The Beauty of Desire

Morning Skies (II)

Desire is not a problem – it is our very nature. This is one of the first things that my teacher Dr. Douglas Brooks said when I met him nine years ago in the big kick-off weekend for my Anusara® Yoga Teacher Training. His statement continues to resonate as powerfully for me now as it did that first icy but exciting January day.

Desire is our nature. For me, this exuberantly exploded the popular trope that we are trapped and bound by desire - that we are mired in a cycle of always wanting more and that we can never be satisfied until we somehow free ourselves from that inclination. I listened and thought yes! The fact is that I enjoy my desire. I love that longing, that yearning, that delicious notion that there is always more to do, more to feel, more to accomplish, more to taste…and that my desire can take infinite forms, pointing the way toward a multiplicity of experiences and possibilities.

Desire is what gets me out of bed in the morning – the memory of how much I love that first flowery taste of my hot milky tea, that initial yawningly satisfying stretch of my morning Surya Namaskar, the promise of plans and conversations with friends, the excited wait for that satisfying press and scratch of pencil on paper as I draw. Desire is what motivates me, excites me, inspires me. Desire makes me care passionately about things and about people. I love that I can be moved to tears by a Picasso painting or a Fellini film or the taste of a distant hillside in a great glass of wine. I feel incredibly fortunate that I am so deeply connected to my desirous self that it repays me with joy on a daily basis.

I want to become ever more in touch with my desire. I want to step deeply into the flow of passion that moves through my everyday life. Join me: close your eyes, go inside for a moment, and reconnect to that glowing ember called desire that constitutes your very core.

The Beauty of the Dance

His body is half-naked and ash-smeared with a tiger skin draped across his hips. In his two upper hands he holds the drum of creation and the fire of dissolution. His tangle of matted hair is gathered and loosely held in a knot. Perched on the knot is the pale crescent moon behind which descends the waters of the Ganges, which separate and divert into many tributaries, reflecting his infinite forms. He is multiplicity itself. But here he is Nataraja, the dancing form of Shiva.

As he begins to twist and move, his lower left arm and leg rise, crossing over to the right side, the languid hand pointing gently toward his gracefully upturned foot. He holds a fourth hand palm-out, offering abhaya mudra, the sign of fearlessness, inviting us to dare to engage in our own dance, our own process of creativity. As he dances, his dreadlocks fly wildly out from his head revealing glittering diamonds studding their matted swirling length. They reflect and refract the light, creating a dizzying optical spectacle evoking thousands of white sparkling fireworks. Ash and gem. Nature and culture. Visceral instinct and refined choice. This is our center where our contradictions meet.

Who we were, who we are now, who we may be…it’s all in the dance. The grittiest earthiest parts of our makeup combine with our most refined and cultivated sensibilities, because we contain both. In Nataraja’s undulating asymmetrical dance, he conceals one bit of reality and reveals another because this is the way we experience the world. Something surges into focus, something else recedes like the sound of a train in the distance. He stands on Apasmara, representing forgetfulness, because we remember just enough and forget just enough from day to day so that we get to dance again, tasting our own recalled and forgotten beauty. Nataraja is an invitation to dance our lives more deeply, more artfully, connected to the earth and in love with the stars.

Spring Cleaning with Shiva

I’ve decided to do my spring-cleaning in the company of Shiva this year. Or rather, I plan to tap into those aspects of Shiva within me that shift, clarify, and empower. So as I transition through the gray drizzle of early New York City March into the softer season, when rubbery stems of flowers optimistically emerge around the two trees planted in the cement of my block, I’ll be negotiating the same mysterious process of transformation within myself.

Shiva is my map, my game plan. Look at Nataraja, the dancing form of Shiva. In his upper right hand he holds a drum, representing creation. In his upper left hand, he holds fire, for destruction. He supports himself on one bent leg, displaying sustenance or maintenance. These three of Shiva are the ones on which I am focusing right now. Through the contemplation of these acts: creation, destruction, and maintenance, Shiva Nataraja is an invitation into our own consciousness – a path that offers us the opportunity to deeply engage with ourselves and with the world. Shiva is a mirror, inviting us to gaze upon our own lives – to see the choices we make and to more clearly recognize our patterns, to evaluate what is and isn’t working, and what changes we need to make.

Periodically, I notice that my little stacks of books and paperwork have turned into furniture in the corners of my apartment. I realize that the physical stacks of stuff are some interesting sort of parallel to the inner stacks of stuff inside my head and heart. It is time to dissolve them, reorder them, and create a more sustainable system. So those habitual patterns that aren’t serving me – those ways of thinking that limit me – burn them to ash and sweep them away. It is only from this place of clarity that that I can create something substantial, something worth my energy and effort. By daring to destroy, I can create something new that I am excited about sustaining. This is an endless loop. This is a dance. By fully engaging in this dance, my own consciousness becomes Shiva.

How can you skillfully engage and navigate the vicissitudes of your own personal transitions? How can you take hold of Shiva’s tools of consciousness and meaningfully engage them in your dance?