Ritual Mantra

When stay at home protocols went into effect for many in the US in mid-March, I suspect many of us experienced major adjustments related to our lifestyles. As a full-time student taking classes on two campuses, a daily studio yoga practice, and then working in my community obligations/events/interests and board service I frequently ate two of my three meals in my car, rarely showered at home, and spent many hours scheduling with Vaimo who would be available to let the dogs out on any given day. I’m going to leave that sentence as a run-on, because that was how my life’s pace felt. Save for the 10 minute daily meditation practice and the approximately one hour of calm I found on my yoga mat everyday, the rest of my life was at the pace of someone spending more time in their car than anywhere else. It’s amazing really how adaptable we are as humans even when navigating and establishing new routines we may not have actively chosen. Those days feel so long ago, though in the course of a lifetime were our recent past.

Even though much has changed, I have found reflecting on my anchors have been important to help me navigate the change. Reflecting looks like checking in with myself about what is working, what keeps me grounded, what fills my spirit. While anchors are steadying, our relationship to our anchors shift and change with time and new knowledge. I want to spend some time thinking about my yoga anchor not only as a means to explore my shifting relationship and some reflections on my practice, but also as an example of how social justice principles can be an important part of one's ritual interests. 

In the fall semester of 2017 I prepared myself for a year of writing and research. Past KCF had just earned the one union-contractually-obligated sabbatical after earning tenure at a regional university in Northwest Minnesota. Vaimo and I had moved to the ChicFinn Cottage in rural Erhard in February of that same year, not having to go to campus for a full year and instead getting used to being at home by myself in my new setting of the rural lakeside retreat was a great training ground for these times. Though of course I didn’t know that at the time. In 2017, most of us could leave the house whenever we wanted without risk of contracting a deadly plague. And yet, the challenge for me at that time was to learn how to be alone, with my thoughts, in the country, with the trees that used to frighten me. I know, I know, silly. But they did.

A week before my birthday in November, I started a trial at the local hot yoga studio - local to me is a 25 minute drive into town. I had intended to get there earlier, though when I finally arrived, I was exactly right on time. I took as many classes as I could on my try it out 10-day pass and quickly signed up to be a member of the studio, granting me access to as many classes as I wanted to attend, whenever they were offered on the schedule. Rain or shine you could find me sweating in the glorious heat of the hot studio. I felt strong in a new way, mentally and physically. I found a place to explore the practice of yoga postures in ways I had not yet before. It was magical.

And then, as I started getting deeper into my postural practice of yoga, living for the routine, and the heat, and the awe of getting my body into places it had not been in a long time, I started noticing parts of myself I did not expect to see. My stubborn self would curse under my breath at the people in “my spot” when I didn’t manage to leave my house early enough. My spiteful self would mutter annoyed comments at the person not following along to the instructor’s cues as if their activities on their mat affected me at all. My jealous self would not only enviously observe other bodies moving on their mats in ways I couldn’t (hello side crow and eight angle) I would berate myself for not being able to do arm balances like other people. The socialized woman in me would sometimes turn to criticizing my body on my mat, wishing my arm looked more like someone else’s instead of being grateful for how my arms serve me. And just like the serendipity of beginning my studio practice when I needed it the most, so too did the rise of amazing decolonial yoga racial justice perspectives enter my radar. South Asian women yoga practitioners were raising critique and concerns about the way the Western practices disconnected from these specifically cultured roots.

I think something was itching at me from the beginning, this feeling of being the only Chicana in a room of white women. Though, it’s hard to always pinpoint exactly what parts of white supremacy impacts one the most at any given time. In sharing about my new practice, a Black woman friend confided in me over drinks that she finds she cannot rest (truly relax) in Shavasana in a room full of white women. Sometimes, the conversations I would overhear in the lobby of the studio did not align with my values. The overwhelming whiteness of an experience of a practice from South Asia began gnawing at my spirit. And I wondered in what ways had this colored my experience I was having on my mat with myself and in relation to others. I loved going to the studio for the extrovert energy of it all - I am inclined to almost always choose a group over doing something by myself. Even activities you can choose to do by yourself feel much more fun to me with friends and even strangers - it’s how, in my single days and even my partnered ones, you’d find me at a bar drinking and reading a book soaking up the buzz of the people around me. Or taking myself on a date to the movie theatre when friends couldn’t join me. Just being around other people brings me much needed recharge. Except, I was finding in the studio there was something missing from my usual buzz.

