Ashtanga Yoga - Closing Prayer - The Mangala Mantra

Om svasthiprajābhyah paripālayantām nyāyena mārgena mahīm mahiśah gobrāhmanebhyah śubhamastu nityam lokāh samastāh sukhinobhavanthu  

Om shantih shantih shantih 

May all be well with mankind. May the leaders of the earth protect in every way by keeping to the right path. May there be goodness for those who know the earth to be sacred. May all the worlds be happy. Peace, peace, peace.

—Interpretation by Sri K. Pattabhi Jois

This prayer is a form of metta - an expression of universal (for ALL, completely impartial) loving kindness.

Om svasthiprajābhyah paripālayantām nyāyena mārgena mahīm mahiśah gobrāhmanebhyah śubhamastu nityam lokāh samastāh sukhinobhavanthu Om shantih shantih shantih May all be well with mankind. May the leaders of the earth protect in every way by keeping to the right path. May there be goodness for those who know the earth to be sacred. May all the worlds be happy. Peace, peace, peace. —Interpretation by Sri K. Pattabhi Jois

No More Memory Holes

We absorb the experiences of our life - each day an ever growing body of impressions and memories. Some day - sometimes when we least expect it - something happens that triggers an expulsion of feelings from someplace rooted deep within us. These past few months, but in particular past few weeks, have provided a hot bed for remembrance and realization. An awakening to the times when we, personally and collectively, have looked the other way, resigning ourselves to blindness, shirking responsibility for our fellow beings.

This past Monday evening, as I was leaving the shala to drive downtown to participate in a vigil for black lives, I picked up this sign that my thoughtful, compassionate sister-in-law had made for me (and for her family as well). Then I remembered that the church had printed fliers emblazoned with the hashtag #saytheirname and a list of the many black sisters and brothers who have lost their lives to the systemic racism of violence and aggression imprinted on our collective experience in this life, in particular in this country. I had a thought - to tape this flier to the backside of my sign. Then when I sat down in the grass at the busy intersection near the bustle of Broadway (sometimes referred to as NashVegas) to meditate I looked at the back of the sign and I saw those names before me, something clicked. I began to do japa (repetition of mantra) on their names. It was a powerful experience to absorb.

I am a white man and as such I fully acknowledge the privilege that this outward appearance, that I just happened into, has afforded me. But, I am also a gay man and I have also experienced the stripping away of much of that privilege that happens upon the stroke of coming out. Time and time again, I’ve been treated one way upon meeting someone and seen that shift right before my eyes and ears as soon as they learn that I’m not really one of them. It leaves a bitter, fearful, shaming, isolating hole in the experience of life from the moment one expresses that identity to the world. 

Many years ago, a dear friend used to say, when something traumatic happened to one of us due to our gayness, “oh gurl, throw it down the memory hole”. Over time that hole gets pretty full and then when we stop, sit, and be, it opens up and the memories come forth.

None of us should be forced to bury the essences of who we are. We must say their names and offer love, compassion, acceptance, and recognition — again and again — until the hole is empty and closed for good and we can all be FREE.  

Musings from the Nunnery

What follows is an account of what went on in my mind on December 3, 2017 – Full Moon Day at the Nagi Gompa Nunnery in the foothills of the Himalayas outside the ancient city of Kathamandu. It was one of the most beautiful and personal experiences of my life and during a week long solo retreat at the nunnery. I share it as an offering in hopes that it may serve as a seed for connection with whoever does me the honor of reading it.

In Ashtanga moon days are special and something important that we observe. No asana practice, extra rest and recovery are appreciated. Here at the nunnery it seems to be a pretty big deal too. Ani G and most of the other nuns didn’t take dinner last night and today there were extra pujas at 8 am and again at 10 am. It seems to be a time of renewal and refresh here too. As I described in my written journal, the prasad rice (“Buddha prasad” as Ani G called it) was made fresh and there were many butter statues being offered and removed today during the puja I attended – at 8 am.

