Category Archives: Yoga Philosophy

Connecting With Your Inner Geode

Yoga isn’t about the body. Not really.

Sutras 1.2 – 1.4 discuss the true purpose if yoga. Errors in interpretation and translation are strictly mine.

Sutra 1.2 provides the definition of yoga.

Yogas citta vritti nirodhah
Yoga is the process of learning to control the random fluctuations of the mind.

Sutra 1.3 tells what happens when we achieve that state.

Tada drastuh svarupe avasthanam
Once we have achieved that state, we are connected with our own true nature (we can see clearly).

Sutra 1.4 tells what we can expect if we don’t.

Vritti sarupyam itaratra
Otherwise, what we experience in life is a product of our own conditioning, not reality.

If that doesn’t make sense, try this Tracy translation on for size.

Yoga is the process of learning how to control our mind, so it doesn’t control us. In doing so, we finally overcome our conditioning, and we see things, including ourselves, as they truly are. Otherwise, we remain trapped in the muck of our own emotional quicksand.

Conditioning isn’t all bad. It keeps us safe. It provides the intelligence, the character, and the beauty through with we experience the world. But it also clouds us, holds us back, and feeds into feelings of jealousy, prejudice, attachment and fear.

The sutras promise that no matter what happens to us—or in the world around us, for that matter—we each have a perfect, clear core somewhere deep inside. A spirit of wisdom, kindness, compassion, truth. The tools of yoga—asana, pranayama, meditation, chant and ritual—help us peel away, layer by grimy layer, all that obscures that beautiful being inside us.

The ancients symbolized the mind as a crystal. I like to think of it more as a geode, each with its own emotional fingerprint.

The outer layers of our awareness are dark, clouded and dull. Like the rings of a tree, our inner layers vary and have been formed by influences starting when we were young. Some layers are bigger—more impactful—than others. Some layers are dark and stressful, others bright and happy. But all of us, deep in our core, possess the same inner clarity. All of us, deep in our core, know truth. All of us, deep in our core, are perfect.

Yoga helps you connect with your true self. It’s not easy. It’s often not fun. It usually has nothing to do with stretching your hamstrings. But those moments when you glimpse into that perfect, clear space? They make it all worth it.

This simple meditation practice can help you get started.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle, and check out my author page for information about the Downward Dog Mysteries series. MURDER STRIKES A POSE is available for preorder now from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Whole Life Yoga, and other retailers!

A Meditation To Deal With Difficult People

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We all have people who challenge us in some way, often those closest to us. The yoga teachings say that no matter how much we’d like to, we can never change someone else. All we can change is how we react to them.

Fortunately, that’s usually enough. I learned the wonderful meditation below when I took yoga therapist training many years ago. Give it a try. You might be surprised at the results!

Pratipaska Bhavanam Meditation: Replacing with the Opposites,

Sit comfortably, with your spine erect and the crown of your head floating up to the ceiling. Sitting either in a chair or on the floor is fine, as long as you are physically comfortable and your spine is in “neutral.”
Allow your eyes to close and your focus to go internal.
Notice your breath—without intentionally trying to change it. Feel the warmth and coolness of the breath at the tip of your nostrils. Allow your mind to focus on and pay attention to this feeling of the breath. This will be your anchor and where you will invite your attention whenever your mind wanders.
Bring to mind an interaction that was stressful or contentious in some way in a relationship that’s important to you. Something that challenged you and in which you reacted with anger, fear, stress or frustration.
Try to really feel and “re-live” that interaction.
- What did you feel in your muscles?
- How did your breath change?
- What sensations did you feel in your jaw and face?
- Were you hot or cold?
- What sensations did you feel internally in your throat, your stomach, your chest?
- Were your hands, toes, or teeth clenched?
- What facial expression do you imagine you wore?
- What was your “inner dialogue” like? Did you attribute intentions or motives to the person with whom you were interacting?
- What message did your energy send to that other person?
Now, imagine what it would have felt like—been like—had you instead reacted to the other person with the energy of love, light, and understanding.
- What do you feel in your muscles?
- What is the rhythm of your breath?
- What sensations do you feel in your jaw and face?
- Are your hands, toes, and jaw relaxed?
- What sensations do you feel internally in your throat, your stomach, your chest?
- What facial expression do you imagine you are wearing?
- What is your “inner dialogue” like? Do you attribute intentions or motives to the person you are interacting with?
- What message does your energy send to the person with whom you are interacting?
If your attention wanders (and it will!) just notice it, and invite your attention back to the sensation of the breath at the tip of your nose. Then return to your peaceful place and begin again.
Continue this meditation for 10 minutes or longer if you’d like.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

What Color is Your Monster?