I think I found myself in this place because of the singular focus on the postural aspect of yoga in the studio setting to which I had access. Yoga has a spiritual lineage, and all my studio practice was providing me at the time was a chance to work on moving my body. As soon as I began learning more about yoga in the West, and spending more purposeful time with the roots and larger version of yoga as a holistic practice I began to find more peace with my practice and those negative comments to myself and others from my mat washed away. I hungered for a deeper connection to my practice, to teachers more openly engaging with the themes arising from Yoga is Dead Podcast and critically reflecting on cultural appropriation as a means to explore how to be in better relationship to a practice linked to cultures from where many of us in the room did not directly descend. There was something deeper here I expected to be able to explore with others, but the community of folks I had access to were not centering this work externally.

Given my reliance on yoga for my mind and spirit, these pandemic times have actually given me the gift of time and space I needed to develop a healthy and tailored home practice. It is one of the silver linings of the pandemic. I’ve been trying to find more ways to be grateful for these kinds of opportunities. I had to figure out how to make it to my mat without the accountability of a monthly membership urging me to get my money’s worth. Developing a home practice has meant exploring new accountability methods - including tweeting to an internet friend about how our practice is going. It’s meant changing expectations about exactly what will happen on my mat when I show up, and instead focusing on honoring myself for making it. It’s meant being the teacher I deserve, one who chooses not to say namaste at the end of practice because Desi yoga practitioners have criticized Western yoga practices that do this as cultural appropriation because of the misuse of how it's shared as a greeting at the end of class. It’s meant exploring the other limbs of yoga and really engaging with a different means of coming to my practice. By clearing away the noise of the extroverted buzz of the studio, I have been able to connect to my practice in a meaningful and important way beyond moving my body into cool shapes.

In conversations with well-meaning white folks about social justice work I often receive questions like, “How can I know if I’m participating in something harmful, or being racist?” And I like to respond with, how about instead we assume we likely already are. When we start here as a baseline, then we can work to figure out how to be less complicit in the oppression of others. Every single extra curricular activity we enjoy provides us with opportunities to reflect on what ways it challenges or upholds white supremacy. It turns out yoga is an amazing body/mind practice, way of being, and teacher. It's recently taught me that no matter how you’re engaging with an activity there is always more than just what you see on the surface. How many of the white folks attending my local studio felt unnerved by the singular focus on moving our bodies and the separation of the spiritual practice of yoga in our shared space together? Were they able to fully rest in Shavasana, letting their guard down without second thought of where they were and with whom?

So many white folks keep wondering aloud in friend groups about how to begin this work of social justice? Might I suggest you begin where the interests lie? I promise you if you peel back the curtain and begin to ask some simple questions - who has access, how has this been made, where did it come from - the web of white supremacy will soon be revealed and you too can follow the lead of other Black, Indigenous and women of color doing the labor to make the exposure more clear than you might have ever once considered. I invite you to consider what your relationship is to the activities that bring you meaning in your life. Wouldn’t it be so great, if the external conditions that shape how we gather could mean we could all really rest peacefully in Shavasana? I know, I want a world to return to where that’s a reality and not just a dream.
 

What I’m Reading

Sometimes you just need to laugh and find joy and wow, does Wow, No Thank You by Samantha Irby fulfill that for me. I’ve been a fan of Irby’s work since her first essay collection and have listened to both of her previous books. That’s a super fun way to find yourself laughing out loud wherever you’re listening. Since I used to do the majority of my listening in my car and I barely hit the road these days, I am savoring a humorous essay of hers by reading the paperback book I recently added to my collection. I love really sitting with her reflections as a Black, queer woman in her 40s. Her cultural references strike me, as a 38-year-old, deep in my nostalgic feels. She’s both a hilarious siren pointing to her past and present to signal me forward into my 40s future. It’s been the perfect lake-side read for my Minnesota July which has found me out on my loungers listening to the breeze in the trees and the loons in the lake many of this month’s days.

