestry in which we are all an integral part.

            This idea, though, is not without consequence. It has made me realize that self-reliance is largely a myth, one that our society still espouses as being of utmost importance. To an extent I still agree. I think it is important to be self-reliant mentally. We are ultimately the product of our thoughts, words, and actions; hopefully we cultivate and use this mental self-reliance in order to make the best choices in our lives while building the most beneficial worldview. So it is important to be self-reliant in some sense, but perhaps more important is to see the larger picture of interdependence that is woven within our global tapestry of individual threads. Just about anything you engage with, NIP, whether it is purchasing a coffee, reading a book, cooking a meal, even seeing this letter on your computer screen is contingent upon innumerable other people. In the first example alone, someone grew and harvested the coffee, another person drove it on a truck, another packed it in a warehouse, another flew export flights to destination, and I’m sure tens and perhaps even hundreds of more such moves involving other people in order to make your coffee experience possible. Taken in this light, it is easy to see how truly interdependent we are as a human family.

            By recognizing that we need each other to do just about anything, I think we remain grounded. We become aware of the needs of others in a way that perhaps we weren’t in tune with before. This realization, coupled with a precept such as the golden rule, begs us to consider each other’s “threads.” How can we help others achieve their dreams? It is safe to assume that we are all trying to better ourselves in some way or another, so why not help each other along the way? Surely we are better served acting in unison rather than individually. The more I think about the fundamental changes I’ve experienced in the last few years, the more I have to admit they are all part of a holistic process with no discernible seam. While I may have been the initiator in regard to instituting change, the metamorphosis would have been impossible without the help of countless others. Whether it’s my wife, my family, my friends, my coworkers, my students, they have all contributed in their own ways—whether consciously or not—to my transformation. It is only now, after a couple of years, that I am even beginning to realize this. The sooner we realize this in our own lives, the sooner we see the threads all around us.

           Take some time to really ponder what it is that moves you at your core, NIP. While it probably isn’t one emotion or idea specifically, deep down inside each of us there is an intuition. Something that is beyond definition or expression. It just is. And that is what drives you, what drives us all. If we are true to ourselves, we listen to this intuition and let it guide us. It will take us where we need to go. Trust in it and follow your thread. Perhaps even more importantly, know that your thread is constantly intersecting with the threads of others. We are all in this life together. The more we acknowledge this fact, the easier it is to see the beautiful tapestry we are all weaving as one.

Keep following your thread, NIP.

- Ryan

The Sanctity of Silence

How have you been, NIP?

            I apologize for having spent the last month in silence, so to speak. Something struck a profound chord in me at the end of February during one of the YTT weekends. It was a quote by Swami Kripalu, one of the well-known teachers who introduced yoga to the West. It reads, “Before you speak, consider whether your words will be an improvement upon silence.” Anyone who knows me personally could see why that would stop me in my tracks. I have the propensity from time to time to be an incessant windbag, believe me. So the last six weeks or so have been an exploration of this idea; I wanted to be more mindful of when I talk, what I say, and how I say it. It’s not easy as it requires something I have yet to cultivate—being mindful of my own thoughts all the time. But I’m working on it. Here’s what I’ve learned so far…

            To many of us, silence has the potential to be terrifying. We don’t like it and our response (whether cultured or instinctual, I cannot say) to it is to banish it with noise of our own making. Whether we talk or turn on a television or any other noise producing stimulus doesn’t matter—we’re trying to mask the silence. This is a particularly interesting phenomenon to observe in my students. Every day there is a brief “bell work” assignment on the board, a review question for them to complete in their notebooks. Perhaps 10% of them sit quietly and do this; the others do too, but while chatting with their neighbors. About a week or so after the weekend I heard the quote, I wrote it up on my whiteboard for the “Quote-of-the-Week” and then proceeded to watch their reactions; not much changed. That Friday, however, I pointed the quote out to them and our “Cultural Friday Activity”—a moment when we step outside the purview of geography and broaden our understanding with a poem, song, article, whatever—was to sit in sustained silence for five minutes. Most of them felt awkward at first, but as they settled into their breathing and got comfortable in their seats a hush settled over us like a blanket of snow. I get goosebumps recalling it now, as I think that was one of the best shared moments I’ve had with all of my students this year. Before we observed the silence, I asked them to relax, stop thinking (as much as they could), and really focus on the silence. I wanted them to just stop all the craziness in their minds and take stock of what was in the here and now of that moment. What’s always right here in every moment should we choose to see and hear it—potential.

