Rest, An Oasis

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The necessity of resting and the results of not resting seem to be so overwhelmingly evident that it would almost seem a foregone conclusion that all of us would undertake to secure this necessary comfort for ourselves.  However, this is not actually the situation and hence the case for resting is stated, re-stated, and repeatedly and tirelessly emphasised in different and diverse contexts.

There is this (awe-inspiring for me) story in the Mahabharata (among many such) from the time of the great war.  Arjuna and his divine charioteer, Krishna enter the tight and skillfully arranged vyuham (a classical formation, strategic positioning and arrangement of the military) of their opponents - this is after the murder of Abhimanyu and Arjuna has vowed to avenge his son's death by killing his killers; they have to reach the centre of the vyuham before sunset that day.  So, after a long, hard day of intense fighting, and still some way to go before reaching their goal, and dusk fast approaching, Krishna actually says that his horses cannot go any further without their water and rest! Then, cool-as-you-please, the duo proceed to do the needful - Krishna stops the chariot, un-tethers his horses; Arjuna invokes an astra and materialises a pond full of water for the horses while continuing to fight, now on foot.  When the horses are rested, lovingly taken care of by their master (I am utterly charmed by descriptions of how much Krishna loved his horses and how he took care of them), he tethers them back to the chariot, Arjuna gets nimbly onto the chariot, still fighting.  And they continue towards the nucleus.  All in a day's work!

I was of course completely taken by the animal-care angle of the story, as well as the unflappable quotient of the scene and its protagonists.  It beats Vijay's cool-as-cucumber Gilli hands down! However, one of my yoga teachers offered yet another meaning to the metaphor - that of the vaahanam (a vehicle, that which carries). That we need to give utmost care and attention to the vaahanam. And that this body is the vaahanam of my spirit, my being.  Hence, we need to pay attention to the body and take care of it.  The body is the instrument of action.

Right in the middle of that bloody war and destruction, an oasis was created for the horses to drink water and take rest. And this is exactly what our bodies (and hence eventually minds - we are a psychosomatic unity no matter how much we try to divide and isolate parts of ourselves) need: the oases of rests, now and then, here and there.

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One kind of rest is of course sleep, and it is well known that as human beings, we do need sleep to function. The contribution of sleep to restoring, repairing, healing, building the immune system, enhancing our creative processes and maintaining the nervous system etc cannot be overstated.  All one has to do is go without sleep for a couple of days to experience what lack of sleep can do to one, just like Shwetaketu went without food for many days to understand what happens.  However I am not sure about an optimum because this would vary from person to person according to their lifestyle, occupation, individual particularities and so on.  Even for one individual, the number of hours needed sleeping may change depending on season, his / her health conditions, foods consumed, recent daily activities and so on.  Each individual may need to experiment and observe to arrive at how many hours of sleep he / she needs on an average.

We also need other kinds of rest oases besides sleeping.  The oasis could be for a few minutes or hours or extend to rest days.  It depends on how much one needs to slow down, recuperate and recharge.  Or completely stop for the time being - if one has overused or abused the body so much.  But rest, we must.

- Taking that one, long breath and checking that you have taken everything that you need before you step out that door could be rest

- Having that cup of tea or coffee sitting, one sip at a time, could give you the rest you need rather than gulping it down as you try to finish other tasks

- A relaxing yoga practice at the end of a working day

- Putting aside everything else and giving your child your complete attention while answering his / her question

- a 15-minutes power nap

- Playing with the dogs when they are frisky and asking for your time

- Stopping in the middle of frenzied activity to sit down and do some praanayaama; you may find the frenzy melting away

-  Just closing your eyes and massaging them by placing gentle palms on them

- Sitting and folding clothes neatly and carefully, without creases, with ends meeting, no tails hanging out

- Washing the dishes while washing the dishes to wash the dishes (Read Thich Nhat Hanh's Miracle of Mindfulness)

- Listening to your favourite piece of music

- Practicing S-L-O-W motion in activity

- Giving your vocal chords a chance to be without work for some time - indulging in some quiet time

- Staring out into the infinite blue of the ocean and breathing with the waves (if you live on the coast of course)

- Taking a long walk without needing to get some place

- Bathing in moonlight and watching the moon climb up the sky

- Learning, practicing and creating Kolams in front of my house, especially pulli kolams

The above are some of my favourite oases of rest.  You would of course have / discover your own besides.  Happy resting! 

