Snowwhite

Snow White Yoga

Snowwhite

{Tada drastuh svarupe vasthanam}
Patanjali’s Sutra Chapter 1, verse 3
Then the SEER abides in it own NATURE
Surely, it’s meant to BE~

To ABIDE in our own SPLENDOR~
The mind must get real quiet;
it needs to uncover the truth
and go on a Cloud free Diet.

No need to grasp for light
For it is already here and there.
Let’s thin out the distorted clouds
Of ignorance and despair.

Let’s work with the muddled mind,
Accept that clouds are blocking,
Train to be more observant
Of thoughts that keep on talking.

Just like the sun up above
Our LIGHT never dims to slur.
It does get covered up.
And distortion may occur.

Dwarfs mine for diamonds
In the classic tale SNOW WHITE.
We mine for JOY
It’s our undivided RIGHT.

SNOW WHITE sings joyfully,
As she tidies up the cottage.
Birds and animals dance along
And MiIRROR her BLISSFUL wattage.

SNOW WHITE glistens KINDNESS,
and undisturbed PURENESS,
That exists at the core of her being
Her true SELF, that’s for sureness.

In yoga, we use our practice
To support the removal of clouds~
To ground into our inner brilliance
And shine out free from the shrouds.

“Just whistle while you work
And cheerfully together we can tidy up the place
So hum a merry tune
It won’t take long when there’s a song to help you set the pace “

Keep your ankles in line with your knees
And your knees in line with your hips.
Clasp your elbows behind your back
And rise up high on your toe-tips.
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Bend steady your knees.
Stay high up on tiptoes.
Whistle or hum a tune
While you work to hold this pose!

“And as you sweep the room
Imagine that the broom is someone that you love
And soon you’ll find you’re dancing to the tune
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When hearts are high the time will fly
So whistle while you work”

Clean the sand trap of cluttered thoughts
With camel pose in a chair.
Sit on the edge of your seat
Place your hands behind you with care.
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Lift the sides of your heart up
And the back of your heart high.
Pull your head of the arm bones back.
Soften both sides of your throat and sigh.

Sigh your throat back,
And LIFT YOUR HEART HIGH.
WHISTLE WHILE YOU WORK
And allow time to fly.

Place hands on your lap
Lift your head back over your heart
Ground your thighs and feet,
And Feel the clouds depart.

May we whistle while we work.
May we notice our inner states.
May our inner states be bright.
And lighten our outer updates.

May the sound that whistles tunes
from within our deep heart’s abyss
Ring loud and ring clear~
OUR OWN TRUE NATURE IS BLISS!

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  • Hi Barbie…It’s Me Ken!

    I have been working with Ken, this is true. I have found him to be a natural adept; I leave him seated, sometimes in the morning, I come back, he has not moved an inch – he is completely absorbed in the mantra. I asked him what his experience was like, and he just stared at me, said nothing: obviously it is beyond the ability to verbalize at the shtula level. Pure transcendence. I even at one point stuck a pin in his foot and held a BIC lighter to his head – he did not flinch. Incredible. He is an amazing meditator.

    Ken-Letter

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    Gratefully, I wake up every morning, breathing, heart beating and mind wide open. As I breathe into my heart I pray, “God, thank you for this day, thank you for this breath and thank you for this life.” I am passionate about living life through peace and love rather than through fear and hate. My…

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    horse

    The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

    “What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

    “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

    “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

    “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

    “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

    “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

    “I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

    But the Skin Horse only smiled

    –  From the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams  –

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