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Whole Life Yoga’s advanced yoga teacher training started this past weekend with a three-day retreat, the primary goal of which was build a single, cohesive community out of thirty students from ten prior trainings—some that took place almost a decade ago.

I planned several small group activities, but I consciously decided to leave out the introductory large group circle, in which every person shares information about themselves, their goals, and their challenges to the rest of the group.

Three weeks ago, I had a sudden feeling that omitting the circle was a bad idea. I sent an e-mail out to the students to get their opinion, and they agreed: the activity had to be on the agenda. One person teased that if we did the circle activity, I might give her another crystal.

Now I had a problem.

My circles come with presents, and these students knew it. In the 200-hour training, each person who introduces themselves receives a clear quartz crystal to place on the mat in front of her. The crystal tells us who has already spoken. Even more, it symbolizes my hope for each class member: the clarity of mind promised by persevering yoga practice.

What did I want for this group, and how would I symbolize it?

I already knew these wonderful people from their 200-hour trainings. Some have studying with me for well over a decade; others less than a year. We were about to start another sixteen month journey, much of which wouldn’t be easy. Many of them were already struggling through very tough times. Clarity. Of course I wished them clarity. But I wished them more than that.

I wished them strength.

Strength to overcome internal and external struggles. Strength to face the inevitable challenges that life would throw their way. Strength to overcome their own internal gremlins.

I told my husband to grab his car keys. Destination: Archie McPhees.

I searched through shelves filled with squishy balls, wind up dentures, rubber chickens, and bacon flavored dental floss. I finally found what I needed in a display rack next to rubber horse heads and assorted Halloween costumes. Monster finger puppets. The perfect symbol for the silly, yet powerful, inner demons we all have. The doubts we allow to hold us back.

Sometimes our demons are critical voices inside our head. Sometimes they take the form of exhaustion. Sometimes they feel a whole lot like fear. But in all cases, we give them their power. Yoga promises that if we take the time, do the work, and have the courage to look at them clearly, they will have no more power over us than these silly rubber toys.

My challenge to all of you, teachers-in-training or not, is to look for the inner demon that holds you back. Confront it. Laugh at it. Refuse to let it stop you. Be all that you want to be and more.

Yoga can help.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

It Took. Words.

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This week’s blog entry was written by guest author Jenny Zenner. Jenny is a graduate of Whole Life Yoga’s teacher training program and a promising writer. She can be contacted at jz*****@***il.com.

It took language to undo the language lashed at me, to make me raw, exposed, weep, alive, aware. Tracy’s words were not tender. No. Tracy Weber is perfectly matter-of-fact. Hearing her voice of honesty broke open my heart and awareness to recognize the earlier words said to me that I believed true. That I was not wanted. That I was an ungrateful, selfish slob. A burden. Three and a half months into Tracy’s yoga teacher training program, I awoke in a new year with the obvious realization of my truth, my completely un-unique experience that I’d accepted as true and denied as existing.

Hearing girlfriends share their own experience, several years of yoga on the mat, several more years of meditation on the cushion, and finally, through Tracy’s open disclosure of words said to her, it added up. By writing the sutra paper assignments, I finally revealed the experiences I had let grip me. Words hysterically sobbed at me stuck. Finally, unstuck, I put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, and began to release the load, letting new language lead me.

It took sitting to find some stillness. It took vinyasa to begin the loosening. It took breath to recognize the shallowness. I was taken. At my tipping point primed by the practice, I arrived to Tracy ripe. Through the language of the sutras, the language of Tracy’s experience, the language of the instruction, I found my own story.

I don’t have to repeat what all words were uttered or by whom. The only finger pointing required is to give credit to those who spoke and wrote the words that healed.

My practice began as an undergrad. As a philosophy minor, I studied eastern religion and finagled an independent study of Living Buddha, Living Christ byThich Naht Hanh (aka “Thay”). Thay’s words paved the way from my Catholic upbringing to Buddhism. Off to grad school, I sought a meditation group led by Pam Perrugi Marraccini in Thay’s lineage. I read and heard speak Tara Brach, Robert Thurman, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and whoever happened to be on Oprah. A dear friend, Allison Parry Leach introduced me to Hilary Steinitz Jackson’s juicy vinyasa flow yoga classes, our girls night out breakup cure. All this prepped me to arrive at Whole Life Yoga to begin becoming whole.