One Breath at a Time

A popular cafe chain advertises saying, a lot can happen over a cup of coffee.  Much, much

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 more can happen in the space of one breath.  Think why: when one is angry or agitated or stressing big time about something, one of the first instructions given is: "Take a deep breath." And a yoga teacher may follow it up by saying, "now, release it s-l-o-w-l-y, feel it leaving your body and empty yourself completely, now pause." 

What happens when you take a deep breath? 

Normally, we are not even aware of breathing.  We go through the days and activities, mostly breathing unconsciously.  It is only in not-normal or not-collected situations that one becomes aware of one's breath - dashing madly to catch the train, surprise or shock, occasionally even while excited about something.  These are the times when there is an adrenaline rush in the body and the breath starts coming faster. Imagine, the heart has to start beating fast and our lungs have to work overtime in order for us to take note; we are in such a race, chasing after all the good things that life has to offer.  The breaths hasten and trip over each other and lessen life span and quality. It is a known and understood fact that creatures with slower breath rates live longer. The elephant, for example. Dogs on the other hand huff and puff and pant and have a much shorter life span.  The respiration rate is also connected to heart rate and health.  Shorter, quicker breaths usually means that the respiratory process would not be supplying oxygen in a steady and consistent manner to the heart.  As a result, the heart muscle would be pumping extra in order to distribute the not-steady and not-consistent supply of oxygen and get enough of it to the other muscles in the body.  This definitely has a negative impact over oxygen intake and health of the heart, thus robbing the body of strength and vitality.  It is obvious that this would be followed by reduction in quality of functioning in more ways than merely in physical health.  It may just not be directly evident that the decreased quality of life is because of the way one is breathing. 

However, the opposite is evident - that better breathing, meaning slower and deeper breathing, definitely and tangibly increases well-being and quality of life.  Anybody who has been on a correct aasana-praanayama routine (by correct I mean, movement with the right breathing) for a few months even intermittently, will agree with the previous statement even if it is with some hesitation or doubt. Given a couple of years of consistent practice, he / she will emphasise the connection of breath to quality of life.  

Indian tradition calculates a being's life span by the number of breaths and this can be done by taking into account the respiratory rate. Our ancients say that the person is given her number of breaths even when she is born.  This means that one's life span can actually be stretched - by increasing the length of breath.  And this is also perhaps why popular idiom in Indian culture has statements like, "you gave me such a scare and have taken away 10 years of my life."  A scare would mean adrenaline and breath coming in gasps.  

So, how does one actually do this, increase one's life span and quality of life?
One breath at a time. 

Imagine you have to take just this one breath now, this breath will save your life. As you inhale slowly, your lungs and hence chest expands, the diaphragm is pushed down, and you feel the energy nourishing your body.  Then you start emptying your body of air, right from your stomach.  The abdomen gets pulled in and the diaphragm moves up again.  Your body slowly exhales and once you empty completely, you pause. You feel the lightness and the unhurriedness.  Just one breath at one time.  You can move to the next by and by.  The following will happen when you continue doing the same: 

- Your breathing will slow down (obviously!) 

- Your heart rate will slow down

- Your breathing and heart beat will discover your natural, free rhythm - the one that will feed a consistent and steady supply of oxygen to the body

- As you keep at it, YOU will slow down

- You will find your fight or flight reaction fading away gradually, and your free, natural responsive (responsible) self taking over, in time 

- The more you are able to respond, more you will breathe right, hence creating a positive and regenerative cycle of action 

And so, when you take that one deep breath, you will feel the essence of the space and quality of one breath and you will catch a glimpse of the process it would unfold.  And then, you may (could) continue practicing, one breath at a time. 

Sthirasukhamaasanam, the Magic of the Breath

Sthirasukhamaasanam - II.46, Yoga Sutra

Aasana (seat / posture) is that which is replete with well-being and stability. 

This statement from Patanjali's Yoga Sutra demonstrated itself recently and allowed me a 'profound' experience in a 'mundane' context. The experience yet again removed one of these divisions that we impose on our understanding for convenience - that of phenomena being either profound or mundane.  The profound is to be found in the mundane, and the mundane, in the profound. 

