What makes a family?

As I reflect on the whirl of my life, near the end of a Summer that, despite my intentions to savor every moment, has sped by with the ephemeral beauty of a firefly flash; the question of family presents itself.

Last week I visited the Midwest for a family reunion. It was a fascinating and joyful experience; connecting with great aunts and uncles and cousins I had never met before; learning the stories of my grandfather's grandfather, slave turned preacher Tucker E. Wilson; saying goodbye to my grandfather; seeing the legacy in action of fierce pride and dis-ease, deep love and preconceptions, and care. I was certainly the strange California cousin that ran away with the circus, with my Yoga and superfoods and feathers, not fully comfortable or understood, but loved and appreciated all the same.

Now I am preparing for another family reunion, a pilgrimage to a city of art and magic that only exists for a week in the harsh Nevada desert, the festival of Burning Man. Over the past few years, on the Playa and throughout the year, the community around me of artists and seekers, healers and dreamers living on the edge of possibility and participation, increasingly feels like much more than simply friends. We call each other Brother and Sister, and we have ridden through parties and tea dates, moments of great sadness and great joy, death and births and many, many Sunrises. And I still feel not fully comfortable, but more understood and yes, loved and appreciated. There is a depth of honesty and mutually inspired transformation that I do not often witness in mainstream culture. And though I know that my parents and cousins love me unconditionally because that is what blood does, I wonder about the value of choice, the immeasurable value of this family of the heart. And the continuing work to bridge into one family.

  As I watch the Sun set in a finally clear East Bay sky, I am again overwhelmed by the ephemeral beauty and diaphanous dichotomy of this life. Summer has enraptured us, the long sweet days full of ripe fruit and a flurry of activity, somehow even though the days are longer they seem to pass in an instant.    In this time of rapid acceleration, it can be so easy to fall into extremes. Working ourselves into a frenzy, or loosing ourselves in intoxication. But Yoga offers us a balance between striving in the world and enjoying the cosmic play unfolding before us.   Lila, divine play, is both a Sanskrit and Buddhist idea. It is the balance of living as a person with purpose, with the remembrance of ourselves as emanations of the divine.    Lila can be understood as the idea that God immersed Her/Himself into Creation; to experience the drama of time and death and gravity and other delusions; eventually to return to pure formless divinity. There is no good, no bad, only the continuing dance. In order to fully invest in this game, Divinity had to forget about the true nature of reality. Maya is the illusion by which we have become so caught up in the game that we forgot we are playing.   In our lives, embracing this balance of work and play, knowing that everything we do is both worthwhile and meaningless, frees us from having to take any of it too seriously, or being trapped in expectations. Of course there is an earnestness that serves us well - we have the most fun at games when we play with our whole heart. But if we do not maintain the sense of play, then we are lost. The joy with which God/dess chose to immerse in creation is our fountain.    In my own life, I have learned to actively seek this balance. All to often, I have pushed myself to sub many classes in a week, spent hours on the computer chasing teaching opportunities, and then felt burned out or simply crashed. Now, I have learned to take a weekend and go camping, And even more, to let it be a game to ride the BART, or perform an otherwise menial task.   It is not that we take anything for granted, in fact the opposite. Life becomes more sacred when we bring a sense of play to all of it, the work we do, the food we eat, the way we relate to our family. Everyday life can be an act of creation. So this Summer, I encourage you, not to work so hard that you forget the game, not to run from the work of this life with mindless distractions, but the find the balance, to make everything an opportunity to play.

    -:-  Niema Lightseed -:-

Namaste!
Part of the practice of Yoga includes growing past our perceived limitations, and so it is with joy and a little nervousness that I combine two of my passions, writing and teaching. Enjoy, and please feel free to comment!

Oh, the Brahmaviharas. These four simple yet profound principles are present in both Buddhist and Yogic scriptures (Book 1 Sutra 33), and serve as pillars for healthy relating.
 Karuna (compassion), Maitri (loving-kindness), Upeksha (equanimity, or non-reactivity), and Mudita.

Mudita is often translated as "joy for the accomplishments of others," but it's true meaning is even deeper than that. There is the sometimes herculean effort of smiling when someone else achieves something. Choosing to be glad for others, no matter our current situation. At the heart it is joy for another's joy, recognizing that life is not a pie with only a certain number of slices, but an inexhaustible fountain of which we and everyone get to drink.

For me, the practice of Mudita has short-circuited potential jealousy when another teacher has received a class time or client I was hoping for, and allowed me to experience happiness - not just forbearance or grudging respect or the cheery yet inauthentic tone that hides a pool of longing and frustration: but true, spontaneous, surprising, healing joy at their prosperity; joy for the students that will be learning from that teacher; joy for the fact that there will be more Yoga happening in the world. And suddenly, I am free.

Mudita has become a key to a whole new world of abundance ~ if one person is joyful, and every person who witnesses that joy is joyful instead of envious or judgmental, then that joy ripples out and creates more joy in the world exponentially.

It feels like our responsibility, as conscious beings living in relative comfort on this path of healing and self-discovery, to cultivate this joy. To choose joy, again and again, even when our small self would shrink into the opposite; to grow into gratitude, and delight in the light we behold.

If it feels daunting to allow this unselfish joy, start small. The next time you see a child laughing, laugh along. I promise it will transform your day.

Blessings and Namaste,