Love Matters

Yogi Ramsuratkumar Ashram

With the state of the world and the news cycle what it is, I am pretty sure that anything I post about my classes, yoga poses, my dog, and/or the occasional clothes, essential oils, or skin care promotions is going to seem (and be) tone deaf. So, well, that. Guilty as charged. 

I am a yoga practitioner and asana teacher, not a political scientist, activist, sociologist, or psychiatrist. So, also that. 

I am a writer, a teacher, and a student of human nature through the lenses I have cultivated through my years of dharmic study and practice.  So, also that.

I think there is work to do at the level of donating to organizations who are helping people in Ukraine. Truth be told, I am not an expert on this either so it seems to me that Together Rising has mechanisms to make a difference with the power of a large reach. Send money. Even $5 helps. Those of you who are experts about good organizations for donations, please contribute in the comments. 

On the inner level, I believe in the power of prayer. Light candles, get on your knees, and pray. When you finish your prayers, start again.

Seriously.

Thessalonians 5:16-18 instructs us to  “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”  Admittedly, the rejoice part may be hard these days and gratitude can be elusive, and I know the Jesus thing might be  as tone deaf for some people as a post about handstands feels today, but still, pray without ceasing. Find a way.  The Gospel of Christina adds, “as best as you can” somewhere in there so there isn’t a heavy perfectionistic trip on top of it all. 

So that. 

And chant the name of God. Any name. 

Years ago, when I was visiting Yoga Ramsuratkumar ashram, I spent some time walking the ashram property with Ma Devaki, his primary attendant and long-time devotee. She told me Yoga Ramsuratkumar once asked her, “Devaki Ma, do you know why we chant the name of God?”

She answered, “Why, Bhagwan?”

He replied, “Well, if I call your name, don’t you turn around to see who is calling?”

So, when the uprising of existential dread, fear, concern, heartbreak, and uneasy uncertainty arrives on the doorstep of my well-being, I chant. Unabashedly. Loudly. Awkwardly. Shamelessly. And, when shame arrives, as it so often does to spoil a mood, I chant in the presence of shame. 

Jesus Christ, Krishna, Shiva, Allah, the Great Everything, the All-that-Is.  Whatever name you can muster with any shred of sincerity, trust, and dare I say, faith— chant it. Sing it. Shout it. Whisper it. Cry it. Dance it. Flow it in your vinyasa. Put it in your legs in standing poses.  Just remember it and bring God’s Name into manifestation somehow. Some way. 

If the only thing for which your heart expands is your dog, then chant your dog’s name with love in your heart and with a sincere wish that the love you feel for this being comes alive in some way in the midst of the suffering you feel, in the pain that you know others are feeling, and in  the small and large relationships that govern our lives individually and collectively. 

Seriously. I know the dog thing with me is now a bit of a trope, but I am not kidding about this. Do whatever you can do to get to Love. Even for a moment. Love matters.  Any action grounded in Love as the ever-present reality is going to be helpful. 

So, chant. No fancy pants required. No selfies needed. 

Keep the faith. More soon.

Yogi Ramsuratkumar with Dog