Posts In: non-attachment

by Laura McCorry

I’m still rather new to minimalism. I love the concept – a clutter-free home that invites both unexpected guests and private relaxation. But the practice of de-owning often feels overwhelming and exhausting.

In July, I was invited to participate in a 30-day declutter group hosted online. It was great to have the support of other people in the group and to have a pre-set monthly schedule of different areas of the house to tackle each day. It usually didn’t take me more than ten or fifteen minutes, and every day I found items I could place in a large cardboard box marked for donation.

Then the cardboard box sat in a corner of my bedroom for three months. Does this sound familiar? Sometimes the follow-through is the hardest part. But just last week – last week! – I made a trip to a household hazardous waste site (don’t throw your batteries in the trash, people!), electronics recycling, and a local charity that accepts household and clothing donations. It only took about an hour.

When it doesn’t take very much time, why is it still so hard to let go?

So often in life, I find myself clinging and grasping. I keep letters from loved ones, gifts that remind me of people, books that remind me of people. I try to hold on to the idea and experience of my toddler as an infant, and I feel a kind of desperation every time I realize another day has finished, never to return.

One of the eight limbs of Yoga is Aparigraha, which translates as non-greed, non-attachment, non-grasping. Fear teaches us to cling tight, even to things which can’t be held. When we let go, maybe prying open one finger at a time, we find Trust, Plenitude, Equanimity. (These words that don’t have an everyday coinage because they’re so frequently out of circulation.)

To what (or to whom) do you find yourself clinging most often? Is there physical or emotional baggage holding you back from feeling a sense of peace with the present moment?

Yoga’s emphasis on the present moment actually helps me to be a better minimalist. When I shift my focus to what actually matters, right this very moment, it’s easier to see how so many objects in my life belong to the past or to an as-yet-unrealized future. As Autumn’s full glory approaches, I intend to simplify my home and my routines, letting go of excess to better appreciate the things, people, and routines that serve me best right now.

Thoreau himself embraced yogic values with his injunction to “simplify, simplify.” Let go of grasping and see what fills your hands and your heart.

Laura McCorry
Contributing Writer

Yoga and Laura had an on-again-off-again relationship from 2004 until 2009 when they decided to move in together and there’s been no looking back since. Passionate about both yoga and writing, Laura loves to introduce others to the joys and benefits of yoga and healthy living.

Contact: laura(AT)yogaonesandiego(DOT)com

by Laura McCorry

As a new yoga teacher, I was in love with everything yoga. I wanted to soak it all in and learn as much as I possibly could so that when my training was over, I could go out into the world and help people move and feel better in their bodies.

I diligently memorized all the Sanskrit names and their English translations. I practiced saying both names whenever I taught a class (and I’m a bit embarrassed to think how many Sanskrit names I’ve now forgotten). But there was one pose, one name, for which I always used the Sanskrit: savasana.

After yoga and namaste, it’s probably the most-recognized Sanskrit word, so you can get away with not saying its translation. I’ve used “final relaxation” to explain savasana in many classes. But here are the words I’ve avoided saying for so many years:

Corpse Pose.

I was reminded of the proper translation this week. I had just finished leading a restorative yoga class and everyone in the room was lying down on their mats, not moving. This is the most relaxing part of yoga, the culmination of the previous hour and the time when the body receives the greatest benefit from the practice.

And I remembered that savasana meant corpse pose and I felt a chill go up my spine to see a room full of people, essentially “practicing” death. In that moment, I realized how much easier it was for me to be the teacher, to sit on my mat and stay “awake” so I could guide them out of savasana when the time was right.

My level of comfort with death ranges from “not very” to “nope, this is not even a little bit okay.” And I know I’m not alone. Our culture pushes death outside the realm of public discourse. We cover it up in medical jargon and leave death in the hands of hospice and the funeral home – anything to create some distance between us, the living, and the-thing-we-fear-above-all- fears.

So there’s something profoundly radical about the practice of yoga ending each session with the practice of death.

It flies in the face of popular culture which would rather pay attention to the youngest, newest, brightest thing under the sun. Which helps explain why savasana at some of the trendier, more corporate-feeling yoga studios can be so short – sometimes no more than two minutes.