            When I told them the time was up, many of them were hesitant to talk. By the time five minutes had passed, they had transitioned from feeling awkward to a sense of ease. I think what is so unnerving about silence initially is that it isn’t silence at all. Most of the time there are plenty of other auditory stimuli filling the void. But the act of listening intently, almost as if trying to penetrate the real silence that is beneath those noises brings us a grounding experience. Focusing solely on the silence allows us to get out of our heads by quieting our minds. And considering our minds are precisely the source of our pains—and joys—it is best to give them a break once a while by engrossing them in stillness. The stillness that follows the silence (or is perhaps part of it) allows us in many ways to simply be. To appreciate life for what it is. To revel in the breeze that brings the scent of blooming milkweed and the sounds of songbirds. That entire day with my students, in fact, I kept my vigil trained on the tree outside, twisting in the wind. The sunshine tickled the twigs and danced on the verdant, budding leaves while I kept listening for the wind. I couldn’t detect the slightest whisper in the silence, but in that space and time I felt as if everything in life was pure. It was then that I intuitively knew that only our thoughts have the power to sully this purity.

This is perhaps why my students didn’t want to talk. They felt it too. To destroy the silence we had created would be to make the world profane again. Each of them perhaps had found the solace they sought. There is something sagacious about silence. It teaches us every time we tune into it. It begins with our submission to our surroundings, listening intently to discover the “satya” or personal truth that lay beneath the rubble of our everyday mental chatter. The very act of listening in some way seems to consecrate the world, to imbue it with a precarious inviolability as paradoxical as that may sound. What is made manifest in so doing is miraculous. It’s an ineffable, ephemeral connection with being. Though it may be tenuous, there’s something sustaining and substantial about it. When my students and I finally broke the bond with silence we felt changed. A little more at ease with ourselves, with each other. There was a calm that stayed with us for a few minutes after and when chatter resumed it was lower in volume and lighter in tone. For lack of a better explanation, the silence seemed to be healing. It was a salve to the day’s stresses and wounds, most of which had been mentally afflicted by others or ourselves. Getting in touch with the ground of being, the essence of life and its very pulse and breath, we were able to let go a lot of our anxiety and inhibition. By doing so we allowed ourselves to grow just a little bit, to learn from the wisdom within the sacredness of silence.

If you get the chance, NIP, make some time for exploring the silence in your life. Even if it is only for five minutes each day, try to really listen to what’s going on in your world. Our culture offers an endless sea of anesthetizing distractions that tug our focus in every which way but within. The answers you seek and the healing we all need begins by communing each day with silence. Today my meditation consisted of sitting just outside the backdoor of my porch in the shade, closing my eyes, and listening to the world around me. It was comforting to be still, take a moment, and enjoy the fact that I am alive. That I am breathing. That I have a wonderful wife. An excellent family. Meaningful relationships with friends. A great group of students. And a whole other lot of blessings that came and went in my mind as I tried my best to discern the satya of the sacred silence beneath the sounds of the outside world. Silence, like darkness, is sometimes feared unnecessarily. It is only the complement to sound, the other half of the dynamic—and unfortunately the one we tune into way too much. Take some time to get to know silence, NIP; I’m sure you’ll come to find it quite comforting.

Shhhh. The cicadas are calling…

Keep listening, NIP.

- Ryan   

The Five Qualities

Hello again, NIP,

            I would like to begin by apologizing for the brevity of the previous letter. With the wedding that afternoon and my inability to find the specific type of Poppycock that Erin wanted for Valentine’s Day, I was trying to write with little time. Additionally, I wanted to also discuss something further that I mentioned in the letter: the five qualities. The reason I wanted to come back and revisit this topic so soon is due to the book I recently started reading by Karen Armstrong, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life. Though I’ve only read the first half of the book, so much of what she has talked about in those pages explains a fundamental part of the metamorphosis that I’ve been going through. And it all begins with my daily meditation.

