My Body Is A Temple: Yoga As A Path to Wholeness

2010

PREFACE

This book is the result of the influence of my two primary teachers—Lee Lozowick, my guru and John Friend, the founder of Anusara Yoga. I met these two extraordinary men within six months of each other and have had the good fortune to enjoy an ongoing and ever-deepening relationship with them both. Over the years their relationship with one another has evolved into one of mutual respect and admiration, which serves as a source of delight and inspiration to me and those who know them. Without the help of these two teachers I would have little to say on any topic related to yoga and spiritual practice. Additionally, this book references Carlos Pomeda and Professor Douglas Renfrew Brooks, with whom I have periodically studied yoga philosophy

In Yoga from the Inside Out (Hohm Press, 2003) I presented many of Lee Lozowick’s primary teachings alongside the teachings of Anusara Yoga in a way that was consistent with my personal practice and direct experience. While Lee Lozowick teaches in what he calls the Western Baul tradition, and John Friend’s Anusara Yoga philosophy is informed by the elegant philosophies of Northern India (Kashmir Shaivism, primarily) as well as Southern Indian schools such as the Shri Vidya tradition, their schools are, in my opinion and experience, more complementary than different.

At the heart of each tradition is the recognition that there is one singular presence behind all manifestation. Both traditions invite the yoga practitioner into a direct and personal relationship with this singular presence through the radical affirmation of life as it is, within a community of like-minded practitioners, and under the guidance of a skillful teacher. Both traditions teach in practical ways how we might rely on the Divine and its blessings in the midst of the challenges of our ordinary lives.

This book is not intended to be a treatise on either the Western Baul or the Anusara Yoga tradition, nor is it intended to be a synthesis of them. My intention is to outline basic principles of spiritual practice as they relate to a variety of disciplines, and to show how people of all faiths and practitioners of all methods of yoga might see and experience those endeavors from the highest possible perspective.

Any mistakes I have made in this presentation are due to my own ignorance and inexperience. Truly, anything useful belongs to the wise and compassionate teachers who have so generously guided me. May the influences of the different lineages that inform this offering guide each one of us along this ageless path of learning, transformation and awakening called yoga.

—Christina Sell

August 2010

INTRODUCTION

Time was when I despised the body;

But then I saw the God within.

The body, I realized is the Lord’s temple;

And so I began preserving it with care Infinite.

—Bhogar (circa 1600)

The body as a temple is a common metaphor in many spiritual schools and traditions. As a person who has battled body image and food addiction issues for much of my life, I have always been struck by this metaphor because of the difficulty I have had accepting my own body. For many years, the vision of my body as a temple, though inspiring, was much too grand for me to actually relate to and put to practice. Before embodying such a context, I had to first end a war I had been waging against myself and my body, and make peace. Yoga from the Inside Out—which I wrote in 2002—describes a process of making peace with my body that occurred through the application of spiritual precepts under Lee Lozowick’s direction and through the principles and practices of Anusara Yoga. As the years have passed, and I have become more established in a relationship of peace with myself and my body, I realized there was a step to take beyond making peace. This next step took me into the domain of discipleship and spiritual life, where I began to see that a life of spiritual practice is a type of sanctuary in and of itself. Practicing according to the deepest truths of the heart is its own refuge. This lifestyle helps the practitioner cultivate a physical body that is stable, bright, and thus able to withstand the rigors of service, devotion and transformation.

Although I have always loved the idea that the body is a temple, this idea came to life for me on my first trip to India in 2004, in the company of my spiritual teacher Lee Lozowick and a group of his students. This trip was a pilgrimage in many ways, because it included a visit to the ashram of Lee’s guru, Yogi Ramsuratkumar, an Indian saint who spent most of his life in southern India in Tamil Nadu. This trip was an opportunity for my teacher to visit the sacred ashram of his master, and for those of us who were Lee’s students to glimpse the parampara, the lineage, of which we are a part.

