It Is Time

 

(when asked why it's necessary to have a yoga class just for women of color....)

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

those back pages of the alternative weekly

filled with lisitings of asian call girls

release them from the sealed boxes of the classified ads

these groins we held hard

knees squeezed together to protect us

from the men we were supposed to trust

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

forced onto boats by traders or our own desperation

shackles on wrists and ankles across oceans

crowded boats of refugees unable to find safe harbor

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

lips sealed tight, ashamed of our accents

taught to be polite and submissive

sweaty armpits and hairy legs we were taught to hide

post-traumatic heart centers and tightened lungs

tawny brown, olive sallow, and deep mahogany skin

that marked us as inferior

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

our minds grown rigid from

negotiating the dissonance of our beautiful bodies

in a world that either discarded us

or put us in gilded cages like exotic birds

open the grave of sarah baartman

and bring her home to south africa

release her from the world’s fair

where she was mocked as the hottentot venus

break open the glass case in paris

where her skeleton, genitals, and brain were displayed

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

throw open the doors and windows of nail salons and dry cleaners

filled with the smog of neurotoxins

as dainty yellow hands caress yours

unlock the doors of sweatshops overseas

where brown sisters toil to feed their children and grandchildren

throw open the curtains on brothels here and everywhere

southeast asian sex tours

trafficked sisters drugged and enslaved

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

open your throat and bellow

open your mind and decolonize yourself

open your groins and shed your shame

open your heart and pour out your joy and suffering

open your belly and fill it with breath

it is time to open up what has too long been closed

1 may 2013

pkh

2013 Statement of Purpose

Arriving in a new time and place, here is my updated, hope-to-be annual Statement of Purpose. I am consciously renouncing language that evokes empire, militarism, and religious oppression, so I choose to refrain from calling this a “mission statement.” I hope this statement will encourage others to contemplate and write out their own purpose statements. Please share, so that we can inspire each other, and compassionately hold each other accountable.

2013 Statement of Purpose:

I am here on the planet, and in this city, to heal myself on every level, so that I can be a healing presence for others. I am here to participate in the healing of my ancestors, my progeny, and members of my communities, as well as communities themselves. I am here to be student, teacher, and collaborator in the process of healing.

In order to fulfill this purpose, my goals are:

1.     To creatively and relentlessly resist and speak out against oppressive structures, while focusing primarily on building self-determined communities. I commit to spending 90% of my time and energy on building healthy communities free from exploitation and oppression, and 10% of my time and energy on creative resistance.

2.     To live increasingly independent of governments, societies and livelihoods based on exploitation and oppression of the earth and its people, especially people of color.

3.     To live increasingly in voluntary simplicity, reducing personal possessions and use of earthly resources, while cultivating a sense of inner abundance.

4.     To cultivate clarity of consciousness and continually increase my capacity for loving kindness through inner work including yoga, meditation, and the arts.

5.     To live cooperatively with people of color and allies committed to healing themselves and their communities, sharing resources, inspiration, and healing practices. These resources may include time, energy, space, food, vehicles, skills, information, and life experience.

6.     To strengthen cooperative communities by practicing clear, compassionate communication through deep listening and conversation, and frameworks such as Nonviolent Communication, Circle work, Clearness Committees, and more.

7.     To embrace celibacy as a spiritual path. Instead of partnership and sexual relations, I choose to channel my energy toward healing in the wider community. Meanwhile, I actively support other expressions of non-heteronormative sexuality.

 

8.     To recognize and maximize my gifts and the gifts of others, directing them toward uplifting community.  I commit to freely sharing my gifts, and to encourage others to do the same, trusting that giving and receiving are the basis of healthy community.

9.     While working for the healing of the wider community, to be the best mother I am capable of being, the best friend I am capable of being, the best neighbor, housemate, student, teacher, mentor, etc. I am capable of being. I understand that as inner work provides the foundation for outer work, my personal relationships provide the foundation for relating to the wider community.

10.  To place learning as a higher priority than teaching, and to continually be open to new lessons, and the challenge of new experiences and new perspectives. I commit to honoring the voice of truth within me, and speaking from that voice, while humbly recognizing that truth is multi-faceted. I commit to regarding everyone I encounter as my teacher.

