We teach what we have to learn.

For as long as I can remember, this has been my humble response every time people have told me that they learned from me. It is something that I think my mother said to me years ago, and it has been true for me ever since. Lately the idea has been bearing itself out in fairly dramatic form.

I decided to start theming my classes around the yamas and niyamas partly because it seemed that all of the other people from my training were theming their classes, it looked fun, and it would give me an opportunity to dig a little deeper and structure my classes for ten weeks. I have learned so far that as I attempt to write about about high-fallutin topics like non-harming and non-lying, getting stuck in the essay means that there is something that I just don’t quite get yet, something that isn’t totally owned or internalized. Writing about satya, non-lying, was especially challenging. I managed to get something together last night for my teaching site, but it still felt incomplete:

More on the Eight Limbs of Yoga – Satya

The first of the eight limbs of yoga are the yamas, the “don’ts” of an ethical life. There are five yamas, the second of which is satya, non-lying. On the surface, the meaning of satya is obvious: tell the truth, all the time. For many, this may seem idealistic. Our experience tells us that there times when we must lie, especially to protect another person’s feelings. After all, if we tell the truth and it is hurtful, are we then not practicing ahimsa?

Satya is not a license to be cruel, or to spout off our opinions unsolicited. One can express the truth in a manner that is kind, even if the truth itself may cause temporary discomfort or disappointment.

It is interesting to think about what would happen if we really told the truth all the time, and how it would change our conversations, from the passing pleasantries we share with co-workers, to important discussions with our families. Instead of hardwired statements like “fine,”"great,” “the usual,” and “of course, dear,” -which can bring their own harm- we might suddenly find our conversations filled with statements like, “I know, but I don’t want to tell you because I am afraid of what you will think of me,” and “I feel guilty because my opinion will hurt your feelings.” And sometimes, “I don’t know.”

How might your conversations change if after everything you said, you asked yourself, “is that so?” Truth telling is not restricted to our relationship with others; it applies to our relationship with ourself as well. Of the thousands of thoughts you have in a day, how many are actually true? What might happen if each and every thought were followed by the statement “is that so?” “I need a cup of coffee.” Is that so? “Everything will be better once I finish this project.” Is that so? These are just the little thoughts that form our experience. What of the larger thoughts and stories about life that we don’t notice or question? “This is just how relationships are after a while.” Is that so? “I can’t enjoy this too much, or something bad will happen.” Is that so? “No one really gets me.” Is that so?

Most often, we don’t tell the truth because we are afraid, and with good reason. If we started to tell the truth all the time, our lives would change radically; it is easy to imagine. Anything that is no longer true for us would start to fall away, the relationships, the jobs, the tasks, even some things that seem to bring us pleasure. It sounds scary – what would be left?- but shedding that which is untrue about our lives is like shedding garments that no longer fit, or changing a hairstyle that is no longer practical. Others may approve or disapprove, some may think we look like an entirely different person, but really, we have just found a more fitting way to move through the world.

This is the great power that exists in the truth. When we embrace it for ourselves, the world transforms around us.

I kept going back to the mala – satya, satya, satya. Still clunky. Before I taught today, again, satya, satya, satya, round after round, and still I felt like I was tripping over my words as I taught. Something wasn’t quite getting through.

Then, true to form, it hit. Really getting ahimsa with regard to the relationship with the self was exhilarating. Really getting satya sucked. “Is that so?” is a good start -it forces the mind to slow down and evaluate every thought, every idea, every story- but going beyond that, pausing between each and every thought, idea, and interaction, to consider whether it is honest, true, and kind is downright brutal. I guess we all know that we hide things about ourselves from ourselves, but truly owning it and being responsible for it is a different story. Many meditative traditions teach that once you wake up it is impossible to go back to sleep. I get that in a different way every day.

So, we’ll see if my teaching tonight is different from my teaching this morning. And hopefully, I won’t forget camel pose again.

On the first night of training, Kim said that the training process was “transformative.” In a way, it was. Aside from learning the postures and the philosophy, there were all the meditations and soul searching activities. What I kind of got during the training and really get now is that those weren’t the transformation, those were just clearing out all the junk for the transformation to happen. Actually inhabiting teaching, completely owning it, is where the real work starts.

I know I run the risk of sounding yoga-evangelical, but ditch the sanskrit and it’s pretty universal stuff. Kindness, honesty. It is making me a better person, but dang. It is a little uncomfortable getting there.