I didn’t grow up with a name for God. My father was raised Muslim, and my mother was raised Roman Catholic. When I was born, the agreement within the family was that I would be raised in neither tradition, but would have the freedom to choose my own path later in life. I did actually go to church with my Mom at one point in my life – in my pre-teen or early teen years, I think. I also went to yoga classes with my Mom back then. And then, for some reason beyond recollection, I stopped both. At that time, yoga as I knew it was mostly about exercise and relaxation. I can’t say that I thought much about religion or spirituality until about twenty years later, when I hit a particularly tumultuous patch in my life.
It was then, in the midst of crisis, that I found my way back to yoga and, eventually, yoga teacher training. In doing so, I unexpectedly found my way back to questions about spirit and God. I will be forever grateful to that time in my life when the world as I knew it fell apart. It was very difficult to go through, but I emerged a different person. I emerged a person with faith.
During yoga teacher training, we dove into the mysteries of body, mind and spirit. My teacher, Ivy Xie-McIsaac, used the Bhagavad Gita as our foundational text. Mostly, we talked about the soul… about each individual soul as a spark of the One Divine Light that permeates, creates, sustains, and transforms all things… about the difference between the body/mind which are ever-changing and temporary and the spirit which is untouched and eternal… We talked about the different paths of yoga… the different means of coming to know and experience the soul: the path of action or service (karma yoga), the path of devotion (bhakti yoga), the path of knowledge (jñana yoga), the path of meditation (raja yoga – note that hatha yoga is preparation for this path). I learned that coming to know one’s own spirit or soul is the same as coming to know God; and that it is possible, through a regular, commited yoga practice, to know God, to have a personal and direct experience of God, to find true Love, Peace, and Freedom from suffering. This is different from religion, where someone tells you what to believe, and whom to believe in. Yoga is about you finding God for yourself.
The Bhagavad Gita presents these teachings in the form of a dialogue between Arjuna, a young warrior reluctantly facing battle, and Krishna, his charioteer and advisor. Krishna, we learn, is an incarnation of God. And Arjuna is not much different than us, perplexed by the decisions we are forced to make as we move through life. As they look upon the battlefield together, Arjuna seeks Krishna’s advice, and Krishna shows the way forward.
Reading the Gita in the months of my training, I soon found myself talking to Krishna. Especially during the long car drives between Hull and Kanata, I told Krishna my troubles, just as Arjuna did thousands of years ago in ancient India. It was as if Krishna were in the passenger seat, listening to me. I did not feel alone anymore. And sometimes, I really felt as if he were responding to me. I could feel some answers, some clarity dawning.
I do not mean to say that “Krishna” is God. As the Rig Veda states,
Truth is one; sages call it by various names.
But the Bhagavad Gita gave me a language, a name, that I could use to start relating to God. And my yoga training gave me a small community within which to explore this budding relationship.
Soon after reading the Gita, I read The Play of God by Vanamali (about Krishna’s life from childhood to passing), and then the Ramayana (about the life of Rama, an earlier incarnation of God). These books, together with the guidance of my teachers and the unfolding of my life, impressed upon me the following lessons:
- The gifts of yoga are great. And “great” is an understatement! I just can’t find another word at the moment!
- The gifts of our troubles are great – or they can be, if we stop resisting them and open ourselves to the lessons they bear.
- There is a God, and God manifests in everything, everywhere, at every moment. God is pulling all the strings, orchestrating a magnificent play in which we all take different roles – hero, villain – in order to bring each other to the point, the apex, where we can finally break down our walls, break through our limited understandings, and glimpse Truth/God. Can we see God in the one who hurts us? Can we see God in the one who loves us? Can we see God in ourselves? God is in all of these characters, supporting us, pushing us, guiding us, calling upon us to rise up…
- All the seeming troubles and trouble-makers we face are God in disguise, challenging us to grow in a new way, like a Gardener pruning her beloved tree. We feel the cuts, and we hurt – but we will heal and grow and thrive, thanks to the Gardener’s touch. Let’s keep turning and growing towards the Light, as the flowers and trees do so naturally.
- All is well, at every moment, past, present, and future. Everything that happens is for our growth; let’s rise to the challenge. Nothing is ever truly lost. No one is ever truly lost – not even in death. We are One: One Soul, One Love, One Life being breathed into different bodies, different personalities, as part of some mysterious play or plan.
Finally, I will share with you one of my favourite verses from the Gita (9.26). It struck me the first time I read it. This is Krishna, speaking not just as friend but as God, to Arjuna:
Whatever I am offered in devotion with a pure heart – a leaf, a flower, fruit or water – I accept with joy. Whatever you do, make it an offering to me.
It can be life-saving to turn to a higher power in times of need. It is equally transformative to maintain this connection in times of ease. How can we do this? Through devotion and service – to our family, friends, and community. Our offerings do not have to be elaborate or rich or great. Even a simple gesture, as small and ordinary as a leaf, makes a worthy offering that feeds and satisfies the Soul. When I chose the name “Sage Leaf Yoga,” I had this verse in mind…
This verse is partly what motivates me to teach yoga and to write this blog. Knowing that my offerings can be small, modest, imperfect – an hour-long class with a handful of people – an article about yoga – a passing smile – a meal for my family. I am not reaching thousands. I am not creating policies or programs that affect the masses. But even this small offering is something Good because it is made “in devotion.”
We cannot all do great things. But we can do small things with great love.
– Mother Teresa
Beautifully writes Zofia.
Thank you, Annie!