i read in my day-by-day calendar, insights from the dalai lama:

only human beings can judge and reason; we understand consequences and think in the long term. it is also true that human beings can develop infinite love, whereas to the best of our knowledge animals can have only limited forms of affection and love. however, when humans become angry, all of this potential is lost. no enemy armed with mere weapons can undo these qualities, but anger can. it is the destroyer.

i’ve lately been pondering my voice and presence in a yoga class. the type of yoga i learned originally, sri swami satchidananda’s integral yoga, teaches a particular language, sequencing, and orientation for students in the class. the vinyasa style of yoga, derived from modern-day ashtanga yoga, also arranges the class (ashtanga more than vinyasa, in this case) in a particular way.

to be sure, most forms of hatha yoga have a style of teaching rooted in similar language (inhale/exhale), sequencing (standing poses before inverted poses), and orientation to what you are actually doing in the room (pray to the divine, or just notice your muscles). today what’s interesting to me is whether or how that approach gets stale if you don’t challenge yourself to renew your approach occasionally.

i wonder what other teachers and students think about the kinds of words they want to say or hear. it’s easy to be rote; you can say the same thing about the same pose every time. on the other hand, the ways of describing the body in space and time are endless — and experimenting too much maddens.

teachers: do you find yourself wanting to repeat yourself sometimes, or are you always thinking of new ways to describe the class experience? students: do you want to hear the same thing week to week, perhaps in order to learn the poses better, or do you like the language fresh and changing each time you come to class?

i think of this as another description for my job.

there was a nice quote sold on blank note cards a few years ago; i’ve seen it around a lot, so you may have also already seen it. it was an all white, sqare card that read:

peace.

it does not mean to be in a place

where there is no noise, trouble

or hard work. it means to be in

the midst of those things and still

be calm in your heart

.

the author is unknown. i personally would choose the word “still” over “calm,” but i enjoy her/his word choice. from dictionary.com, this etymology of the word:

[Origin: 1350–1400; (n., adj.) ME calm(e) < It calma (n.), calmo (adj.) < LL cauma summer heat (with l perh. from L calére to be hot) < Gk kaûma (s. kaumat-) burning heat; akin to kaíein to burn (see caustic); (v.) ME calmen < It calmare, deriv. of the n.]

so the sensation of calm points to the sensation of burning. if we were to take this unknown author’s description, peace, then, is equivalent to the sensation of burning in the heart.