January 31, 2018 § Leave a comment
Care. Humility. Integrity. Justice.
The secondary school I went to between the ages of 13 and 16 (a combination of Middle and Junior High here in the US) employed the school’s acronyms in a lesson on values and qualities that they wanted their students to embody. I thought it was a neat way to encapsulate ‘moral lessons’ for teenage girls though I did wonder for many years what “Integrity” meant. Life eventually showed me those lessons and now there’s no shortage of illustrations.
These words came up again this week as I’ve been watching and reflecting on the developments in our Ashtanga world over the past two months. How would these words apply to the current context? An attempt:
- To Care for oneself, for others and for one’s environment, rooted in empathy and compassion. Mindfulness in one’s way of being. Taking care of things. Taking care not to act (or speak or write) in a way that causes unnecessary harm.
- Humility in thoughts and actions, not only in the field of accomplishments but in relationships. Having humility above all in recognizing that you’re never going to know the full picture. You’ll never know what goes on in others’ minds, their intentions, their baggage and motivations. To have the humility to know that you don’t know and from there cultivate a receptivity that breeds compassion. Being able to see both (or many) sides.
- Integrity of being. A sense of responsibility and moral courage. Of being able to do what is right in situations where it is tempting to kick the can of accountability down the road. Aligning actions with intentions, so that your words have weight and your actions have power.
- Justice. Working for fairness, always, even within systems that are inherently unjust and exploitative and benefit off of it. To ensure that people are adequately rewarded for the effort expended in their work, their livelihoods.
In my immediate environment we’ve also had a major disruption in the form of a teacher leaving the Mysore program she built from the ground up. Her departure, for me, illuminates again two salient lessons: (1) how bloody hard it is to be a Mysore teacher of integrity, humility and dedication for your students and (2) how exploitative the studio business model is of yoga teachers and their labor.
What does it take to run a Mysore program? Sacrifice, a strong love for the practice and the method, stability of mind and heart to nurture students as you nurture and raise your own children. It is a vocation. It’s unglamorous work filled with the messiness of human relationships – projections, illusions, hopes and disappointment – and showing up daily despite all that. And imagine doing all of that while not being able to earn a living wage living in one of the most expensive regions on earth. A system predicated on grossly underpaid labor is bound to fail and this is one failure I am rejoicing in. Hopefully this is the start of something new, a new paradigm where students recognize their responsibility towards ensuring that the teachers who serve us need to be served and protected as well.