It was a powerful puja for me. It seems that whenever Ani G is present things get amped up and my ability to stay in meditation increases. I had several “realizations” during this morning’s puja and I didn’t want to forget them – I wanted to be able to sit down and ponder them – so, I made quick notes on my phone (I’ve been bringing it with me sometimes so that I can record the nuns). Here’s the list: 

·      Trying so hard. Too hard? A longstanding samskara or maybe even vasana…

·      Little boy – how I feel with my Ani’s

·      Compassion for the elderly nun – is she losing her mind?

·      Ashamed of who I am…  (another samskara)

·      Offer what you can but also what is needed (village man, biz man…)

·      Glue that’s holding this world together – their blessings/efforts/intentions (puja, etc)

Trying so hard

As I sat on my cushion in the back of the monastery, between the windows so that I’m not in the way when they close the curtains at night, and in front of the White Tara (wishing I was in front of Green Tara…) – I had this thought – “I’m trying so hard and I’m still failing”. Trying so hard, this is a theme of my life. I’ve always tried hard. Why? Why am I trying so hard? To please. I’m trying to prove something to somebody somewhere. Myself? My Mom? My Grandpa Beard? My Grandmother Bryant? My students? Richard? Jen? David? Since childhood it’s been this endless revolving door of others who I want to please, make proud, prove I’m worthy. Here, on some level, it’s Ani Gyantara. I had this incredible meditation experience with her when we came up with the group a couple weeks ago. She invited (insisted) we come down to a room on the floor below Guru Rinpoche’s room for a meditation with her. She chanted quite a bit and it was mindblowing beautiful. Literally. I started to feel myself shaking like there was an earthquake within me from my seat up to the top of my head. Tears started to flow down my face. My eyes started quivering and lights started flashing within my head. Projections of the Buddha, the mountains and the monastery were flashing before me like the negatives of a photo – as if they were being projected from behind my skull, through my head and out in front of me. And my eyes seemed like they were being forced open. I was resisting because I was afraid it would end, but then they did pop open, but I didn’t see what I knew was in front of me (all the Yoga Nepalers). I just saw shining blue sky.

Afterward, and after the others had left the room, I approached with my hands in prayer and my head bowed, tears came fast and hard and it was all I could do to say, “Thank you so much Ani la”. She took my hands in hers, looked right into me with her big wide eyes and said, “you come back, do retreat.” I was knocked back and knew right then and there that I was going to extend my trip and come back to Nagi.

So, now I’m here and I’m having this thought about trying. I think it’s a wake-up call reminding me to get out of my head, surrender to the path and just be here. And it’s my nature to try and that’s OK too.

Little boy

As the trying too hard thoughts went past I came to a follow-up thought which was that the Ani’s make me feel like a little boy again – in the warm, strong arms of my Grandma Betty. Here I am a 47-year old man and the Ani’s have me in the palm of their hands. They say sit, I sit, they say sweep, I sweep, they say eat, I eat and they say go to puja, I go to puja. It’s incredibly catharthic/comforting. And it’s pretty incredible/fortunate to be the only one here with them. This morning as I sat on this little stool in their kitchen it was like being transported back to the green stool in Grandma Betty’s kitchen (now next to my bed). Watching them cook and chat. They seem to have such a special bond. And it surprises me how much they have to say to one another. I wonder if that’s their chatting time? Ani G seems to be off on her own much of the day, not sure where she is. Ani S seems more out and about – I come across her in the hallways frequently. Anyhoo, I like being their little boy, it’s quite a treat! 

Compassion for the elderly nun – is she losing her mind?

So, I mentioned in my journal that there is a nun that just goes off during puja. Well, today, during the 8 am puja, she came in late and made quite a little scurfuffle as she entered – something to do with her robes. Then she made her way to a seat and again started chattering – pretty loudly. At one point, I looked over and saw Ani G turn and raise a finger to her lips to shush the nun. She did quiet down after that, not immediately, but gradually. It occurred to me that maybe she is going senile. And then I felt this rush of emotion – compassion, I think. I thought about how awful it must be to be doing all this work with one’s mind only to lose it.