            If you’ve been reading my letters for a while, NIP, then you know how crucial meditation has been to my personal transformation. While there are many other activities that one can pursue in order to cultivate a similar level of mental focus and control over one’s thoughts, meditation has been proven to be one of (if not “the”) most effective. I’ve been meditating for over a year now. I began slowly and over the course of a few months eventually built up my practice to 30 minutes every morning. There are lots of ways to meditate, but mine is a rather simple technique. All I do is focus on my breathing. Usually I begin with deep breaths while trying to keep my mind vacant. It sounds easier than it is, because our minds tend to be like wild beasts when we first shut our eyes. Thoughts about what you have to do that day, thoughts from the night before, thoughts about what you’re hearing in the outside world while trying to be still and silent, even random crazy memories will pop up—but you must wipe them all away. Focusing on your breath, though, makes the thoughts go away. By focusing on the sound of your breathing, the thoughts (in time) will plague you less and less. Like any other skill, the more you practice the easier it becomes. After a few minutes of focusing on the breath, you will become more relaxed physically (this works especially well if you do some light yoga before trying meditation, as the stretches help your body relax) and begin to notice the sensation in your body. Breathing will eventually get shallow, which will allow you to relax even more. For the last ten minutes or so of my meditation, however, I do start to activate my mind by honing in on what I have dubbed “the five qualities”: love, compassion, gratitude, generosity, and patience. I return to breathing deeply, yet with each breath I imagine drawing in these attributes one at a time. Breathe in love, breathe out love. Breathe in compassion, breathe out compassion. You get the idea.

            Why these qualities, though? I’ve asked myself the same thing, NIP, and I don’t have a good answer. When I had just started my meditation practice—probably at the point when I would try to meditate for 10 straight minutes—I thought it would be a good idea to concentrate on the things I wanted to change most about myself (or at least my outward demeanor). The first one that popped into my head was patience. Anyone who has known me long enough can tell you that there is a world of difference in my levels of patience now compared to even 3 years ago. It was simple enough; all I did was focus on the word and imagined that with each breath I was becoming a more patient person. Over time I added the other four. Sometimes I’d imagine what these attributes looked like when put into action, or I would pick a single one and meditate on it for an entire week. And after consistent meditation, I really can see how these changes are occurring within me. While I don’t think these qualities are the only ones to center on, they are fairly universal. For you, NIP, there may be other qualities that you’d prefer to nurture because, functionally speaking, they may be more beneficial to breaking bad habits or some other goal. Regardless of the ones you choose, if you pay particular attention to nurture these attributes they will become stronger and more developed.

            The five qualities I have listed are fairly universal, so they may be a good place to start for you too. I feel these five in particular have a lot to offer, as the world needs people to be better to one another. Or at least counteract some of our “me-first” tendencies, as Armstrong calls them in her book. As I mentioned in the prior letter, love is the most important. One could even make the case that the other four qualities are in some ways manifestations of love. Love is central because it is what bonds us together as human beings. First in the family, then perhaps among our friends, maybe even some of our coworkers. But it shouldn’t stop there. I know it sounds crazy to say that we should love everyone, but why not? Do we not want to be loved by others? Of course we do. So it is safe to assume (in this one case, at least) that “the other” feels the same way.

Compassion is the next logical step, because in many ways compassion is love actualized. Armstrong goes to great lengths in her book to define compassion and distinguish it from pity, which is often how it is perceived. Compassion is not to feel bad for someone, but to fully understand the other person’s predicament, to empathize with what that person is going through. Sure we might not have been through the exact same experience, but we can often call to mind some similar ordeal that tested us. By being compassionate it helps put into perspective that the person in question is a real human being too. One who shares the human condition and who may have similar aspirations and faults, just like we all have. Ultimately, compassion is the step that brings us all to common ground.

