Homeward Bound with Kim Allcock at Yoga Loka: Reno, Nevada: February 3, 2019
Waking up in Reno to a fresh snowfall.
There's something wicked pleasant about connecting the tip of your index finger with the tip of your thumb in jnana mudra. Subtle anatomists would say it is the link of the earth and fire elements, and some say it connects universal to individual consciousness. In any case I call it relief and I don't mean just in my wrists.
Twirling my hands while holding the mudra feels nervy. It pierces a veil that goes through layers of flesh, bone, blood. Down deep below anything physical, really. It reminds me of sutra 1.48, ritambhara tatra prajna, the experiential knowledge of essential wisdom filled with truth, or as my teacher Ravi Ravindra says, "there, insight is full of order". Yes, it felt like all that just sitting there on my mat, between chaturangas and warrior ones, between Maui and our upcoming tour. My restless nature is so wild that even when I’m home, I’m not here. I even have two of them, well three if you count our tour bus. To no avail Realtor.com fills the void when I’m antsey, peeking at houses in Maui, Reno, Dallas, Ojai, and the USVI. If I’m really itchy I’ll check out Santa Fe, Paris, Ventura, or Malibu, I haven’t quite figured out what its all about but I can tell you my incessant search for houses doesn’t feel very yogic.
Like my wrists that spin around, so does my mind. Only seldom, I’d even admit extremely rarely, can I see the any kind of Order or Truth. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a believer. But its not my mind, its my body that lets me know. When it arrives there is no greater peace. Except maybe falling deeply in love. In that way paying attention is a direct line to love. It feels shiny, like this morning when I opened the curtains and saw fresh show drift down right in front of my eyes. For someone who has determined she's a beach girl, this level of delight caught me by such surprise that I got zapped with a sliver of insight into my house hunting addiction. its possible I don’t need a beach to be happy.
Its not that its unhealthy to have preferences, but clinging causes me undue suffering every time. I'm in a world of what the yogis mind mapped as Raga, a block formally known as a klesha. It’s a state of attachment to my likes. And while I do love the beach, its not a requirement for me to be happy. I just proved that to myself this morning and I watched big beautiful snowflakes dance, mesmerized and delighted to be where I am.
Within a few hours after landing the red eye flight from Maui I went to Yoga Loka. I was looking for a practice, but more importantly I was looking to connect with the yogis there. Its the sunniest one of what in Buddhism is referred to as the Three Jewels, the sangha, the community. I'm reminded as I travel the country, the yogis are my home.
The art of being in love starts with the art of paying attention. My sangha in Maui and my sangha in Reno are strong enough to stop me from spinning, almost instantaneously, to realize Love is way bigger than any ocean and more majestic than any snow capped mountain, and hunting for houses in search of a place to land is never going to cease until I settle in to the Truth that I’m already home and always will be.
Health, Love, and Rock N Roll