Ashamed of who I am… 

Then, for some reason, after some meditation time had passed, thoughts of shame came to my mind. I had this heavy feeling of just how ashamed I have been over the years for being gay. I thought about talking to Ani Sonam or even Tokpa Tulku about being gay and what it has meant for my mind. Explaining to them that I grew up in a Christian household that thinks gay is an abomination and how I used to read the Bible and berate myself for being me. The weight of it just hit me – I’m still ashamed. A big part of me doesn’t want to deal with it anymore. I don’t appreciate the lustful preoccupation and feel a bit annoyed by my sexuality as it detracts from my inner work. Not sure what the heck to do about it. Definitely part of why sometimes I wish I could just become a monk and set it aside…. 

Offer what you can

…and also what is needed.

I guess because today is a special day there were more visitors to puja. They come in and move around the hall in various ways – obviously quite comfortable navigating the place. At one point I looked over and saw a fairly well put together man with some semblance of monk’s clothing and a nice backpack. He went to the front to make an offering and then went down the row offering each nun money and some a katha (blessing scarf). Later, a Nepali man wearing gray simple clothing including a dark gray vest – probably his best – entered a I saw give the old rice-counting nun that sits directly in front of me a plastic bag of milk (that’s how milk is stored here).

They were sweet gestures and seemed to be coming from a place of integrity and heart. As I watched this transpire it brought a realization that they were offering what they can – it didn’t so much matter what it was they offered – it was the best/most they could do given their situation. And not only that, especially in the case of the milk, it was offering something that the nuns need. I really don’t think they have much use for money, but the milk is something they will definitely put directly to use for the support of all who live here. In the time I’ve spent with my Ani’s it’s clear that nothing goes to waste. Even the waste is used to feed animals, grow vegetables or create bio gas. It’s a beautiful thing.

Glue that’s holding this world together

These days it’s pretty easy to develop the feeling that this world is hanging on by a thread. In a sense, I guess it always has been, but with so much craziness going on around us, it can really become difficult to maintain sthira (steadiness) and sukham (ease) within. These past several days, as I’ve been witness to the daily practices of the Nagi Gompa nuns, I’ve begun to think that maybe their efforts – and others like them around the world – are the bit of glue that’s holding it all together. It can be so easy to apply a lens of skepticism and doubt over the pujas, prayers, blessings and wishes of the nuns – what difference could it possibly make if they light another butter lamp, string up more prayer flags, or spin another prayer wheel? Well, maybe a heck of a lot. Maybe it’s exactly that energy that is moving out into the world and protecting us from the worst of what we all know is possible….

We're Here, Now What? (The True Success)

On the run up to the move I began establishing contact through social media (see, it’s really good for something, LOL) with any and all Ashtangis I could identify in the Nashville area. The first one was the owner of the web domain that we wanted to use - ashtanganashville.com. He was super nice and supportive and offered to give it to us. The second was Roland, who I had lunch with when I came in May to find a house, and we hit it off easily and have become good friends. It continued like that until I’d managed to gather a group of about twelve folks - most of whom then began practicing with me at the shala in the month preceding the official opening. It was awesome to have them with me and made the transition much easier. 

A super interesting aspect of that coming together was that all of us were coming to the practice through different teachers:  David Garrigues, Tim Miller, Richard & Mary, Matthew Sweeney, Laura Spaulding, Sharath, Saraswati, David Keil, and Tim & Kino. I immediately picked up on some pretty significant differences in how and even what we practiced from day to day. It was eye-opening and sparked me to dig deeper into my own thinking and approach to this practice we all love. Did I think I was going to convert them all over to “my way”? Is that what I needed to feel “successful”? Would I have anything to offer them? How would we possibly teach together (I already knew some of them had that desire)? What sort of shala culture would that cultivate? Is that “good” for the students?

I let these questions percolate while we practiced together and readied the shala for opening day. I spent time with them, had conversations about practice, and observed them. Respect for each of them came easily, along with a deep appreciation for the support they were offering me and the shala.

Then, the shala opened and a few folks trickled in. Mostly those that had some exposure to the practice and were coming with their own impressions of how it's done. So, I met them where they were and allowed a settling in process -- letting them guide the way as we developed an appreciation for one another’s roles. I allowed space for them to come to me for assistance rather than asserting that they needed it -- and they did ask. 

It also became clear that Ashtanga is an unknown in Nashville. Many in the yoga community don’t seem to know what it is or if they do then it’s seen as “crazy” or “rigid”. And Mysore is just completely non-understood. It feels like starting with a blank slate - an untouched canvas - with a core group of somewhat seasoned folks gathered around looking at it and not sure where to make the first mark or lay down the first brush stroke.

