A Chairde,
I hope you had the loveliest bank holiday weekend :) We are back this Sunday at Thrive to continue our Autumn Yoga term! After a short break we have landed into week four of our five week series, and so we now meet the theme of Vijnanamaya kosha; the intuitive body. I am calling this week's spooky yoga practices INTUITIVE SKELETON. Honouring the time of year. Honouring the spine that holds us up. Honouring our blood and guts and dream insights. Honouring the central nervous system that spirals up and down the bones of our back...and the many ancestors that live inside that system to guide and teach us....
I'm having a little fun this week! Vijnanamaya kosha could not be a more perfect theme for a Halloween weekend. If we know that a kosha in yoga is thought of as a layer of perspective; a lens through which we may see our reality, then for this kosha you might think of the third eye, the sixth sense, the womanly instinct to cast spells, the wizardly impulse to gain knowledge, the unusual ability to listen when a whisper of warning travels on the wind to whistle in ones ear. This is Vijnanamaya Kosha; the spiritual sheath.
Practically speaking, both Hatha and Soft Stretch yoga practices this week will be about exploring and releasing the spine in all its many directions; building awareness from the ground up while opening the chest, heart, and the third eye...so that you may receive messages from the otherworld...and...
Just kidding!
Am I?
Believe it or not, this wild and free way of seeing the different realities of the world is rooted in ancient wisdom and practices. And it all comes to a head this time of year. Allow me to explain.
Many of us know that Halloween (Samhain) originally came from Ireland; where for centuries people believed that as the light dies the veil between worlds grows thin, and one must be careful not to accidentally cross between...or run into some trickster creature (Púca) who already has. October is a time in Ireland to be afraid of creepy creatures crossing over into our world; we are cautious, giddy, perhaps insightful, perhaps feeling devilish ourselves. On Inis Mór, where I grew up and old traditions still thrive, on Samhain night we would cover up our faces, hands, feet ~ anything that might give our identity away ~ and refuse to speak all night. Fifty people could be at a ceíli in full costume head to toe, and you would have no idea who you were dancing with. It was dead silent. This hiding was to trick the Púcai that wandered among us, to confuse them. To give up your identity on Halloween night was to risk being snatched by a púca, or worse.
What a coincidence that half way across the world in Mexico, on pretty much the same day, we see an almost identical belief from indigenous people ~ that the veil between worlds is thin this time of year ~ but with a completely different cultural takeaway. One that has, I dare say, far more wisdom in it. Whereas in Ireland this is a time for fear and mischievousness, in Mexico it is a time to honour those who came before us. A time to acknowledge that perhaps our achievements are not entirely our own. That we would not be who we are without this relative's triumph, or that relative's struggle. A festival to acknowledge our ancestors, who on this day can return as ghosts to spend time with their families. The Day of the Dead.
I once heard a story about the monk Thich Nhat Hanh, a spiritual teacher, who, when handed his brand new book ~ a physical manifestation of his hard work and sacrifice ~ refused to celebrate his achievement. The monks and nuns who had proudly worked with him to publish it were ecstatic for him to see it, and dismayed when he said nothing at all. When Thay received the book, he simply placed it mindfully on his altar and made numerous kneeling bows to the earth, prostrating himself to his ancestors to thank them for what they had given him. It was their work, their success - not his. After honouring them for several minutes, he stood up and exclaimed cheerfully : let's celebrate!
The wisdom of acknowledging and giving credit to the people who came before us is not just a Buddhist or Yogic practice, it exists in numerous indigenous traditions like the ones that still thrive in Mexico around Día De Los Muertos. I wonder sometimes at how western colonial mindset, capitalist goals, and individualistic society steals indigenous wisdom in one swell swoop. Could ancient Samhain once have been a time to see the interconnectedness of all things, to acknowledge the transient nature of life? Before colonial input...did we once honour our dead? Was Samhain always so rooted in superstition and fear?
Either way I love the idea that the supernatural may not be a frightening thing. That wisdom can exist in the realm that sits between what is and what isn't. That someone who is truly connected to their vijnanmaya kosha, their wild and spooky way of seeing the world, like Thay, may ground themselves in it and use it as a way to live free from the mindset of ego and ambition. Is it so wacky to think that there is more influencing our lives than what we can see, taste, and touch? Is it true to say that our achievements and our struggles are purely our own?
Who knows! If you're still here, thank you for reading this Halloween thesis :) I hope to see you this Sunday for yoga! Please let me know if you'd like me to save you a space :)
Le grá,
Macha