It continued. It took finding love. Getting dropped on my head. Losing my asana practice. Fawn’s physical therapy. Burnstein’s traditional therapy. Bibliotherapy. Acupuncture. Massage.

Putting words to what is, I continue to write. Some stories take manual extraction. Moving through sun salutations, twisting, compressing, and holding poses, yoga unleashes. A jog jars stagnation. Ginger lovingly maneuvers me to necessary insights on her massage table. Touch. Recognition. Connection. The union of rejection and acceptance. Beyond forgiveness to compassion. The words at me. The words with me. The words forward.

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle, and check out Tracy Weber’s author page for information about the Downward Dog Mysteries series. MURDER STRIKES A POSE is available for preorder now from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Whole Life Yoga, and other retailers!

Letting Go of the Past

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I wrote this post several months ago, but as with many posts of a personal nature, I waited to share it. Tasha’s MRI ruled out most scary diseases and identified some that were treatable. The photo in this article was taken 90 minutes after she had surgery to replace her hip, which was hopefully her biggest problem. But the primary learning for me is that, as the sutras say so beautifully, I can hold on to my past and let it dictate my future, or I can let it go and live in this amazing present moment. It’ s my choice. It’s yours as well.

I was nineteen the first time a serious-looking doctor told me I might have a brain tumor. The tiny, rare growth she thought had taken up residence inside my skull terrified me. Tests showed that I probably didn’t have it—yet. But I’d need to be reevaluated if any more symptoms appeared.

In my mid-twenties, a second doctor with an equally serious expression said I needed more definitive tests. If I refused, I potentially faced a number of bad outcomes, including blindness.

And so on, and so on.

For the next several years I rotated through blood tests, contrast CT scans and multiple MRIs. Every time I went to a doctor, the diagnostic circus (and the associated panic) would start again.

In my early thirties, I stopped going to doctors.

By the time I started having checkups again in my forties, my physicians were too focused on menopause to worry about my little non-existent growth.

About two months ago, my beloved dog started ailing, and we don’t yet know why. As a physician friend of mine says, “Ask two doctors and you’ll get three diagnoses.” Tasha has been to six. An MRI can definitively diagnose several issues, but it’s expensive, so most vets don’t recommend it. A few weeks ago, I finally brought it up myself. “Would an MRI be a good idea?” I asked.

The unanimous answer was yes.

As the time for the neurologist appointment approached, I started feeling anxious. Tasha’s health has been improving the last several weeks. We’re finally developing plans for her future. I was the one who suggested an MRI. Why, then did I suddenly start panicking?

I spent some time Saturday reflecting on The Yoga Sutras. The sutras say that dvesa—holding onto prior pain—is one of the primary causes of suffering. In one swooping rush of insight, I realized that my panic was more about my past than Tasha’s future. I had equated Tasha’s upcoming neurologist visit to all of my terrifying evaluations in the past.

Duh.

Somehow, that simple realization calmed me down. My anxiety, while not completely eradicated, was significantly reduced. Tasha and I met the smiling, friendly neurologist this morning. He evaluated Tasha and said that he did, indeed, think an MRI was warranted. But none of the issues he suspects are deadly, most of them can be fixed, and none of them are brain tumors. He suggested we do the test today, so I didn’t have to wait any more. He’s even allowing me to be with my dog as she comes out of anesthesia.

Tasha’s in the MRI now, and I don’t know what the images will show. But I do know that Tasha’s issues have nothing to do with my past. I can release that irrational fear now, thanks to yoga and the insights it continues to give me.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

Compassion in Actions, Words, and Thoughts

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“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” Unknown.

I received an interesting comment from a cyber friend recently. Those of you who know me, know that I love my dog. I adore her. Insufferably. I’m sure people get tired of hearing my Tasha stories, probably with good reason. Only the true dog (or cat, or rabbit or horse, or snake or…) lovers among you can understand.

I know Tasha’s not human. I know she’s “just” a dog. But she’s still part of my family. Her recent health issues have been very challenging for me on emotional, financial, and spiritual levels. And I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s how I process emotions and use them to (hopefully positively) influence my world.