After a long, sleepless, intercontinental flight, and a harrowing bus ride that I was soon to learn was quite typical of bus rides in India, our bedraggled traveling group arrived in Tiruvannamalai in the shadow of the sacred mountain Arunachala, and proceeded immediately to the Yogi Ramsuratkumar Ashram, where we spent four days participating in their programs. With this as our base we explored the town and neighboring ashrams. Being in India was exhilarating, deeply healing and inspirational. Many of my preconceived ideas about the Path were overturned in the process, and my ideas about what a yogi is were redefined here. Despite the fact that Yogi Ramsuratkumar had left his body in 2001, the time at his ashram was the highlight of my five weeks in India. Here we had the opportunity to meet with Ma Devaki, who had been Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s personal attendant since 1993.

In some of these meetings, Ma Devaki told us stories of her life with Yogi Ramsuratkumar, including the many miracles she experienced in his company. She told us about his adamant claim that his ashram was sacred ground where, as he said, anyone who came would be blessed. She told us about how his temple was built, and how he intended it to be the means by which he would continue to impart his blessings after his physical body had passed. In those conversations with our group she repeatedly asked us, Do you feel Him him here? I remember always answering affirmatively. Yes, I told her, I felt him. And although I was deliriously happy during my stay at Yogi Ramsuratkumar Ashram, quite frankly, I answered yes mostly to be polite.

Several days after leaving Tiruvannamalai, our group visited another temple in Tamil Nadu. I remember that the architecture and the iconography were stunning. I also remember that there was a distinctly different quality to my inner state at this temple. I found that I felt less happy there than I had at Yogi Ramsuratkumar Ashram. Was that supremely happy feeling that I had felt actually Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s blessing? I began to wonder. Had his temple actually been able to transmit to me the blessing of this hidden saint, just as he said it would? And could it be that those blessings would actually come to me from within, in an experience of inner joy, deep happiness and exquisite satisfaction with the life I had chosen?

I pondered these questions throughout the remainder of the trip, and also noticed that certain practices would re-create the same state of being—or a close approximation—to what I had experienced sitting in Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s temple. Chanting, asana, pranayama, meditation and even visualization could recreate within me a happiness similar to what I felt there. This book is a result of my ongoing wondering about whether or not asana practice was a means to build a place of worship within myself. Do the forms of practice embody the necessary building blocks to construct a life that is a sanctuary and a body that is a temple? I asked myself. Could a life of practice help me to abide more constantly at the shrine of my own heart?

Western devotees approach the Temple of Yogi Ramsuratkumar, Tiruvannamalai, South India, Winter 2005.

As I have become more passionate about these ideas of building a temple of the body, I have continued incorporating them into my practice and into the classes and workshops I teach. I have found this metaphor rich, engaging and relevant to my own practice. Students from many traditions also seem to relate to this idea and make use of the metaphor. I really cannot say that I have fully embodied this teaching, as obviously I am still very much a work in process. Success in yoga is not measured easily, nor is it measured in the short term. However, I can testify that when I practice with high ideals such as these, I am called into their higher sphere for my points of reference, rather than remaining in the sphere of my habitual, ordinary mind. Living in a sphere other than my habitual mind makes all the difference in the world to me. Rather than just performing the asanas physically, I practice the asanas as a means to embody these high ideals. In doing so, my asanas become prayers, affirmations and gestures of remembrance.

This conscious fusion of the physical with the metaphysical, and the commitment to explicating that relationship, is one of the hallmarks of practicing yoga as a spiritual art. By physicalizing virtue, a yoga practitioner uses asana as a decidedly spiritual endeavor. This approach has been profoundly transformational for me, literally changing how I see myself, how I view the world around me, and determining what I think about. Practicing yoga as a spiritual art has delivered me to a different state of consciousness, one that would have been impossible to achieve through the mere repetition of physical gestures. The practice has aligned my attitude as well as my body.

Building a temple of the body is a metaphor meant to inspire our efforts in yoga toward a higher possibility than simply stretching and strengthening or even being happier or more centered. Building a temple of the body is hopefully an instruction manual for dedicating oneself to a life of the spirit in and through the vehicle of the body. Interestingly, there are ongoing debates in the world of yoga philosophy about whether the body is a vehicle of consciousness or whether it is an expression of consciousness. But these distinctions are outside the scope of this book. However, on a more personal note, one evening I tentatively asked my spiritual teacher, Lee: Is the body a vehicle of the Divine or is it an expression of the Divine? He rolled his eyes, sighed heavily and said, It depends on the day.