I quickly realized that I could take one of two approaches as the leader of this venture. I could go out strong, my-way-of-the-highway, this is how it’s done and if you don’t like it, there’s the door. Or I could recognize and appreciate our differences, step back and the cultivate group dynamic. So, I’ve opted for the latter. At the end of the day, what’s important to me, is that we’re coming together in a space we consider sacred, honoring it and one another as such, and engaging in a meaningful and safe practice that is grounded in Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga and the 8 limbs of Patanjali. That’s what we are doing and it feels amazing.

In addition to that, I also aspire to build something that will carry on with or without me. None of us know how many days we have left in this body. We just don’t. Part of my daily practice for some time now has been coming to terms with that fact -- accepting it and becoming comfortable in it. So, when I look at what we’re doing here at AYNash, I step back and I think, “what can I do to further cultivate these relationships:  with practice, with the community, and with one another?” because if, for some reason, I should no longer be available, it would do my heart the greatest good to know that these beloved yogis are carrying on in my absence. For me, that would be true success.

Getting it done...

It’s late summer 2018 and I’ve lost some momentum - not so sure I’m going to be able to make this move to Nashville happen on the timeline I’d planned. I’ve held a nice retreat in Italy that summer and teaching at Flow is going well -- although balancing morning and evening Mysore shifts along with practice is no small feat. One morning I step out of the Mysore room to check in with Jessica, a long-time friend and student who’s just wrapped up her practice, and she says something along the lines of “well, I’ve got news --- we’re moving to Nashville in December”. By the end of the day we’d agreed to meet to discuss working together to open a shala in Nashville.

It was the boost I needed. A good, supportive, can-do friend in the right place at the right time. Over the coming months, on the lead up to her move, Jessica and I met several times and together we put the pieces in place. We developed a business plan, established an LLC, registered with the State of Tennessee, claimed the name of the shala, and even made first contact with the church, which would become our home. Shortly after she and her husband moved, she FaceTimed me from the church and it was pretty clear to both of us that we’d found the right space. I flew down a couple weeks later, met with the pastor and within the month we had a signed lease agreement.

As hard as it was to fathom leaving our friends and community in DC, it felt like the signs were clear. This is what I’m meant to do. One of those signs was literally a sign. On the front lawn of the church there is a large sign embedded in the earth that says “Woodland Presbyterian Church - an inclusive community of faith”. This is, of course, tremendously important to me and quickly helped dissuade my concerns about locating the shala in a church. Not only that, but Jessica and I found this church in a matter of minutes and with one email and a couple visits the lease was signed. In addition, I was raised Presbyterian for the first twelve years of my life and it felt very full circle. It felt right on so many levels. Then my little brother sent me a photo of a sketch he had done of the church back in 2010! And the church was willing to grant us a graduated lease making start up so much easier. On top of all that, I did a bit of googling and learned that the prior pastor - who’d been there for many years - was at the forefront of the gay marriage movement in Tennessee. AND the first weekend after our move was Nashville Gay Pride and we marched with the church! All this left me with a grounded sense of YES. (And you can read more about these signs in prior blogs). 

Thankfully my partner in life, Richard, believed enough in me to think all this was right too. So, we set the lease to start June 15th and then set out sights on the move to Nashville. In May I flew down and went on the hunt for a house to rent. It was crazy! Nashville’s exploding and the housing market in East Nashville was a lot like NYC back in the early 2000s. People were signing leases on the spot. Fortunately, I was able to secure a good place for us to land and set that lease date for June 15th as well. We loaded up a U-Haul (had to make a last minute run back to U-Haul for an additional trailer --- crazy!) and hit the road. 

I learned some pretty major life lessons during this time - one being to ask for and accept help. I don’t think I could have made it through the first couple months without the financial support I received from DC friends. And I’m not sure I could have done this without Jessica -- she’s a get-er-done kinda person and really gave me the kick in the pants I needed. But, not only that, she believed I could do this. It made me realize how much I doubt myself. And pushed me to dig in and figure out why. A big part of it stemmed way back into my early childhood. As long as I can remember I wanted to be the best student in each and every class I took. I wanted the teachers' approval. Over and over again. And I did the same thing with my yoga teachers. And some part of me never feels “good enough” and as a result I have often held myself back. Sure, maybe I wasn’t the “best” at any given thing, but, I was me and I AM GOOD ENOUGH!

