There are some, who in refusing to accept a calm response invite you to partake in fits of excitement and hysteria — yield not. For no good solution is ever discovered through rage and fractious emotion. To do so is to snap like the rigid oak resisting the tempest. In the end, years of growth and grace are laid to waste, and though you may have prevailed your point, it was for naught. The rift becomes greater, words are unheeded and you are left shamefully gathering the splintered pieces of inner thoughts.
Only through calm surrender does the timber survive the storm, harmoniously swaying like the solitaire palm, to the gushing sound of the wind, yet remaining firmly rooted to its source. Calmness is clarity, it is absent of competing concepts – and stillness is sovereignty. Mastery of inner thought reduces outer noise to fleeting echo. As stated in a less known proverb, “No matter how loud the wind howls, the mountain can not bowl to it.” The energy reserved from petty squabbles and wasted thought is harnessed and redirected, creating an indomitable impetus of fulfillment in all directions. Fortifying mental strands is the beginning of personal liberty and the path to true reign. The inability to self govern disqualifies one from leadership. The life of self restraint reduces regret and, or fear of embarrassment. What we often like to attribute to impulse, originates in thought and acquires momentum through repetition, until impulse becomes the final automated expression.
Calmness is a tree rooted in darkness. Shading the weary mind from worry. It gathers splintered energy to a single streaming force. It demands balance in all things. Nature does not contend with itself. The misuse of energy in a particular direction withdraws it from its opposite. It is impossible to be simultaneously calm and hysterical, strong and weak, or an honest and dishonest person. Emerson referred to this principle as the law of compensation.
Calmness is a natural human state, It is the state of nature. Nature always proceeds from and returns to serenity. Even the raging tempest and earthquake gather their strength within the dark stillness and what may be perceived as rage is the correction of balance. Like the storm, the temperance of man is the abiding energy behind every good and undeniable force. The incorruptible law of the universe is good and or beneficial. The familiar and often, overused adages of good conquering evil are etched in time. It is an abiding principle of the abyss; that can neither be penetrated nor exterminated. The reality of life is that of virtue, to see it, we have only to quiet the beckoning noise and dissolve our daily fiction. The world without is the world within, “ as above so below, as within so without.” The conquest of internal conflict renders one unshakable to external chaos. The battle of life has always been so — all else is distraction; once resolved, so too is distraction.
What would you give to feel the beauty relived in nature for the very first time? To see the sheen, glean from the leaves of a cluster of trees on a bright Sunday morning shine. Or dancing particles beamed through a stream of light from the bedroom window. To still be charmed by a touch of breeze easing across the hairs of your arm. To inhale the soft, sweet moisture in the air before a storm, or pick a grape from the vine; or a juicy peach from a tree you’ve climbed. To chase behind a fire fly on a cheerful evening in the mid of July — or ponder the wonder of the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning in the midnight sky. To slip and slide along a hillside covered in snow. What would you give to enjoy the rain, enough to remain under the purging shower from on high? To have adventure in your eyes, from the moment you rise, in the morning from savory sleep, or to rip and run, under the sun with friends along the way – and imagine the shape of dragons in the trees as you play.
The yoke of Yoga is spontaneous intuition. is not to bind or strain, contort, distort how teachers train. it is to breath, gently drift with placid ease.
not to rush or brush against moment and mat but remain compose, just where you’re at.
the yoke of yoga is to rejoin the dance of nature’s flow, remembering, forgetting all that we know.
to stroll among trees, the breeze, the chime, the secret places hard to find.
the yoke of yoga is out of time, for time is ego – to center the body in presence of mind.
not the web of rules of don’ts and dues, a force of will to win or lose.
is the essence of craft not angles of math, degree of fold or length of hold.
every pose yokes the muscle that needs the most
the yoke of yoga is slightest of all, a chord of darkness beyond the wall.
the yoke of yoga is not a claim or name, drawn to fame. tis’ the private prayer, is everything and nothing, still – it is there.
not a room or hideaway, is required duties of the day. is daily grind through rivers rage most divine. is spacious in thought and gracious untaught.
the yoke of yoga is yet defined, the yoga yoke alludes the mind. the yoke of yoga is the path to wealth with many roads that lead to self. is the rhythm of life found in death the prana in and out of breath.
sometimes i feel happy when i see you cut avocados, listen to Heavy D and Vaux Diop. i heard you talking to one of your friends the other day; you were teaching them breath. you gave purple nettle and mullein to her pops.
i saw you staring out the window – you were looking at the trees. what did they tell you? she knew how to speak to trees also. i saw her too.
remember when you ask me to protest? you put black tape on your face and held up your fist. sometimes when i think back, i feel happy again, like i said something good.
i watched you with him, he had on your shoes like you had on mine, you were teaching him food — and i smiled.