 My daughter and I were traveling in a suburban bus and it was a 2 and 1/2 hour ride. And what a ride it was!  We didn't get seats and the only available were behind the driver right up in the front.  This was one of those Volvo buses where the driver's space is a compartment by itself and the seat behind the driver is almost on top of him. As you may be able to gauge from the picture, it is an extremely precarious position - or at least it surely felt like it to me! With an infant to carry, even more so. You are looking down on a zooming road, vehicles hurtling at you (in your face) at godforsaken speeds, perched on a seat which doesn't want you. The dubious comfort of holding onto something stable (although what is stable about a stampeding huge contraption on the ECR is beyond me) is denied you because both your hands are somehow tied up with securing your child to yourself.  She needs to sleep; this is necessary if you want to ensure that the rest of the day passes in comfort for her and you and other poor, unsuspecting souls around.  And your child particularly needs a good amount of comfort to fall asleep and stay in sleepyland for a while.  I thought kids came possessing the secret knowledge to dozing off in any awkward, bizarre position; this one missed those lessons.  

We have here a situation worthy of Adisesha, the thousand-headed snake holding the Lord as he rests. The story goes that sage Patanjali (who gave us the Yoga sutra) is the incarnation of Adisesha.  While discussing this sutra, sthirasukhamaasanam, one of my teachers, an ardent fan of Patanjali, asked me to consider: "Who is the enemy of the snake? The eagle.  And who is the eagle hovering around Vishnu? Garuda.  So Adisesha had to feel and be sthiram (stable) and sukham (comfortable) while Garuda is around."  He is holding the Lord; he doesn't want to be shifting around to get rid of pins and needles.  He also does not want to make one wrong move, lest the eagle swoops.  Absolute stillness under fire.  One's aasanam to be called thus, has got to be sthiram and sukham not simply in favourable conditions; it's got to be so in the most seemingly 'unfavourable' situations. 

I struggled around awkwardly for a while, adjusting bags, trying to hold onto something, shifting my daughter in my arms to get her comfortable, with her protesting about the movement.  Then the bus lurched. Almost falling, I steadied myself and happened to look up at the road.  Two things happened simultaneously at that moment.  I saw the whizzing scenery in front of me and felt the thrill, the adrenaline rush of danger, and also caught sight of a woman in the driver's rear view mirror.  She was holding a baby, and I said, "Hey, that's a yoga teacher I know!"  The world shifted on its axis, and I exhaled slowly, and long, feeling it in my throat (as how one does while doing aasana practice).*  Then, an inhale. Another long exhale.  A few more such breaths.  With that, my body's intelligence took over.  Without thought, just like that, my body changed my position, I adjusted my legs so that they don't hang, held my daughter securely allowing her to merge more into my space, turned slightly and leaned against the window, all in a graceful flash of a moment (at least, I felt graceful).  

See picture alongside, for the changed position, not to see a graceful curve, or lack of it thereof.  Incidentally, this position also had more butt-space, the comfort of which was infinite.  We seldom are conscious and thankful of it when we usually sit on comfortable, full-butt spaces, are we? I think Thich Nath Hanh called it, to be aware of the non-tooth ache feeling.  

Now with every breath, the space of "aasanam" was welcoming me into it and enfolding me more and more.  The bus twisted and tottered and teetered, the breath held the world steady.  My heart now rat-a-tatted in a peaceful rhythm, and my daughter sighed as she burrowed deeper into sleep.  I was at the same time, quite still all over, and also intensely alive and aware to the scenes and smells streaking past, in slow motion.  I became very aware of the people around, and started judging correctly how the bus was going to move next by looking at the driver's subtle movements (his hands, where he looked, in which direction and how his body inclined as he drove etc).  My  entire being simply, constantly re-adjusted itself to the changes such that it can allow my daughter to be comfortable.  So the body actually felt like a bean bag, completely giving in and squished and relaxed to accommodate the sleeping child and yet alert (even joyous) to the vagaries of the bus and the road, maintaining stillness. The breath kept working it's magic.   

Eventually, my daughter woke up, and we both thoroughly enjoyed the sights and sounds offered to us, ate some idlis and got off at our stop happily.  

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* The shift that happened in that split second in the recognition of the yoga teacher is worthy of an independent inquiry and is not within the scope of this piece