Building a Shala: The Best Laid Plans (and Why Nashville?)

It was all set. I’d leave FDA in December, enjoy the holidays, spend February in India to practice with David Garrigues, come back and ready the shala for opening day in April 2016. I had a plan. I had an answer when someone in career-driven, everyone’s-uber-successful DC asked me. I could still hold my head high even though I wasn’t part of the DC machine any longer.

India was awesome, everything was on track. March came and the permits were lagging. Everyone said, “oh, that’s DC, you can count on things taking ten times longer than you planned.” I kept my spirits up and decided to use the additional time to continue my studies. I signed up for Tim Miller’s Second Series training and followed David all over the country (I spent over 100 days with him that year). The permits weren’t coming and the hold on the buildout continued. Then, one day in August, near the end of the training with Tim, I got an email:  if you’d like to continue toward setting up the shala in this space, you’ll have to start paying rent on September 1st. WHAT THE ACTUAL F…?! The permits still weren’t ready and not one nail had been hammered. The space was an empty shell in a brand new gleaming building. At this point the best case scenario was to occupy in six months, which meant a minimum $30,000 in the negative before we opened the doors (turns out it would’ve been more like $60k!). I just couldn’t stomach it. I bailed. It was no one’s fault really, just the nature of the beast for small business DC.

So, as I boarded the flight back to DC I had no plan. I had no answer. Thankfully I did have the unfailing support of Flow Yoga Center (it’s owners, staff and patrons) and the opportunity to teach as much as I wanted. I kept that up and then on February 6th, 2017, with the encouragement and support of my good friend Jen Rene, launched an evening Mysore program that continues to this day. In the midst of all that, with additional trips to Nepal and India and apprenticeship with David, a new plan began to take shape. 

In 1996, when I came out to my parents, our relationship hit a major rough patch. It wasn’t until 2003, when they met Richard, that things between us improved significantly. Since that time we’ve had a few ups and downs, but we’ve come to a good place. As I approached 50 and they passed 70, I began to feel this draw to be nearer to them. Plus, my younger brothers and their wives are Richard and I’s closest friends -- and their children are super important to us. And since Andrew, my youngest brother, moved to Nashville nearly 20 years ago, we’ve intermittently considered the notion of living here.

I also knew that I wanted to put myself out there and try to build community. To bring yoga, specifically Ashtanga (vinyasa and the eight limb path), to those that didn’t have access. There aren’t that many places in the country where Rich and I both want to live and feel comfortable, as a gay couple, living -- that don’t already have thriving Mysore programs -- and are close to my family. Nashville met all three criteria. 

So, all that is to say, family and yoga - this is why Nashville. And I’m really happy about it so far. Now all I had to do was secure a space in Nashville, come up with the funds to get it going, establish a business in TN, find a house, move and….

Building a Shala (1st Installment)

When I was a kid growing up in the farm country of the midwest the ultimate vision of success was to become a medical doctor. Money, status, a big house, a big family, new cars and Sunday mornings at church were the goal. All the way through high school I had my sights set on being a veterinarian or a doctor, but even well before high school I began to suspect that a wife and kids was not in my future. Then about 3rd year into university the doctor image began to crumble as well. So, I went for the next best thing -- graduate school. I kept going and going and somehow ended up with a PhD. I felt some level of self worth on that front, but my insides were a shambles and acknowledging my gayness had turned my world upside down. By the time I moved to New York City in 2000 I found myself existing in two different worlds --- the gay Chelsea-boy culture by night and weekend and the Fortune 500 corporate, closeted world by day. Life kicked into overdrive and then 9/11 happened….