Click Here to See What a Detroit Slowdown Looks Like

MOTOWN SLOWDOWN

DETROIT SLOWDOWN

I pour down the ramp

thick as crystallized honey

collected from local hives

line up and hold steady

slow as michigan spring

slow as bureaucracy

slow as dreamless sleep

tens of thousands of cars on my ass

right foot light pulse on the gas

left foot steady on the clutch

all I can see is open road

ultimate american dream in motor city

why my parents left korea

the promise of freedom

fuck jack kerouac

and his white male privilege

he is not on the road with me

the blank canvas of road is mine and my ancestors

I slow down for my grandparents

who converted to christianity

because the american missionaries

were the only alternative

to japanese rule

for my mother’s mother

I choose to slow down

because she was not given the choice

betrothed in childhood to a stranger

bearing daughter after daughter

after daughter after daughter

after daughter

weeping after each birth

until the necessary son was born

my mother’s mother

who held me in her womb

as the ovum carrying my dna

formed inside my own mother

I slow down for my mother

capable of flying but forced to walk

behind my father per confucian custom

I slow down for my mother

who tamed her anger

by learning to love jesus

and fled early to the kingdom of heaven

unable to find it on earth

I slow down for my father

who never dared to slow down

who worked himself into an early death as well

who stifled his protest for so long

his brilliant mind atrophied

until he could no longer speak

I slow down for my adopted city of detroit

city of radical self-governance

determined to chart her own course

never mind the attempted corporate takeover

and the manufactured emergency

instead of rushing headlong into privatization

we meet outrage with outrage

turn the other cheek in first gear

with blinking hazards

I slow down for my suburban sisters and bros

pounding on my tail

because if there were no prisons

we would realize we are all in chains

because harriet tubman would’ve freed a thousand more

“if only they knew they were slaves”

I slow down for their gas guzzling sierras and expeditions

I slow down to honor vincent chin

who looked japanese enough

to be beaten to death by a white mob

for stealing american jobs

as a blonde sister leans out of her white suburban to shout

BUY AMERICAN

because I am an asian woman driving a volkswagen

her voice a blaring bullhorn on repeat

BUY AMERICAN BUY AMERICAN

BUY BUY BUY

AMERICANCANCAN

as if that would fix everything

I slow down to piss you off

if that’s what it takes to wake you up

I slow down to make time to breathe

slow soft inhale

slow soft exhale

I slow down to wonder

what is next

DETROIT: 6 WORD POSTCARDS

39 cent blueberries

spontaneous houseful sharing

monday morning email

house concert

tonight!

circling strangers

pound drums

breathe together

crystal bowl

so resonant

it cracks

dumpster dived

calla lillies

organic lemons

dumpster chocolate

passed around

holy communion

urban sheer dark

cycling pothole patches

shattered glass

every curb

ride wide

loosen grip

on handlebars

and float

new moon

broken streetlights

brighter stars

FROM PUNE, INDIA TO DETROIT, MICHIGAN

 

I’ve been in Detroit for a week now, and it is all it’s cracked up to be. Like India, where I was living and studying for the past month, everything is in-your-face-real. While oppression and exploitation exist all over the planet, here in the USA, we can choose to live in the delusional state of “free-est nation in the world.” We can stay in our bubbles and pretend democracy works for everyone. In both Detroit and India, poverty and devastation slam us in the solar plexus every single day. In India, every well-to-do neighborhood is surrounded by a ring of slums that provide the labor to make upper class life possible. A walk of any distance brings you into contact with children living on the street and rag collectors going through trash piles, which no doubt includes your refuse.

Here in Detroit, we are flanked by vacant houses. You get used to the burnt out buildings, shattered glass. You pull up to a CVS at midday and a security guard inside waves you off—the store is closed for no apparent reason. Everyone is doing the Detroit hustle—scrambling for a few hours of paid work, doing a little of this or that. We don’t need much to get by. Couple hundred to rent a room, another hundred for food to share in your intentional community, gas money if you have a car….

The macro task of yoga study is to discern between purusha—the eternal infinite, and prakrti—everything else. The world is so much prakrti, crumbling, burning up, decaying, so much impermanence. As our Vipassana teacher, Goenkaji, reminds us: anicha, anicha, changing, changing. If we accept our own constant state of change, no other impermanence shocks us or upsets us. Detroit reminds us of our own mortality.

But in that space of impermanence, purusha emerges. If we recognize the sacredness of all creation, human-made and otherwise, from crumbling sidewalks to 100-year-old trees, instead of seeing death, we see transformation and new forms of life. As Grace Lee Boggs points out, you can look at a vacant lot and see devastation, or you can see possibility. You choose.

One thing I love about India is that in a tropical climate, the nature forces are so strong. That is, if my apartment building in India was abondoned by humans for a month, plants, rodents, insects and other forms of life, would overtake it completely. Nature consumes, then recreates.

Many spiritual teachers acknowledge that everything is imbued with spirit, so as the Packard plant in Detroit crumbles, stone spirits are released from shattered glass and crumbling brick. Rain and snow water spirits wash over it all, and wind spirits scatter it. I think this is why humans have always been attracted to ruins. They serve as altars of sorts, shrines of human effort, once again proving to be impermanent, fleeting manifestations of prakrti, revealing what remains: infinite and eternal purusha.

