Springtime beauty haiku.

Springtime beauty caught
me for a moment. Then I
went back to normal.

But I keep going
back to remember those blooms,
lifted pink balloons.

I float with them as
I remember their sweetness,
pink transportation.

The Beauty of Touch.

The beauty of touch is not manufactured in the brain. We can perceive and enjoy this beauty, but we do not make it. There is a beauty in touch that is as beautiful and awe-inspiring as anything could be, invisible yet tangible and life giving. I’m talking about the energy exchange between two living beings, in their bodies—we just don’t make this stuff up.

But we might take it for granted as a natural part of experience…

When I patted, scratched, and stroked Fritter’s soft fur I enjoyed him, I enjoyed myself, and I enjoyed the moment. My hands always felt so good patting Fritter. There was an emotional temperature change, an energy of love that was flowing freely—so beautiful. I had become so accustomed to the experience, that I don’t even know if I appreciated it, but I always enjoyed it. And I’ve come to realize that, for myself, this experience of enjoying someone face to face or hand to back is in itself a form of gratitude—a natural flow of thanks. By enjoying someone’s presence we are saying, “I am so grateful for you!” without saying those words out loud.

I was forced into a learning moment last week when Fritter, the friendly and affectionate bunny died.

I learned that his body was so important to me when he left it just after midnight on June 30, 2010. He came over to where I was for his last moments, and when he was gone I knew I wanted to sleep in the same room with him one more time—not that I slept much. But I did rest next to his body that night.

The next morning I reached out to move him, and my hands recoiled. I almost couldn’t to it. My hands weren’t finding the enjoyment they had known during those years of touching Fritter’s incredible living body. They were finding a dead body. The beautiful feeling was not being returned, because it was no longer coming from this body. I understood, but it was a difficult thing for my body to process. It was as if my hands had been suddenly blinded when I touched him in that state.

Fritter was so beautiful, so loving and so vast as perceived through my curious hands, always interested in tousling his softness.

Here he is with his good friend Fawn, who is still living with me.

Thank you, Fritter, for sharing your mystery with me!

Traditional Spiritual Lineage is not right for Me because I'm Female.

Just as my female body contains a metaphor for creating new life, so also does my existence in the realm of spiritual pursuits require a creative act.

A benefit of yoga in the marketplace is that there are plenty of women leading the way; we are used to seeing images of beautiful women in advertisements so there is an ongoing potential for commercial success for svelte females in yoga.

But I recoil in shame when I consider what is coming across to consumers: perhaps that yoga cultivates commercially acceptable beauty, or that yoga is for physical fitness. Could it be that yoga is here to help us get laid? Come on... When commercial yoga panders to our insecurities, just like any other product for sale, doesn't that cheapen the potential? Or doesn't that cheapen our estimation of what we, as yoga teachers or yoga businesses offer?

As I read and study about traditional yoga I find myself filtering and editing as I read to try to include myself in texts that were written for male seekers. And I've done a pretty good job, having pushed through countless hours of reading about men in yoga. And I love men in yoga... But when it comes to conceptualizing a vision of my yoga path, the words that were intended for male seekers from earlier generations do not always hit home for me as a female yogi practicing and living in today's world.

And I've heard that there are a handful of obscure examples of traditional yoga that honor women. But, I really haven't seen any that I can identify with.

We don't even have a tradition here in the States, what we have is a marketplace, and what this requires of us as consumers is personal responsibility. Just like it's time for us to take responsibility for the oil we use, it's also time for us to take responsibility for the quality of our hearts and minds.

Maybe it's me. Maybe I struggle with being a female yogi who is not always sure where she really fits in. Maybe I should try to be thin and beautiful and perfect. Maybe you should buy into my yoga because you love my body.

This is what bothers me.

Yoga is about a union between consciousness and form, or the "inner" and "outer" worlds. If popular yoga is too focused on physical feminine beauty, are we ever going to break through to an authentic experience of spiritual depth? Are we ever going to pursue beyond our obsession with physical form and youthful beauty? Right now our "yoga" in most places seems to be right in line with commercial norms.

Yoga tradition intersects with the modern marketplace. And I think that we enter fantasyland when we try to ignore that. Even when someone has learned from a traditional source, what a teacher brings to his or her classes is what they know. It is always their account of that tradition or lineage, so teachers are actually creating as they are teaching.

But, our yoga does inspire questions such as mine, and perhaps that's enough for now. And maybe yoga has arrived in the marketplace at this time to remind us that we are more than consumers. We are human beings with hearts and spirituality, and we can be responsible for ensuring that our world can remain inhabitable and joyful, as well as profitable.

*simul-posted at Elephant Journal*