How long savasana should last is a matter of debate in the yoga world, but the goal is long enough for you (your essence/spirit/soul) to surrender you (the body/mind). To truly practice corpse pose, you must recognize your Self as separate from your body. This acknowledgement can take years to manifest because we are very attached to our bodies in both a literal and psychological sense.

One of yoga’s primary tenets is the yama of non-attachment, aparigraha. It is natural for us to cling to things, to hold on tight to the people we love and the experiences of our body. But yoga teaches that You are not your body. In order to be free, to experience samadhi, or union with the divine, you must let go. Surrender. And yes, even practice death.

I believe that fear and discomfort can only ever hold us back from the fullness of life. We are meant to be alive. We are meant to fully enjoy this beautiful world and to live abundantly. I hope that over time, this practice of yoga continues to mold me, body, mind and spirit until I can one day acknowledge death without fear. Until the practices of living and dying can peacefully coexist that I might move with greater ease through this experience of life. And I wish the same for you.

**This post was partly inspired by Contributing Writer, Monique Minahan’s piece When I’m Gone Please Don’t Have a Funeral on Huffington Post. Thank you Monique for always writing from your heart!

Laura McCorry
Contributing Writer

Yoga and Laura had an on-again-off-again relationship from 2004 until 2009 when they decided to move in together and there’s been no looking back since. Passionate about both yoga and writing, Laura loves to introduce others to the joys and benefits of yoga and healthy living.

Contact: laura@yogaonesandiego.com

by Laura McCorry

What does it mean to practice yoga when your physical practice is greatly diminished or taken away entirely from illness or injury? 

Yoga grew out of a tradition that includes eight limbs (or tenets) for a complete practice. Asana, or the physical postures of yoga, is just one of those eight limbs. The others show up during yoga practice as well and contain the philosophical groundwork of the ancient practice. (You can do your own search to learn more or come to our upcoming 8 Limbs for a Whole Being workshop on May 3rd.)

I’ve experienced long withdrawals from my physical practice due to long-term injury and more recently, a period of several weeks wherein I’ve caught one virus after another. Neither condition is any fun because you’d much rather be well and able to move your body freely.

So what does it mean to be a yogi who cannot practice asana?

I started out feeling very sorry for myself and disconnected from most forms of yoga displayed on the internet. I didn’t want to see photos of handstands on the beach or “inspirational” videos of complicated pose transitions. But this is the showy side of yoga and if you dig deeper, there’s so much more.

Physical limitations give you many opportunities to practice non-attachment, or aparigraha. You must let go of what you used to be able to do. You learn to guard your heart against jealousy when others do what you cannot. There is always a choice in how and whether you respond to any given circumstance. Non-attachment means letting go of feeling bitter and lost and broken.

Yoga becomes a more internal experience. During asana practice, teachers often tell you to listen to your body. Without asana, you must listen to your state of mind. (tweet that) The lessons learned on your mat become even more important when you cannot use the gross tool of your body to process them. The mind is slipperier and harder to control.

I found new ways to measure my yoga practice. I could no longer count the number of sun salutations I did in class, but I could ask myself if I spent some time sitting in silence. Did I make the most loving decisions I could make? How long was I able to forget about myself while being present for another? Sometimes yoga meant doing something just because it brought joy into the world.

If you really practice yoga outside the studio and off your mat, you realize that you always have your breath. I learned to make time just to breathe consciously. This was my practice – to be aware of my breath moving in and out of the body, sustaining my life. To allow myself to be carried away by the sensation of breath until the mind gives up listing its grievances and to-do lists. Then you move beyond the awareness of breathing and for an unknowable space of time, you simply are. This is the good stuff. This is samadhi, or oneness with the universe, that all yoga practice seeks to achieve.

Asana is wonderful. It can help transform both body and mind. But it’s not the only path. If you must take a break from asana, do not mourn it for too long. The real work of becoming who you are meant to be is internal and the other limbs of yoga can reveal the process. Stay connected to yourself and to the experience of each moment. This is how yoga moves with you and carries you through times of adversity.

Laura McCorry
Contributing Writer

Yoga and Laura had an on-again-off-again relationship from 2004 until 2009 when they decided to move in together and there’s been no looking back since. Passionate about both yoga and writing, Laura loves to introduce others to the joys and benefits of yoga and healthy living.

Contact: laura@yogaonesandiego.com