Gratitude is another extension of love insofar as loving what life offers us. Whether we see something in our lives as good or bad is completely up to us. It took me a long time to truly realize this and make the according changes to the way I lived, but when I did I can’t tell you how much richer my life became. Not because I won the lottery (well, I did marrying Erin), but because having constant gratitude has enabled me to broaden my view of the miraculous. I pay much more attention to the details of life that we most often overlook as being insignificant and it has paid tremendous dividends to my mental well-being. If you’ve never read the post from my 35^th birthday (Gratitude for the Here and Now), there is a short mantra that you may read and try to incorporate into your routine (or create one of your own!). Without fail, I wake each morning, take care of the girls, bring Erin her coffee, and then silently recite my mantra when I get to my yoga mat. Try it even for a few days and see if you feel any differently. I bet you’ll find you are more grateful, especially for life’s little intangible gifts.

Generosity is the fourth on the list. In my original conception of the five qualities, this space was for kindness. Not to say that kindness isn’t important, but I felt it was a redundancy considering love and compassion were already two of the five qualities I was trying to cultivate. Generosity is something that we can all practice easily. Generosity is not about money. While you can be generous with your money, not all people have funds with which to be generous. And that’s totally fine. Anyone can be generous in a number of ways, but perhaps the most important is being generous with our time. As you know, NIP, I think time is easily our most precious commodity. We have only a limited amount and of that limited amount we really don’t know how much there is to begin with. Being generous with our time could mean volunteer work at a favorite charity or just sitting with a friend or family member who needs us. Whether we are working or listening, devoting that time to the person in need is a form of generosity. Much like the rest of these qualities, generosity opens us up to our fellow human beings in ways that allow us to become the best of who we are.

And then there’s patience. As I mentioned earlier, I am much, much more patient than I once was. It’s funny when my senior students whom I taught as freshmen talk about this. They get wide-eyed and tell the underclassmen sitting nearby that I am very different from 3 years ago. I think they can tell that I released my anger. I’m older (definitely) and wiser (hopefully) now, and much of that change has been a willingness to relinquish control over certain areas of my life; namely, the ones I thought I could control but in actuality had no control over. By putting patience into practice I have learned to take so much in stride. It’s definitely had the biggest impact in my professional life, as I don’t get so easily riled by student apathy. While I’m not going to deny that student apathy doesn’t bother me, I also have accrued the wisdom to know that it is part of youth. We were that age at one time and I’m sure that we were all apathetic about certain parts of life, particularly education. By being patient with my students, and by extension other people, I have learned to slow myself down, take stock of the miraculous life around me, and thereby appreciate each moment a little more. Patience also often prevents us from blowing things out of proportion, because our knee-jerk reactions to certain situations can sometimes put us in a bind. We may say mean or hurtful things in the heat of the moment, only to apologize later for our behavior. By developing our patience, it allows us to take a deep breath, formulate our thoughts, and avoid making a situation worse than it needs to be.

The final part of the puzzle is putting these attributes into practice. You can’t simply focus on them in your interior life, NIP, they must be exercised in the exterior life as well. This is easier said than done, to be honest. We are all fallible. We all make mistakes. Though I can unequivocally say I have changed since beginning my meditation practice and focusing on the improvement of these five qualities in my own life, I am still a work in progress. This past weekend, in fact, taught me a valuable lesson in equanimity. While I think these attributes have changed me for the better, I have yet to learn to utilize them equally in all situations. As I’m sure you have experienced in your own life, NIP, we often save our worst for those we love the most. Perhaps this comes from the fact that there is no persona for family. We let it all hang out and we show our true colors quite freely. Sometimes this can be bad. I was definitely not exercising patience when my brother was finally ready to leave for Clearwater beach at 1 in the afternoon. I won’t bore you with the details, but my choice to be impatient with him was no one’s fault other than my own. I thought about it the rest of the weekend and have since been focusing on equanimity in my meditations. If these five qualities are going to make me a better person, they must do so at all times and under all conditions. It may take time, but I’m willing to put in the work. Every day that I keep chipping at my life’s labor, I see progress. In that progress I find reassurance. And each new day I pick up the metaphorical hammer and chisel and begin again.