In any case, things are finally looking up for Tasha and me. We ruled out lots of deadly diseases. We made it through hip replacement surgery. And although there’s still a long recovery ahead of her, it looks like she will be with me for hopefully several more years. To say I’m happy, if exhausted, would be an understatement.

I posted about that on Facebook.

First, let me say that I LOVE Facebook. I enjoy seeing photos of people’s kids, updates on their daily activities, inspirational sayings, and cute puppy pictures. I use it to ask for energy and to encourage others and give them support. So it was natural for me to share good news from a veterinary surgeon about my dog’s likely return to health.

The vast majority of people didn’t say anything about the post. The rest replied with encouragement.

One person, however, chose a different route. She chose to berate me, saying that I wrote more about my dog in that post (a few sentences) than most people write about their dying parents. She continued to write that I must be pretty darned lucky if I could write so much about a dog when others were suffering true hardships.

I considered replying, but I didn’t. I just let it go.

I regret that. So now, here is my reply. First, yes, I’m lucky. So very, very lucky. I know that. I have a wonderful life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I don’t write about my father on Facebook because sadly, he died almost 13 years ago. My mother is healthy, as is my husband, thank God.

My dog is not.

I love this four-legged creature that has blessed me so much, to a fault. I know some people don’t understand that love, and I can live with that.

Why am I writing about this? The yoga sutras say we should always act with compassion—in actions, words, and thoughts. Today, I challenge all of you—myself too—to remember that in all of our communications—be they in person or on social media. We each have the power to make someone’s day brighter. Let’s use it.

Karma Yoga—the Yoga of Service—and a Special Class on Sunday, June 2nd

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Westerners often mistakenly believe that yoga means performing asanas, or yoga postures. Although yogis gain many emotional and physical benefits by practicing asana, it is only one small part of yoga. Hatha Yoga—the type of yoga most often practiced in the West—actually contains five practices: asana, pranayama (breath exercises), chant (use of sound), meditation, and ritual.

But Hatha Yoga isn’t the full extent of yoga, either. Even though many of Hatha Yoga’s practices are physical, its goal is to clarify the mind. Other types of yoga have different goals: exploring truth, practicing spiritual devotion, providing service, even experiencing sensory pleasure.

This weekend, I invite you to explore Karma Yoga: the yoga of service.

The word karma means action; yoga means union. So the phrase “karma yoga” literally translates as “union through action.” The internet defines Karma Yoga as service without consideration of personal gains, likes, or dislikes. I define it as compassion in action without attachment. In other words, Karma yogis take action in order to decrease suffering in another—without being hung up on the results.

At Whole Life Yoga we typically practice Hatha Yoga, but this Sunday’s special afternoon class—a by-donation fundraising class for City of Hope—will be all about karma. City of Hope provides research, care, and alternative therapies for people fighting cancer, diabetes, HIV/AIDS, and other life-threatening illnesses.

City of Hope is a very special organization. I think their website says it best:

We are proud of our numerous institutional distinctions…as we remain true to our overriding mission to heal the whole person. That means nurturing the emotional, spiritual, social, as well as physical well-being of those in our care.

For many people, City of Hope is where hope begins.

Please join Rene de Los Santos in this special class on Sunday, June 3, from 12:30 to 2:00. The class is appropriate for all levels, and 100% of the proceeds will go directly to City of Hope.

If you can’t attend, you can still help. Simply drop a donation by the studio at any class before Sunday at 2:00 PM. Make checks payable to “Yoga for Hope,” and place cash in an envelope marked “Donation: Yoga for Hope.”

You can also donate online at this link.

Thank you for helping bring hope to those who desperately need it.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle, and join my author mailing list for updates on MURDER STRIKES A POSE, available January 8, 2014 from Midnight Ink!

Facebook, Community, and Joy–Found in Seattle

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Joy rests after her long journey home

Those of you who are connected to me via Facebook may have noticed an increase in my postings there lately. To be honest, I’m hooked. I waste—or rather, invest—a couple of hours on it each day. My activities are varied: from oohing and aahing over cute puppy pictures, to sharing my adventures in trying to get published, to asking complete strangers if it’s silly to cry over Superbowl Clydesdale commercials. But one story really caught my attention.

A week ago last Saturday Tasha, a friend, and I were walking on Greenwood Avenue, when a complete stranger stopped us and handed us a flyer. “Have you seen this dog?” she asked. We told her we hadn’t. She then said, “Keep your eyes open. She even has her own Facebook page.” I put the flyer in my pocket and looked, but I didn’t find the dog. The retriever mix’s sad eyes still haunted me the next day, so I visited her Facebook page, hoping to learn she’d been recovered.

