There are many truths of which I will only realize small bits. That’s okay. I can only do the best that I can. What I can do is work on them for as long as I shall live – I am not afraid of time. In this last year, I came across a passage that I can feel not just in my head but through my entire body, especially my spine and chest. It is from the Gospel of Thomas. The disciples say to Jesus, “Tell us how our end will be.”
Jesus replies, “Have you discovered, then, the beginning, that you look for the end? For where the beginning is, there will the end be.”
In a way, this utterance might seem easy to grasp intellectually. We could throw a time-tested cliché at it, one we accede to mentally. For example, everything travels in a circle, not a straight line, including life and death. Therefore, the distinctions between life and death lose their meaning because a circle is continuous. This means seeking the beginning is no different than seeking the end.
The problem is that this kind of mental gymnastics gives the sense of grasping the content of the utterance without fully experiencing its vastness. This happens when energy is put into words and the words are understood but the original energy is not fully felt. This is a strength and weakness of mental awareness. It can bring understanding but without the depth of realization.
I have been turning this utterance over and over through my awareness for quite some time. The utterer awes me and utterance stirs me deeply. I have been exploring its wisdom in smaller bits, for example, within my yoga practice. I find that my yoga practice of asana and pranayama (poses and breathing) allow me to experience truths through not just through the mind but also the body. Often I find the latter is more revealing. Seek the beginning…the poses before they begin, the energy that precedes…not the strain of completion. What is the energy before physical exertion? Is that energy continuous throughout the physical actions? If so, how? What is experienced at the end of a pose, upon its completion? What animating role does breath play? How about the experience of retention, that is, the experience between inhalation and exhalation AND after exhalation?
I have been teaching yoga to people living with all levels of trauma, loss, and disability for nearly nineteen years. I have been practicing with my own disability for twenty-five years. I don’t get to focus on the end of my poses (as there are so many that I cannot do AND my ‘completed’ poses look nothing like the traditional poses). The same holds true for my adaptive students. We have been focusing on the subtle beginning of poses, the subtle actions that lead to overt outward movement. We have also been working on the relaxation that occurs near the end of class. I can tell you that there is tremendous wonder and hope near the beginning and ending of poses and breath. I can see it in my students as they gain renewed strength to live through their difficult lives. This wonder and hope was enough that I started a non-profit Mind Body Solutions and dedicated my life to exploring and sharing mind-body consciousness with others.
There are other things that arise from my study of beginning and endings in yoga. I can tell you that life energy moves through us before we move IT. I can tell you relief is the beginning and end of every action. I can tell you that the same empty silence that exists at the end of exhalation is also what begins inhalation.
Then there are also some beautiful effects. I even more deeply love the innocence of children and the hopeful ‘space’ in people before they act. I can tell you that unity (not simply absence) is at the beginning and ending of everything we do. These are not things I can claim to know; but on a good day, I can feel them in small bits. There is one thing I can say I know with certainty: I am grateful for the existence of miraculous teachers.