Dear Yoga Friends, 

In this beautiful space between Christmas and New Year I invite you to roll out your mat for a daily ten minute savasana (lying down Corpse Pose) with an inquiry. Those of you who have experienced my classes will have received this same guidance into savasana many times. This guidance also contains a structured exploration of where you might focus your thoughts during the practice to experience wakefulness, compassion, curiosity, not-knowing and acceptance. 

What is this, what is here? 

This is a ten minute savasana with an inquiry practice. This could be something you do on it’s own, any time during the day, or it could form part of a structured, daily, disciplined practice. It might be nice after yoga, or a stretch, or a morning walk/run, whatever you fancy. The body becomes a little more interesting when it is more ‘awake’, however, any time is a good time for you to ask yourself, with kindness and curiosity, what is this, what is here? The intention for this practice is to cultivate a sense of allowing. 

Start by lying comfortably, a yoga mat on the floor, the couch, the bed. My intentions for my practice plus the time of day determine the levels of padding I seek; if I think I might benefit from drifting off to sleep I’ll set myself up accordingly. 

Allow the first little while to get settled, move around a bit as you need to. See if you can sense, or feel, the many different sensations in the body as is this happens. It’s calming and soothing to start by noticing the points of contact with the floor, starting with the feet. Sweeping your attention through and then just noticing what is the next most noticeable sensation in the body. For me I will often notice my legs feel heavy, my feet cold, my surface very soft, or hard, that kind of random awareness sweeping around. I notice how my breath is (usually fast to start), maybe  noticing my heart beat, or not. Usually I’ll notice my overall tone if it’s very rushed or anxious or busy or stressed. Sometimes I might not even notice, my attention might drift to other parts of the body, the hint of a knot in my tummy, the subtle ache in my chest, a gripping in my jaw. What is this, what is here? Making space, allowing. 

Pretty soon, for most of us, a thought comes and interrupts, we can even get swept away on a whole chain of thoughts. A memory, a plan, a day-dream, a longing or craving, something annoying us, we’re gone. This is not a mistake. This is exactly how the human brain functions: our patterns of mental processing repeat and take us off on habitual ways of thinking. Then, there’s the moment of realising that … an awakening … and then we have CHOICES. 

1. After noticing your attention has drifted away you pull your attention right back to the breath or the body. This is often taught as a form of meditation called Focused Attention training. It’s a useful and interesting practice. This is often my ten minute seated daily meditation practice. 
2. Notice what you had been thinking about, eg. planning, daydreaming, arguing, make a mental note to remember it, and then come back to what you had intended being focused on, eg, the contact points of the body on the floor, or the breath. Begin again with your practice, what is this, what is here. 
3. Noticing what you had been thinking about and PAUSING. Hold that in your field of awareness and then open up to noticing if there is anywhere in the body you can feel sensations in reaction to what it was you have been thinking about, the place you got carried away to. Stay with that for a few breaths, a few moments. A few moments of curious not knowing, of gentle investigation, what is this, what is here? 

What is it? Tara Brach calls it a field of sensation, John O'Donoghue a harvest of memory, spirit, and dream. 

I find it helpful to have a little alarm to end my practice. A little stretch might be nice before slowly coming back. A journal might be interesting for approaches 2 or 3 above. Remember, we are not trying to change anything, or fix anything, or fix ourselves. Our practice is one of noticing, of acceptance, of allowing. Allowing things to be as they are, allowing ourselves to be as we are. From that place of acknowledgement and acceptance we then have a bit of space, a bit of wiggle room, a place where we feel held and supported and safe. 

Wishing you peace in the coming days and time for you to come back to the quiet light shining in your heart. I'm closing my wishes for the season with the words of the Irish poet, John O'Donoghue. 

"There is a quiet light that shines in every heart. It draws no attention to itself though it is always secretly there. It is what illuminates our minds to see beauty, our desire to seek possibility and our hearts to love life. Without this subtle quickening our days would be empty and wearisome, and no horizon would ever awaken our longing. Our passion for life is quietly sustained from somewhere in us that is wedded to the energy and excitement of life. This shy inner light is what enables us to recognize and receive our very presence here as blessing. We enter the world as strangers who all at once become heirs to a harvest of memory, spirit, and dream that has long preceded us and will now enfold, nourish, and sustain us."

Kindest regards, 

Sylvia. 

sylviayoga.com
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