I was far from the only person who visited “Joy lost in Ballard.” Literally hundreds of people followed the discussion and offered to help. I shared the page on the studio’s and my personal pages and forwarded information on when I could.

The odds of a happy ending weren’t good.

Joy had moved to Seattle from an out-of-state shelter just three days before she disappeared. She was easily frightened, and she hadn’t fully bonded with her new forever home. Worse yet, she slipped her collar, so she had no tags, and she didn’t yet know her name. Joy was more likely to run from someone trying to help than come to them.

I continued following the story. My husband warned me that I was l annoying my Facebook friends by continuing to post updates. Yet shortly after he chided me, I caught even him checking for Joy sightings and considering joining the search. Like me, he was hooked.

I don’t know if anyone involved in Joy’s story has ever done yoga, but they are all yogis. Complete strangers volunteered to get up at 3 AM to check humane traps, kept waders and dog treats in their cars “just in case,” discussed dog capture strategies, and created Joy sighting maps.

These kind strangers were living examples of two yoga principles: sangha (community) and active compassion. The Yoga Sutras say that when yogis encounter suffering, they should respond with active compassion. In other words, yogis shouldn’t waste time feeling bad, we should help. The teachings also promise that in community, we find energy and healing we can’t find alone. That group of electronically-connected strangers demonstrated both of those concepts perfectly. They restored my faith in humanity.

Ten days after she bolted, Joy was reunited with her family. She’s healthy and happy to be back home. We may never know what transpired during her adventure, but her travels touched the hearts of all those who helped her. And the people who helped her definitely made a mark on mine.

Thanks to all of you who helped Joy and sent her positive energy. May you continue to find your own Joy in Seattle.

Namaste

Tracy

PS–I truly love getting to know students and fans on Facebook! “Friend” me at https://www.facebook.com/tracywe

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle!

Ahimsa in Life—Lessons from the Tasha Dog

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Ahimsa—non-violence—is one of the most important concepts in yoga. In fact, the Yoga Sutras say it’s not just important; they say that ahimsa trumps all. In other words, when in doubt about what to do in any situation, act with ahimsa above all else. But ahimsa’s not as simple as choosing not to slug your neighbor when he annoys you. Ahimsa means non-harming at all levels: actions, communications, intentions—even thoughts.

I don’t always succeed, but I’ve tried to live this way since long before I took my first yoga class. One memorable incident happened around third or fourth grade. I tearfully convinced my grade school science teacher to cancel the planned grasshopper dissection so I could release the small, winged creatures back out into the field. I’m pretty sure the grasshoppers were happier about my success than the school groundskeeper.

Fast forward 30 years and enter one willful, stubborn, and impossible-to-potty-train puppy.

I fell in love with Tasha the moment I saw her, even though she was only three weeks old. I gushed as I told the breeder all of my plans for the “soon-to-be-mine” puppy. Holistic vets, positive dog trainers—I even asked if Tasha could be vegetarian. The breeder’s expression changed from interest, to concern, to outright disbelief.

When I finished, she said, “I can’t sell a puppy to you. You’re too nice to own a German shepherd. This dog will walk all over you, and you’ll return her to me, ruined.” I begged her to reconsider. She did, but only after handing me a list of requirements: specific training books, Western vets, and high-meat dog foods. Then she sent me home and told me to come back when I could prove my worthiness.

Five weeks later, I returned, carrying a dog crate and looking my toughest. I threw around terms like prong collars, leash pops, and human pack leaders. Convinced she’d converted me, she sold me my dog.

Unfortunately, Tasha never read those training books.

She was smart as a whip, but had no concept of bladder control. I followed all the rules in the books. I tethered her to me; I took her out every hour; I carefully watched for the circling and sniffing they promised would happen.

It never did.

Tasha was a trickster. Her favorite trick was to wait until I went to the bathroom. Then she’d immediately squat just out of reach and do the same. I’m not sure who spilled more urine on our bathroom floor—her as she squatted, or me as I tried to grab her.

I e-mailed the breeder and followed her advice. I threw toilet paper rolls at my puppy; I rattled coins in jars; I sternly scolded her each time she was “naughty.” My tactics weren’t quite up there with shock collars, but they weren’t exactly ahimsa-like, either. The only thing that changed was Tasha. She had the same number of in-house accidents, but now she cringed, waiting to be punished, after each one.

