What Does "Community Gift" Mean?

Let’s face it: we cannot monetize what is most valuable to us. Capitalism has managed to monetize many of our material needs, like water, clean air, and land. Still, our most essential needs cannot be quantified or measured in dollars. Loving relationships, spiritual teachings, a beautiful summer day, a conversation with a friend, life itself….. all are priceless.

The practice of yoga used to consist of a sacred relationship between a teacher and student, involving not only asanas, but a whole lifestyle and philosophy. In the USA, yoga has become a fitness activity for the middle class. If you have the money and time you can go to class everyday, or hire a private teacher/personal trainer to come to your house and make you work out. If you have several thousand dollars, you can become a yoga teacher in a matter of months, or even weeks. That is, yoga has become a commodity.

Meanwhile I consciously strive to restore yoga to its sacred roots, while making it accessible to the widest possible population. After all there are no shortcuts to enlightenment and liberation, the ultimate goals of yoga.  The well yoga draws from has no bottom, and I am deeply indebted to BKS Iyengar, Geeta Iyengar, Prashant Iyengar, and the senior teachers here in the USA for their many decades of dedicated practice and teaching. What they have generously given me, I pass on to my students and my community.

I do not teach yoga as a hobby. Yoga teaching is my profession and my spiritual calling. Practicing since 1996, traveling every 2-3 years to India, and studying on a never-ending basis with the best teachers in the known universe, I feel I have something to share. For the first 12 years of my teaching path, I charged fees like other teachers in the USA. However, after the 2008 recession hit, many of my students lost the ability to keep paying for classes. I increasingly welcomed alternative forms of payment, and received quarts of soup, garden vegetables, massages, artwork, and much more.

I noticed that as we became more flexible and creative about payment, our community became stronger and more diverse. I wondered about the many friends and strangers who would come to a class given half a chance, if cost were not a factor. I thought about places of worship and spiritual centers that run strictly on donations, and wondered if a yoga school could do the same.

My move to Detroit was largely motivated by a desire to test this new model. Because my living expenses are relatively low, I can teach, practice and study, while taking on other community projects. Is it working? Yes and no. With a few classes, I earn about as much money as I did when I taught on a fee basis. Other classes may not even cover gas money for a day. (It’s a good thing I bicycle!) However, we are all on a learning curve as we wean ourselves from capitalism. I’m certainly not giving up on the Community Gift way of life.

So what does this all mean?

A Community Gift is NOT:

• A Freebie

•  A hobby I am sharing with you

•  A gesture of charity

A Community Gift IS:

• Beyond measurement, not quantifiable

• Meant to be passed on: having received, pass it forward in some way

• A free-will, heart donation that will be determined by you

• A creative, spiritual exchange I am making with you

• Sustaining my practice so I can continue to teach

What I want from my students:

• Dedication and some level of commitment. Even if a financial commitment is not required, make a spiritual commitment to the practice. Come to class regularly and practice a few poses on your own at home.

• Pass on the merits you have gained from the study of yoga. If yoga has given you a quiet mind, do a fovor for a stressed-out friend.

• Spread the love and tell others how yoga is benefiting you. Bring a friend to class.

• Support other Iyengar Yoga teachers in the community and go to their classes. My teachings come from a tradition with roots in India and the Iyengar family. Other Iyengar teachers share this lineage, and the profound, transformative lessons they have gained.

• Recognition that your teachers, even if they have chosen a spiritual path, also have material needs, like housing and food. Cash helps!

Learn more about gift culture and sacred economics here.

May we all learn together as we develop healing paths.

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.