If we look at Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s temple as an authoritative example, then the body is both. The body, as our temple, is both the house of the spirit and the spirit made manifest. Why spend a lot of time dividing it all up? In fact, as sincere seekers we can find the value in both vantage points, seeing each perspective as an important facet of the diamond of an inclusive view.

Certainly for yoga scholars and students of comparative religion, these distinctions are important. I am neither. What I am is a sincere student of a great art called yoga, which rewards my progress on the path with increasingly difficult challenges. I am a fumbling yet dedicated student of a force of grace called Yogi Ramsuratkumar, as it is embedded in the vehicle called Lee Lozowick, my spiritual teacher. As his student, I am constantly challenged to say yes to the seemingly impossible, and then to rely on that very same force of grace to show me how to fuel my efforts optimally. Truth be told, I am basically a spoiled, neurotic, American woman who is drawn to Eastern contemplative practices like meditation, prayer, asana and mantra as much as I am to shopping malls, fine restaurants and nice clothes. I am not a renunciate, a scholar or a yogic expert. This book is not concerned with ironing out the nitty-gritty details of yoga philosophy. Nor is this book intended to be an exhaustive treatise on hatha yoga, asana practice, yoga philosophy or my teacher’s ministry.

Instead, this book is an invitation to each of us to engage a great temple-building project of our own. We can create a life of practice that builds a great temple of the body that will be both a vehicle for, as well as the literal embodiment of, grace. This book is meant to encourage and inspire each of us to enter fully into our lives here, now, however we find them, with the assumption that our lives contain within them a Divine blueprint for success, and all the bricks, mortar, raw materials and energy necessary to build a great temple. We can cultivate ourselves through yogic practices to become a temple that can provide refuge and sanctuary so that we might serve something greater than our own personal whims.

The Structure

My Body Is a Temple, Yoga As A Path to Wholeness is organized around six basic principles and utilizes the metaphor of building a temple of the body as a way to bring the principles of practice alive in a meaningful way. The six principles are 1.) Building Plans: Put the Highest First, 2.) Foundations: Establishing a Solid Foundation, 3.) Scaffolding: Erecting and Maintaining Strong Walls of Support, 4.) Entering the Sanctuary: Expanding the Inner Life, 5.) Worship: Life at the Shrine of the Heart, and 6.) Outreach Ministry: Service and Celebration.

The philosophies that inform my yoga practice suggest that the physical world is a microcosm of the spiritual. The physical world, the world of matter, is seen as condensed spiritual energy that functions according to the same principles as the world of the spirit. The theory follows that by understanding one end of the spectrum, one may gain entry into or understanding about the other. Given these philosophies of totality, many metaphors could be put to use in a book like this. The temple of the body is certainly not the only useful metaphor, but one for which I have an affinity due to my love for Yogi Ramsuratkumar and his temple, and because of my own struggle to love, honor and respect my physical structure as a temple.

At the end of each chapter I have included questions for contemplation. After I wrote Yoga from the Inside Out, many people asked me, "But how do I actually do it? How do I actually take this starting point of a ‘war with the body’ and actually ‘make peace’? How do I start with self-hatred and transform it into self-love?" I received as many letters thanking me for sharing my story as I did requests for more tangible, practical advice. Evidently, I had failed to make clear that much of the transformation happens internally, in the midst of ordinary circumstances, and that there is no easy way to bring these principles to life. No teacher, no class, no book, not even any particular yoga method can do the work for us. However, writing and discussion are great tools that can help these ideas come to life inside each of us. Only by taking an idea and chewing on it awhile can we internalize and be guided by it. This book is intended to provide food for thought that will most definitely require some chewing. It is in no way intended to offer a simple solution or a quick fix.

Ways of Knowing

In the first chapter of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Patanjali discusses something called pramana or correct knowledge. He says we can know correct knowledge in one of three ways: 1. pratyaksa—direct perception, 2. anumana—inference and 3. agama—scriptural reference or the testimony of an expert of scripture.(¹) When inquiring into the nature of the Divine and the means by which we might align ourselves with it in order to build a temple of the body we will rely on these three primary ways of knowing that Patanjali outlined.

1. We will rely on our own direct perception, pratyaksa, including those situations where our hair stands on end. These are moments of recognition, and we will rely on them as markers of truth. We will use those feelings of deep rightness and inner alignment