This lasted a week; then I came to my senses. I tossed out the training books, stopped calling the breeder, and followed instead what I knew in my heart. Instead of punishing Tasha when she did wrong, I gushed with enthusiasm when she did right. The change was immediate. My puppy changed overnight from frightened and cringing to boisterous and happy. Perfecting her potty training took much longer, but I could live with that.

Over the years we’ve dealt with issues much more serious than soiled carpeting. But my training approach has stayed true. I treat Tasha with praise, love, and a complete lack of violence, in actions, words and vocal tone.

Tasha grew into a wonderful dog, but she wasn’t the only one changed. People noticed the shift in me, too. Since I’ve lived with my dog, people tell me I’m kinder; my interactions with others, more patient. Tasha taught me more about ahimsa than the sutras ever could.

Vets and trainers tell me that Tasha’s trust in me is impressive. Strangers walk by us, yelling at their own dogs while jerking their leashes. Then they stop and tell me they wish their dog was as well-behaved as mine. People even yell from the distance, “You two are so good together!” And they’re right. But only because I followed the yoga teachings instead of a well-meaning dog breeder.

My challenge to each of you is to examine your interactions with others—both human and animal. Notice your actions, communications, and thoughts. Try to act with more compassion—more ahimsa.

You may not change the behaviors of those around you, but you will definitely change yourself.

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle!

And for those of you interested, I did end up working with a great Seattle dog trainer, who shares this philosophy. They even use the word ahimsa in their business name! Ahimsa Dog Training. Here’s their link on ahmisa.

Practicing Non-Attachment without Becoming Detached

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The concepts of attachment and non-attachment are mentioned several times in The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Asana, on the other hand, is only mentioned as a preparation for meditation. So though most people think asana is the be-all and end-all in yoga, practicing non-attachment is significantly more important. But what is non-attachment, exactly, and what does it imply about how we relate to our world?

The sutras say raga—attachment—is neither good nor bad. In fact, it’s an important part of human survival. If it weren’t for attachment, I’m pretty sure my parents would have strangled me by the age of thirteen. In spite of that, the sutras warn, attachment can lead to suffering.

Not too many people argue with the fact that being attached to money or possessions can cause suffering. But this whole idea of being non-attached to people, ideals, or outcomes? Well, that seems to be tougher. The prevailing question is always the same: How can I be non-attached without becoming detached?

Personally, I don’t see the problem; the two concepts are completely different. Non-attachment implies being of this world, but not caught up in it. Detachment, on the other hand implies withdrawing from the world, either in an effort to avoid its complications or because we simply don’t care.

When we are non-attached, we practice; we love; we help others. And we work to leave our best mark in the world. But we do so knowing that the outcome may be different than we envision, and we are OK with that. We’re not tied up in the specific results.

For example, I can practice yoga faithfully without caring if I ever get my foot behind my head; I can accept the actions of my friends and family even when they treat me differently than I would hope; I can give of my time and energy to others—and still feel good about it—even if they choose a different path than I think they should. All while remaining at peace. I give to the world with a full heart regardless of the outcome, because I know that, in the long term, things generally turn out as they should.

Detachment, on the other hand, implies an uncaring numbness—a hollowness in relation to the world around us. When we are detached, we feel separate from others; we lack empathy; we feel defeated. We may experience this as indifference, depression, self-importance, aloofness, or even numbness. But the result is inevitably the same. When I am detached, the world exists, but I don’t connect with it. I don’t take action; I don’t practice; in fact, I don’t do much of anything. Why would I bother?

A life of detachment feels desolate; one of non-attachment, serene. Our world will be a much better place when it is overflowing with active, compassionate, non-attachment. Only then can we find harmony and peace.

What are your thoughts? Please post a comment below.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle!

Tracy Weber – Whole Life Blog

Yoga, dogs, and mysteries… what could be more fun?

Category Archives: Yoga Philosophy

Connecting With Your Inner Geode

A Meditation To Deal With Difficult People

What Color is Your Monster?

It Took. Words.

Letting Go of the Past

Compassion in Actions, Words, and Thoughts

Karma Yoga—the Yoga of Service—and a Special Class on Sunday, June 2nd

Facebook, Community, and Joy–Found in Seattle

Ahimsa in Life—Lessons from the Tasha Dog

Practicing Non-Attachment without Becoming Detached