Keep chipping away, NIP.

- Ryan

Love Is in the Air

Dear NIP,

            Today our friends Jason and Andrea are getting married. Spring is coming. Though the walk with the girls was brisk this morning, it was filled with sunshine spilling over rooftops and birdsong wafting on the chilly breeze. Erin actually just walked in and gave me a little buss. Much like many of you, love is probably on your mind in some capacity or another. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I still don’t have Erin’s gift yet. I know what it is but I can’t find it anywhere. While love is in the air perhaps it’s the perfect time to focus on it and really ponder its value in our lives. At this stage in my life I don’t think there is anything more crucial than love. It’s the hub of a virtuous life the way I see it. From there other qualities such as compassion, gratitude, generosity, and patience extend themselves to reach out to others. They are simply manifestations of love. Since I began my journey down the yogic path, and especially during my daily meditations, I have tried to focus on cultivating these five aspects into who I am becoming.  The more I do so, the more it seems my relationships with others grow stronger.

            I know for some of you, this time of year can also be painful. Perhaps it is the loss of a significant person who had been in our lives, or the longing to find that someone who will love and accept who we are. When I was younger I had a hard time with this. Reflecting on it now, I can see how I didn’t love who I was. I’m sure it began with a negative self-image because of my physical condition. Media and culture can be powerfully subtle influences on our psyches, which only reinforced a pejorative view of myself. I can’t be sure what it was that initially changed how I felt about myself, but I did. The changes were slow in coming, but in hindsight they have all been worth it. Erin was definitely the final shift. She is the one who truly made me feel that I deserve to be loved for who I am. With all my bizarre quirks and idiosyncrasies, she sees the good in me. And for the first time in my life, she made me see that they had been there all along. But the recognition had to come from within. Before I could truly love others I had to love myself. I think we all have to let ourselves heal from time to time. Perhaps the changes I’ve undergone have been a process of healing. It did help to have someone really make me realize this, NIP, but we are all capable of loving ourselves if allow ourselves to do so. I think this goes back to focus as well. If we choose to see the negative, we will always stare down our flaws; harnessing our positive attributes allows us to refine our potential in many areas of our lives. If we channel that constructive energy into what we are most passionate about, our lives are enriched in manifold ways.

            While you have a moment to contemplate the love in your life, try to also make a commitment to think about it every day. As I mentioned in my last letter, Grandma reminded me that we always must come from a place of love. No matter what, when, where, how, if the intention stems from love then the result will ultimately be good. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth the effort. Love is ultimately about sacrifice. Your willingness to give to the beloved that which will make the other’s life more fulfilling. It’s a reciprocal process, which is another wonderful benefit of love. The more you try to give it to others, the more you feel it returned. I am blessed to have so much love in my life. From my family, to my friends, to my students—and Erin most of all—I am surrounded by the best thing that life has to offer…love.

Think about the love in your life, NIP, particularly the people you share it with on a daily basis. How can we show more love to our families? Life is incredibly hectic, so make sure you save time to spend with them. Make the most of those moments by sharing love and then think on them fondly when you can’t be together. Love isn’t just some fleeting feeling that gets its own commercial holiday once a year, it is the foundation of a fulfilling life. By trying to bring love into everything we do, we give even menial actions substance. Everyday life becomes less and less “every day.” Every moment that I have the good fortune to spend with Erin could be its own little time capsule postcard picture. Even now she is by my side doing work for her kindergarten class and I feel fortunate to be here in this space in time. We may be doing different things, but I know some part of her is thinking about me, just as I am thinking about her. By putting love into all of our efforts, we start to feel this kinship with others more easily. The hardest step, though, is learning to love ourselves. It’s also the easiest, too, because once we cross that threshold it’s hard to stop. You just want to give it to others so they can ride the wave and inspire others in turn. What begins as “philos” transforms into “agape.” Loving eventually becomes a snowballing process. Let it expand us all in our relationships with each other.

Pass the love, NIP.

- Ryan