If we recognize purusha at the Packard plant, we can recognize it in each other. We see the endurance of the human spirit, and tap into that as a renewable, sustainable resource. We see the endurance of the earth itself, how she endlessly renews herself. We see creativity, manifested through ways of living, making art, and relating to each other, as expressions of purusha.

Here in Detroit, knee-deep in crumbling prakrti, I am recreating myself in community, opening myself to the wisdom and brilliance of purusha.

CLIENT, TOURIST, OR SHISYA?

 

When we come to India, having invested so much energy and expense, it’s easy to fall into our capitalist habits and expectations. That is, we want to Get Our Money’s Worth.

A spiritual practice with powerful physical effects, yoga has become commercially attractive. It’s cheaper and often more effective than physical therapy, chiropractics, or conventional medicine. It’s more thorough and enjoyable than a workout at the gym. Because many people and some medical insurance plans are willing to spend money on yoga, yoga teachers have the potential to make a living teaching and running centers. As a result, we have taken a spiritual path and imbued it with material expectations.

Not to begrudge our material needs. We all need a roof over our heads and a warm room, nourishment, and even better, community, education, and enrichment. However, we may be disserving yoga, or even abusing the art of practice, by expecting it to meet middle class standards of living. It may be that the application of yoga to our economic sphere leads to a corruption of the practice and a compromise of our soul needs. Not only that, but the relationship with our teacher can become compromised and problematic.

In the Iyengar Yoga world, we respectfully and affectionately refer to BKS Iyengar as “Guruji,” and bestow this same depth of respect to his children, Geetaji and Prashantji. A guru is a spiritual teacher, one who teaches you the art of living an integrated life on earth. “Guru” refers to the interplay between light and dark, as the guru dispels the darkness of ignorance, implying that this teacher shows us both the positive and the negative.

We see this most boldly in the teachings of Geetaji. Her standards are high and her temper is notorious, and along with her brilliant lessons, she sometimes berates her students ruthlessly. She brings out the most difficult lessons about ourselves in her classes. We can react by becoming defensive, or ignoring her feelings, or shutting ourselves down and running away, or becoming angry in return that she is wasting our time and being abusive.

But if we see Geeta as our guru, an extension of the role of BKS Iyengar, we shed our egos, allow our tamasic nature—which keeps us stuck in our old ways—to be broken down, release the urge to be defensive, and accept all that she gives us as necessary to our spiritual growth.

This is completely different from a commercial, consumeristic relationship, and is one reason I typically avoid giving private lessons. When someone pays my hourly rate as they would another highly trained professional or therapist, they often have an expectation that they will be served. Often they will seek out a private teacher as a substitute for practicing yoga on their own. They expect me to come up with the sequence, do all the set-ups, and run them through it. In this way, they become my client instead of a student. For this reason, I typically give private lessons only to students working on specific issues outside the scope of general classes who already are, or are committed to, beginning practice on their own. Even so, I usually limit the sessions to only one, with perhaps a follow-up.

Geetaji gets frustrated when she sees international students coming to RIMYI to be served, to be told what to do, to show off what they already know, and to have their egos reinforced. She wants us to take responsibility for our own learning, to not wait for her to repeat every last instruction, to meet her where she is instead of expecting her to meet us where we are, We need to come to RIMYI as sisyas—spiritual devotees, not as clients trying to get a good business deal, and not as yoga tourists.

Increasingly, I see my path as that of a yoga sadhu, a pilgrim. I have packed up my life into a stack of boxes occupying a corner of the living room in the yoga housing co-op I am moving out of. What I cannot fit into that corner will stay behind, at least for now. I am experimenting with how much I can give up, in order to more fully embody the yoga path.

I feel my particular task in the world of Iyengar Yoga is to bring the art and practice to populations who have not traditionally been given access, and offer Iyengar Yoga as a sacred art. As I journey to Detroit to join the “Urban Healing Revolution” in progress there, I wish to restore sacredness to the practice of Iyengar Yoga by teaching on a gift basis.

Let’s face it, the teachings from the Iyengars are priceless. We cannot put a dollar amount on it. By removing the teachings from the commercial realm, I hope to reinforce this art in the realm of the spiritual. I ask my community to support the Iyengars, their teachings, and my role as their student, by giving what they can to support me as a teacher. Their gifts, whether cash, time exchange, or barter of goods, will allow me to continue my study, meet my physical needs, and “pay for” the next student to receive the benefits they have received.

Let us open our hearts, minds, and bodies to the sacred gift of the teachings of the Iyengars. May we especially accept difficult lessons with grace and gratitude. May we as students support our local teachers in keeping the gift of the teachings circulating. May we teachers trust our communities to support us as we share the priceless lessons we have had the grace of receiving, for the benefit of our communities.