My friend Boden said, “I think it’d be good for you to come with me to yoga, but first go to Integral Yoga Institute and get the basics”. So I did. And then we went to Jivamukti Yoga School and my life started in a new direction. Over the coming 6 years and a move to DC, my devotion to yoga grew and in 2008 I walked away from the conventional path (the first time), resigned from my food policy job, and went to Jivamukti teacher training. The lure of stability, money, prestige, and the investment I’d made in education pulled me back later that year and I accepted a position at FDA. For a few years it felt like maybe it was the right direction to take. I was working in counterterrorism, started a successful international outreach program, and then joined the Beijing team and relished in the role of a diplomat. But, as I worked my way up the ranks, I began to run more and more frequently up against decisions that revealed the ugly, economic driven side of United States’ foreign policy. It stopped feeling right and at the same time my personal commitment to the yogic path elevated to the point that I knew it was where I wanted to funnel my energy.

My self-esteem trajectory mirrored this progression. I began to believe more in myself and think that maybe I could actually serve others through the sharing and teaching of yoga. I finally felt that I had found my dharma and was strong enough to admit it.

In October 2015 I tendered my resignation and on December 17th I walked out of the FDA building knowing that I couldn’t turn around and go back in (I’d surrendered my badge). As I drove out of the FDA lot a feeling I hadn’t anticipated washed over me. The gate closed behind me and so many years of “Hi, I’m Dr. Cory Bryant, International Policy Manager and…” moved through my mind. It hit me that I was no longer that person -- I was letting go of that identity. It was bittersweet and incredibly liberating. 

That was December 17, 2015 and I had a plan to open a yoga shala in Navy Yard -- an up and coming DC neighborhood. But, you know what they say about the best laid plans….

Do You See What I See?

This time of year can present us with many challenges when it comes to maintaining peace amongst friends and family that may see things a bit (or even a lot…) differently than we do. And although what I’m sharing here is something we all inherently know, it can be easy to forget. So, as I remind myself, I thought it might be good to share.

vastu-sāmye citta-bhedāt tayor vibhaktaḥ panthāḥ

Because there is a multiplicity of minds (perceiving an object) but yet the object remains consistent, there is a difference in nature between the object and the mind (of the observer). 

PYS IV.15 - from Edwin Bryant’s “the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali”

I find myself stunned each time I come across a pro-Trump Facebook post from someone I know. A similar mind process unfolds: (1) you’ve got to be kidding me; (2) why in the world do they support this man?; (3) how on earth could they view anything he does as moral or ethical?; (4) I’m gonna comment; (5) no, that won’t do anything but create tension between us; (6) close Facebook.

It’s about perspective. Yours and mine. The objects of the material world – prakriti – that surround each and every one of us, are what they are. And yet, we perceive something different than the person standing right next to us for everything we see. This is true on a very practical, gross level and can be validated by simply placing the same object in front of two people and independently asking them to describe it. You will get different answers. Of course a key factor here is what objects we choose to place in front of us….

Another side of this concept can be explored when we go beyond the obvious and into the subtle aspects of our perception. Why do we perceive differently? Because we each have uniquely influenced thought patterns. And those thought patterns determine our response.

PYS I.5 says, vrttayah pancatayyah klista aklista – we have five categories of thought patterns and they are either klista meaning distorted by the kleshas or not (aklista). Kleśas are hindrances to yoga that come about due to ignorance of Self, inflated ego, attachment to pleasure, aversion to hardship, and clinging to life. Each of these play out differently and shape our views. The trick is whether we acknowledge these factors and make effort (through a yoga practice, for example) to understand and mold their impact on our being, or not.

Our thought patterns begin to change dramatically when we explore concepts such as emptiness, soul/Self, samskara (habits, tendencies) and samsara (the repeating cycle of birth, life, death). We may begin to put everything in the light of the Self and under the scope of our ultimate reality – purusha. Purusha is the changeless reality, the lifeforce we all share that lies beneath the material world – prakriti. Purusha is not affected by the goings on of the world, and yet it remains the constant, strong, energetic force that supports the world.

