Yoga did not explain karma.
My mother did. My grandmother did.
(Things have consequences. Beware of your actions.)
Yoga did not explain dharma.
That was my father and my grandfather.
(You have a path. Figure it out.)
Yoga did not divulge a connection to the source.
(…..and his name One.)
Yoga did not expose my wild nature.
Solitude in the woods did.
Clouds taught me to see.
Wind trained me to listen.
Hilary Lindsay-wind poem
Love kept me tender.Dance called me to move.
I knew sound and song’s power when rock and roll raised the vibration.
Hilary Lindsay-one precious life
Yoga did not initiate me but yoga invited context.
When I forget my wild nature,
When I forget karma,
Lose sight of my dharma,
Yoga reminds me.
(Thank you to Pat Halper and Arunima for their support at Art and Soul)
My friend is raising bees. While the rest of us spend hours blathering into the blogosphere or trying to make a buck, she has honed the skill of human caring for planet earth to a graceful art.
She always urges me to be wholly myself although my self is a square peg in a round hole who is getting tired of being whipped in the wind and wanting shelter. That round hole is not the whole that I might be but the whole of the greater planet and its magnetic field seems to shoot me away while its gravity holds me close but at a distance. I am no victim but a party to the paralysis.
I am not sure what happens with her bees but she says they dance. “How do they dance?” I ask her. She says that one vibrates on the dance floor to direct the newbies by vibration.
Me, the unlikely yogi, the no longer dancer; I see everything in yoga terms, everything as a dance and all yoga riddles as a road map though it be worn and unreadable where frankly, I can’t read maps anyway.
I am thinking of a smug bit of writing by a yoga teacher/blogger who described the virtuous and not so correct yoga teacher template in a recent post. He sniped at yoga teachers who move with the class. As a student he wants to be the center of attention, he wants to be touched and he doesn’t want distance from the teacher or the teacher to be focused elsewhere. He also doesn’t want the teacher talking too much, using too many words.
And I thought of all the ways I have tried to teach anyone anything and realize that by example and that example being a vibration strong enough to touch others till they too are vibrating from that example, from an abundance of words, has been my greatest gift and one I have not used much in many years.
My bee keeper friend knows what I mean. She has reverberated my vibration and I hers. We have shared much by being dancing bees.
There was a time when those of us who find road maps confusing could ask any stranger working at a gas station, once known as ‘service’ stations, for directions. She still mans the lone station that dots the back road journey of my less traveled yoga life. If I have forgotten how I inspired others, not by showing off, not by ignoring students, not by ignorance but by being wholly myself when I was a dancing bee, she has reminded me and I thank her for that.