Speaking of Listening

Instead of highlighting another book, I’d like to strongly recommend this incredible podcast produced by Crooked Media and hosted by Cherokee Nation citizen, Rebecca Nagle called This Land. In late June the Supreme Court made a historic ruling that upheld the boundaries of five tribal lands in Eastern Oklahoma as belong to the five Native nations as the US originally promised to Indigenous peoples after the US forcibly removed them from their ancestral homelands. The podcast provides an incredible historical overview of the relationship between the state of Oklahoma and the state and federal willful disregard for the treaty rights of five tribes. Additionally, the podcast deftly weaves contemporary experiences based on the state’s and federal government’s policies that have worked against the interests of these Eastern Oklahoma tribes to support white settlers and provides a great framework for understanding Native sovereignty. The podcast is an educational gift. 

What I’m Watching

My youngest sister (Hermanita) came to visit us for a full month. I lured her with cheese and gluten and the promise of a Minnesota lakeside summer pandemic respite. It’s been the best month of 2020 for me so far. As we were planning for what we’ve been lovingly calling Summer Camp, I asked if we could watch Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA) together. Many friends had shared with me I would be interested in the show, and given Hermanita and our other Hermana grew up watching the show and both recently rewatched it when it hit Netflix, I thought I too should give it a try. This show gives me hope about our younger generations because it is such a complex blend of care work, challenging oppression, working together, and grappling with war/violence. It’s an animated series with so much to love about the main characters with many lessons for us in our current moment. I’m currently mid-way through Book Two and am reflecting a lot on how power shapes and corrupts relationships between people. What we often think of as freedom ends up being pretty cages that are more dystopic than utopic. This “kid’s show” is incredibly complex and an artfully crafted story with complex characters. We can all be villains sometimes and the fact that the villains are humanized and complex (hello Dragon of the West anyone?) provides much to reckon with as viewers. There are so many powerful ways to read the show, I imagine I will be revisiting it over and over again after I make it through the current journey of the fresh watch of the show.

Artist Offerings

• As someone who holds deep reverence to office supplies and other artistic materials this review of a new book by Caroline Weaver all about pencils strikes my fancy.
• This profile on the late Ruth Asawa has me deep in my feels about the nature of legacy and whose art is or is not uplifted and why.
• Related, this article by a POC-led, Minnesota news site by and for immigrants and refugees provides a fascinating look at archival strategies, collections and art/craft of Hmong paj ntaub (story cloth) along with a preview of a book coming out of this project.
• This portrait project by Delphine Diallo honoring the stories, experiences and lives of LGBTQ+ people over 50 inspires
• This creative writing and art piece word find about Being Asian American During this Pandemic by Sun Yung Shin is worth your attention.

Creative Ritual

The last two weeks have been a burst of unexpected creative output. I planned on taking all of July “off” to rest and enjoy the Minnesota summer. In June I was frustrated with myself for feeling like I couldn’t get anything done I wanted to get done and so, this was my plan. By simply clearly all of my expectations about what I hoped to accomplish I was able to get my studio to a place where I can create in it, and I put paint to wood for a new series of work I’m excited to continue through the next few months. I picked up the print edition I ran of my goddess woodcut. Click through the gallery on my website to the print titled Femme Legacy to see it, I have a small edition available for purchase. I created a plan for some professional development opportunities for myself, and received a rejection from a grant I applied for earlier this year. I am looking for opportunities to say yes to that help support my creative practice and bring me joy, as such I applied to become a Passion Planner ambassador. Cross your fingers for me! I'm working on a couple of other grants due at the beginning of next month for a couple of different project and am riding the high of the Leo season's productive push for me!

Questions to Ponder

What anchors you in these times?
How might your interests serve as a starting point for deeper reflection on matters of diversity, equity, and inclusion?
How are you changing?
How are you choosing gratitude for our current moment as a practice of abundance mindset?

Thanks for journeying with me. I hope, as always, that you take what you need and leave the rest for someone else, or for another time. 

-KCF