Alexandra Moga

From humorous takes on the pains of complex asana, to a soaring spoken word stream wrapped up in rhythmic flute beats, this yogi-poet was on hand to not only get you the scoop, dear reader, but to also share her own contribution to this monumental work of art, one representing our generation’s “spiritual warriors, compassionate renegades, lovers of truth and seekers of wisdom.”

Yoga, as we’ve discovered this past headline-rich week, is more than what it seems, and certainly more than meets the eye. Oh, we know what it looks like: graceful (or not) postures, lotus seats and eyes a-closed on inner landscapes. But now, society at large is gradually waking up to the reality that defining and, moreover, understanding yoga, begets a complex and richly faceted discussion, one that only just begins with the body.

Looking closer, we see that yoga is undoubtedly something of an art form, a holographic tool which, at the level of the body and with a great teacher to get you going, is accessible enough to send ripples far and wide, initiating personal observations, expressions, and insights. The vessel of the body in yoga postures has put countless into contact with the awakening of more fulfilling patterns in thought, speech, and action. But it’s the philosophy, an ancient and simple wisdom, when packaged with movement, guided breathing and responsible awareness, which triggers that more profound and subtle awakening towards the ultimate: a unified state of consciousness. When actually combined with written meditations of poetry and prose, the art of yoga, of honest reflection and attention, becomes truly grace-full – serving as an inspired guide for how to live, work, and thrive by connecting seeds of inner intentions to blossoming outer manifestations for a higher good.

One man with his hand definitively in the pot of co-creation is HawaH, who in 2009, started developing a workshop called The Poetry of Yoga. He took this workshop on tour throughout the country, encouraging people to write poetry while doing yoga. When, through this alchemical work of weaving writing and movement, he discovered its instrumental role in transforming and healing, HawaH “realized the soul-stirring poetry [they] were creating had to be shared with others.” In the fall of 2010, he sounded the call for yogis around the world to share their yoga-inspired word-art. Thus began a modern-day renaissance of those mystic poets Hafiz, Mirabai and Rumi, brought to life through the lens and pens of a 21st century culture.

With the help of social media, HawaH received over 1,500 pages of submissions originating from 16 countries. Distilled into 333 pages of poetry, volume one of The Poetry of Yoga was released in November 2011, featuring works from internationally celebrated master teachers and authors, including: Sharon Gannon, Krishna Das, Lilias Folan, Rod Stryker, Swami Ramananda, Tias Little, Sianna Sherman, Judith Lasater, Doug Swenson, Chuck Miller, Erich Schiffmann, Joseph Goldstein, Leza Lowitz, Shiva Rea, Michael Stone, Aadil Palkhivala, Douglas Brooks, Climbing Poetree, among many more.

Featured poets for the evening included: Fred Arcoleo, Sarah Herrington, Alexandra Moga, Anandi Premlall, Lacretia Mohammed, Lauren Milano, Susan Littlefield, Barry Denny, Katie Capano, and Alixa Garcia of Climbing Poetree. The night began with a powerful invocation by Sharon Gannon who, with clarity and a motivating confidence, invited all those present to attune their receptive antennas to the grace and beauty of the sharing that was to take place.

HawaH next addressed the warm (literally and metaphorically) room of over 100 guests, giving his testament that “as deep as the need for survival is the need for creative expression and cooperation.” To that end, the dynamic work of the non-profit One Common Unity supports a movement for peace education and the building of a non-violent culture through music and arts. To sustain One Common Unity’s mission, 50% of book sales feed back into arts-based health and wellness, conflict resolution, and nonviolence education for inner-city youth.

As a contributor and participant, I felt that the cathartic act of sharing my written work aloud, a work drawn out of blessed moments of revelation, electrified me and consequently, the room I was so connected to. As any performer, speaker or teacher can attest, when sharing spirit through your words, there is a definitive coming together. And isn’t the essential goal of yoga just that, unity?

During Alixa Garcia’s powerful spoken word piece, you could feel the words thread themselves through her rhythmic delivery, pounding into ears hungry for meaning, down to hearts all together understanding, in a flash, at once uplifting the energy of the room fiercely. Applause shook as she dropped her last word, tying up our newly painted picture and eliciting a deep appreciation for her delivered truths.

Fred Arcoleo, a musician, poet and yoga practitioner had this to say, “I became aware of the beautiful melding of body and mind when poetry dances with yoga, particularly evidenced for me during the musical numbers and during Susan Littlefield’s spontaneous stretching interlude. I think this is just the beginning of a journey for me to weave poetry into my yoga practice and vice versa.”

When compiled and offered as a global reflection, the many poems, colors, perceptions and cadences, in The Poetry of Yoga together stand as one glowing source of light. Throughout the night, as authors’ voices articulated their very own creations, source and tone reunited, resonating still words from a page into feeling embodied as originally experienced and intended.

Perhaps it is our job to take the fundamental goal of yoga: unity of body, mind and spirit, and work to elevate it beyond our ever-conditioned, oft-dogmatic systems of belief into a direct and unfettered personal experience. One that when shared, helps us to realize the more we choose to find and express it, the more we are indeed one whole, poetic and common humanity. ~ Alexandra Moga

Originally posted at http://www.yogadork.com/news/the-poetry-of-yoga-book-event-movement

While you’re there meet the folks who run Plovgh, an alternative CSA project, now with Friday pickups at Hosh (check out Events Page).

Jana Malloy

When any really good gift arrives for you, on the other end there is a giver. The giver was a girl named Melanie. Melanie had just left India and was on a spiritual journey that, quite honestly, was way over my head. I was intrigued, and we took to each other quickly, having quiet conversations and practicing asana during our down time. I wasn’t quite sure what she had, but I wanted it. That peaceful glow and naturally soft nature; she seemed wise beyond her years.

