What is love?

Big question, I know. Ok, let’s think about it differently. If I were to ask you for examples of things you love, what would you say? Mum; dad; boyfriend; girlfriend; men; women; alcohol; sex; coffee; clothes; cats; dogs; running; yoga; sleep; etc. The list of what people can love is endless, infinite. That we can experience love so differently, in such a varied way, means love is a spectrum – in the same way white light divides into a rainbow, so love divides into whatever you have an affinity towards. They’re all just different forms of the same thing - no good, no bad, (though they may be perceived as such by society,) just different. And is that not what love is – a feeling of strong connection towards something‽ What I feel these connections to are instruments; tools through which to express the love that already exists within me. In the same way that language, music, and art allow an individual to express themselves, so too can cooking, cycling, and yoga. They are something through which one finds a connection to oneself, to the universe, and is able express that love, that connection. This is why it can be so beautiful to listen to a musician play/a master of language orate/watch a movement specialist move/a world class athlete perform - you’re observing a pure expression of love, a complete connection of that person to themselves, through that thing, in that moment. And yes, whilst I can learn the steps to play the piano, and mimic the actions to imitate beauty, if the instrument doesn’t resonate with me at a fundamental level then it will never sound genuine - because that love wasn’t there to express in the first place. To find one’s true vibration(s)/expression of love, I have to “love myself”. But what does this mean? Well I have an understanding of what love is – a strong connection towards something. So to love myself is to feel connected to myself. But who is “me”‽ Through introspection I can begin to understand myself. And this is what I practice in yoga - a withdrawal from the external to look within and understand myself. But in my opinion this is only half the story; because I exist only in relation to/as a reflection of you: I only know that I am male because you are female; I know that my hair is brown because yours is blond; I know I am short because you are tall; I know I like bananas because I don’t like apples. So to be connected to you is to be more connected to myself. To understand and appreciate that being connected to/loving you, and everything in the universe - to be zen - IS to love myself. Whilst I can find contentment and peace within just myself, that version of me is incomplete. It’s only through challenge that I grow, and being in the physical world is challenging because it’s not within my control. So every challenge I face is an opportunity to better understand myself and be more clear on my true vibrations of love.

And this is why relationships (of any kind) are so important for self development, not just because they can be nurturing, but because they can also be challenging, both of which provide opportunity to grow. And besides, what's the point of being my best self if I’m not going to share that with anyone.

Pain

I watched something recently that said the thing that connects all of humanity is pain. I experience pain, as well as cause it. It’s because I can experience pain that I can appreciate love. Would a life without pain be a life worth living? That’s not to say that I should wish for pain, or look to inflict it, or be grateful for it, but perhaps when painful things happen I can take some solace in the fact that pain is just a part of life, and the fact that I can experience pain means I’ve appreciated love. And perhaps by focusing on that love I can ease through my pain.

Storms don't last forever, and neither do heatwaves - if nature can't keep up extremes of its behavior indefinitely, then how can I expect to. After all I am a part of nature, just as a blade of grass is. I am made of the same atoms as the rest of the planet, and so are merely this planet expressed as consciousness, assimilated into this body I occupy. I think that sometimes it's easy to lose sight of that, and to think humans are 'better' than everything else that exists in the world because of our intellect (i.e. we're atoms with the capacity to contemplate other atoms). But really, how intelligent are we as a species if we've managed to take this gift of life and turn it into a chore.

The space between the notes

Do you train a musical instrument?

That probably read a bit strange (and sounds even more so out loud), but the use of language there was deliberate. Usually we say that we play a musical instrument as opposed to train in one. And I think the distinction is important – we say play rather than train because it means we’re doing it for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.

I think the same distinction can be applied to the physical yoga practice: do you train yoga, or do you play yoga?

I’d say I do both. But that sense of play has to be there, otherwise I’d very quickly fall out of love with it if I wasn’t also enjoying it. I take my practice seriously (as well as classes I facilitate), but I still maintain a sense of play and enjoyment in the movements I’m making with my body, as opposed to seeing the physical practice as a chore – it’s something I’m doing with my body rather than against it. I used to lose sight of this and would end up pushing my body to places it didn’t want to be. Now I try to be more mindful and just move into a space where I can work but still enjoy an asana, rather than powering through it as if trying to achieve it.

Music isn’t just about the notes you play, but also ‘the space between the notes’, as French composer Claude Debussy said. If it were then music would just be all of the notes played consecutively as quickly as possible, or even all at once, both of which would sound a little weird (and probably also a bit rubbish). I think the same can be said about the physical yoga practice: it’s not just about the poses, but equally the time in between each pose – the transitions into and out of asana.

I see it a lot as a teacher – practitioners rushing to get from one pose to the next rather than considering the movement, as if trying to get to the end. If that were the point then one may as well just go straight to savasana; but we don’t! (tempting though it might be sometimes). In the same way music isn’t about getting to the end of the piece (if it were we’d just only ever want to hear the last note/chord), the asana practice isn’t just about reaching the savasana/seated meditation – it’s about enjoying the journey through all the notes leading you there. Do you rush to play each note, or do you enjoy the time within each pose as well as savour and appreciate the space between them?

And what is the space between each pose? For me it’s the breath – it’s what guides each movement. Not only is focus on breath a fantastic meditative tool, it also tells me if I’m rushing my transitions, or if I’ve taken a pose to a space I’m not ready for. If I can keep a steady breath, married with mindful movement, then I can enjoy the sweet music my body plays, whatever that may sound like (we all vibrate at our own unique frequency), then can sit back and listen to the reverberations in savasana/meditation.