Monkey Mind

Martha had attended a yoga class last month (see post of January 12) and enjoyed it very much, so I decided to join her on this Saturday morning; we normally complete our long run for the week on Saturdays, but we had done that yesterday.  Our instructor, Jenn, was as friendly as I had been told, and I also met Patty, a woman Martha had met last month.  Jenn was very accommodating.  "If you feel a little uncomfortable doing this," she would say, "Just put your elbows down."  The day after a ten-mile run, I was cautious about bending my knee, so I was glad to be offered the liberty of alternative poses.  But all went well, and as we always do following a yoga class, we felt calm and relaxed and centered.  We spent the last five minutes in what is called "Shavasana," or corpse pose - simply lying flat on our backs and feeling everything settle down.  I am good at that pose!

"Don't let 'monkey mind' in," Jenn told us.  I remembered hearing this term before, and a little research told me to what it refers in yoga practice:

"The idea of the monkey mind comes from Buddhism. The term has been adopted by yogis to describe a mind that jumps from thought to thought like a monkey jumps from tree to tree. The monkey mind cannot exist in the present moment, but rather is constantly distracted by the thoughts that pass through."

We would all be better off if we could rid ourselves of those jumping monkeys, and somehow it seems easier to do this out here where we can listen to the gentle rhythms of the ocean each night as we go to sleep.

That's our limber instructor in front on the left.  And that's me leaning against the wall next to Martha (another pose I am good at).  "Looks like a police line-up," the man next to me said.  "It's that tall guy!"  I told him I was not worried; my wife would give me an alibi.

It turned colder and windier as the day went on, but I bundled up and walked to the pier and back anyway.  This jellyfish had just washed in, glistening and quivering as if it was still alive.

The surf was surprisingly gentle considering the wind in my face when I turned at the pier and came back.  A gull hovered in the air overhead, perfectly still, and a sandpiper walked to and fro in the surf.  No monkeys anywhere in sight.