Now, I cannot remember if she gave me the book, or just suggested I read it. I suppose it does not really matter, but what does matter is that I picked up a paperback copy of Paramahansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi. As the pages unfolded in front of me, my love grew deeper—my passion stronger. I wanted that peace and tranquility. I wanted to believe, truly believe, in something greater than myself. I wanted the comfort of a greater existence, a plan so to say, that I had no control over. The idea that my existence could be different and better than I’d ever known appealed to the deepest, most secret parts of my soul.

It’s funny to look back over the years and notice how my focus has changed, how my practice has changed, how my intentions have changed. It is nice to tell this little story of how I got started on my yogic journey. I spent many years focusing on the asana. Telling myself that I would be happy when I could put my chest on the floor in a wide leg forward bend. That I would be happy when I could do a headstand, handstand, jump through to my bottom like a real Ashtanga yogi, etc. It is true that sometimes I still get caught up in trying to accomplish a certain asana. As I think back to that first shoulder stand, I remember for the first time seeing the flesh of my belly tumbling towards my face (I also used to carry around 20 more pounds of it). I remember my legs wobbling. Yet, I also remember the sky just beyond the tips of my toes. I remember the stony, dry, hard earth beneath my shoulders, pressing into the back of my head. Like any REAL, TRUE love, it was not what the pose looked like that I fell in love with. It was the way it made me feel.

I still come to my mat, almost everyday and try to tap into that same sensation. My understanding of that connection has deepened. Am I also still trying to do a handstand for more than two seconds? Do I still have loads to learn? Of course. Did I learn that being able to wrap myself up into a pretzel doesn’t make me a better yogi? Well, yeah. I believe the mark of a good yogi is found in the earnestness to practice, the devotion, the intention of realizing God. And you know what? These are the things that do make me happy. Happiness is not the goal; happiness is the way. Yoga is the way.

Retrospectively my vision is 20/20. That is what Melanie had. She had the passion, the devotion, the yearning, the understanding of something greater than herself. She encouraged me to see same qualities within myself. So maybe, Melanie did not give me any of that at all. It already existed in me. But she did give me a little bit of courage and inspiration. Priceless gifts are the best gifts of all. You never know when just being yourself will touch another person’s life and be the catalyst to a life-altering shift. I just want to send a thank you out into the universe, all the way to Melanie. Our meeting changed my life. That is why I teach yoga, and why I practice everyday. You never know when just one word or one touch might be so much more to just one person. After all, everyone is just one person. ~ Jana Malloy

Isabel Ezrati

I had a hard time getting started when I decided to try meditation last year. So I developed a technique for tricking myself into it. I’d wake in the morning with “monkey mind” as some call it. Lost in a jungle of thoughts, thinking of the to-dos for the day and perhaps dreams of the night and whatever else, I’d ask myself to sit and take just three breaths. Three breaths seemed feasible — I couldn’t say that I didn’t have time. Anyone has time for three breaths! Focusing on my breath for three breaths was the best I could do for a while. And then three became five. And then five turned to ten and that eventually became ten minutes.

In this process, I discovered that eliminating thought was impossible. So I imagined my thoughts like vines that the monkey in my mind would grab, taking him this way and that. When the “monkey mind” is in full swing (yes, pun intended), the monkey swings from one thought to the next without pause. In these moments, I see no separation between who I am and what I’m thinking. I can be as easily validated and trumped up by my thoughts as they can put me down and victimize me. They control my direction, my sense of self. But when the monkey is still, when he sits and simply observes the vines come and go without grabbing, I am no longer my thoughts — I’m a witness of my thoughts. They don’t control me — I can watch them come and let them go while I bring my focus back to my breath again and again. But naturally, a monkey likes to swing. Meditation trains the monkey.

And the monkey had been running wild this month, swinging around like crazy, bringing me up and down with every thought that passed through. I could not, for love or money, get myself to sit and train him. My monkey was multi-tasking a mile a minute, and I was giving him no direction. And I knew he was forgetting all his training, flailing around in my head, taking every thought and grabbing onto it for dear life. My stress level rose. I felt like I had no time to do anything. I was overwhelmed. Until finally today, I found myself in a huge quiet room with time to spare. Did I check my email? No. Did I review my planner? No. I decided to train the monkey. I counted ten breaths. And time slowed down, and I felt so much lighter, in fact transformed. Life became manageable again.

So my monkey and I, we’re working on it – but, you know, it takes practice. -Isabel Ezrati

Danielle White

You would think I came to my first yoga class kicking and screaming. But I did it of my own volition. I was seven months pregnant and it was a prenatal class – how hard could it be? A little breathing a little stretching– and on my way home buy a pint of ice cream for all my hard work. Before long Coldstone creamery and I were fast friends, yoga being the bridge to our blissful weekly reunions.

Fast forward two years later when I (ironically) landed a job at a health and fitness company. I took a vinyasa class during my lunch hour to quiet the voice in my head that kept reminding me that being a new mom was no longer valid excuse for not working out (specially since my friend pint had become a permanent resident on my thighs). To my surprise I ended up shaking and panting my way through the entire class. What happened to a little breathing and a little stretching?! The next day I couldn’t even move. But every week I found myself coming back for more. In time, the practice of linking breath and movement allowed me to observe my reactions to myself, the people around me and my environment. What I had learned theoretically from spiritual books became applicable in a practical way. Poses that I once viewed as impossible, became possible which still makes me wonder – what other limitations do I unnecessarily impose on myself? The only way to find out is to show up, roll out my mat and practice. ~Danielle White