The yogi’s perspective becomes tempered by the knowledge of purusha. They are less disturbed by what’s happening outside themself. Their thoughts are less and less disrupted by the tragedies of the world. It’s not that they don’t care, they do, deeply. But, they accept that the material world is one of change and their place in it is temporary. Their efforts become increasingly directed at connecting more fully with their eternal, blissful, Self. There is nothing that has greater impact on their awareness of the objects placed before them. That impact is one of equanimity that brings a calmness to their existence. From this place they can operate in the world with great passion, but limited attachment. The ups and downs, successes and failures, do not have the impact on their efforts that they once did. They are able to stay the course, stay on the path, do the work – because it’s the right thing to do, not because they are seeking material, or even spiritual, gain - and continue to love everyone. As Barbara Stoler Miller wrote in “Yoga – Discipline of Freedom”, “The path to freedom consists of a gradual unwinding of misconceptions that allows for fresh perceptions.”

Om mani padme hum

Om mani padme hum, Om mani padme hum, Om mani padme hum…

In Kathmandu, around Boudhanath Stupa, there is a shop with big speakers in front that plays a melodic version of this mantra. It’s accompanied by the low murmur of locals as they walk around and around the stupa with this mantra spilling over their mala beads to create the heartbeat of the village. From my first time around the stupa, taking in all its marvelous sights, smells and sounds, the mantra got its grips on me. I love the idea of it, this continual pledge to develop compassion (mani) and wisdom (padme) as a means to transform the way we view the world. 

These Tibetan words are the subject of vast translation and are said to capture the essence of the Buddha’s teaching - the dharma. The monks and Buddhist laypeople of Nepal paint and carve these letters on walls and stones in many places throughout their sacred landscape. In 2010 I snapped a photo of one such wall at a monastery known as Namo Buddha and pulled it up frequently in the years that followed. It prompted me to dig deeper into its meaning and its use as a mantra. “Man” means mind and “tra” means to cross over – a mantra is a meditative device that when repeated helps to protect, focus and calm the mind. I began to use the mantra myself and in time it occurred to me that maybe I’d get it tattooed on my body (‘cause I need frequent reminding) which I did a couple years ago – on my right forearm – to remind me….

Every day we come to junctures, moments that require us to act. One way to look at these moments is with regard to their potential consequences. Outcomes that vary widely in their potential impacts and that can be placed into three general buckets: negative, neutral or positive. Part of my own practice has become to apply the lens of this mantra to my actions – to remind myself continually to at least try to put myself in other being’s shoes and to remember that nothing is permanent – everything around us is changing all the time. 

Our human condition involves varying amounts of suffering. It simply comes with the territory of inhabiting this body. When we can remember that we’re not alone in our suffering and further that it’s temporary, well, hopefully the result is alleviation of suffering through the creation of space. Space to feel, space to accept, space to forgive, space to let go and space to carry on. Lack of space – when we feel crowded by our thoughts, cramped by our position, boxed in by our actions, unable to express ourselves, inhibited by others opinions is dukkha (suffering/dissatisfaction) – these are all ways in which space is not available to us resulting in anxiety, fear, depression, anger, jealousy, greed, doubt and all their companions that cause us to want to crawl into a hole and stay there possibly becoming even more boxed in by our own fight or flight reactions.

So, on this past trip to Nepal, when I sat down with my teacher, Tokpa Tulku, I asked him about this mantra. He described “Om” as the result or goal of practice, that being to develop the body, speech and mind of a Buddha. The Buddha represents our ability to overcome the trappings of the thinking mind – the wisdom that manifests once the obscurations of thought are gone – once the mind rests and allows peace, i.e, space, to come.

“Mani” and “padme” describe the path to Buddhahood. Mani symbolizes compassion – the practice of repeatedly opening one’s heart to the suffering of others, to develop an appreciation for the shared struggles of sentient beings. This alleviates some of the pressure we all feel because it creates a more even playing field – where we no longer feel alone. There is the camaraderie of shared struggle – when we set our ego aside and recognize one another as ourselves.

Padme symbolizes wisdom – the overturning of ignorance – the deep seated belief and grasping to the idea that there is permanence. Relinquishing this notion we are able to allow for the potential that lies within the present moment – within the purity of the spaciousness that lies at our core and gets buried deep by our ego-driven struggles to create an identity we can be “proud” of.

The last syllable, “hum”, is the exclamation point – it emphasizes the importance of balanced development of these qualities. Tokpa Tulku said “we are working to engage both of these (mani and padme) equally, to develop a balanced practice that will shape our fundamental view” and “remember, they must complement each other, not negate”.