I’m thrilled to be teaching the first YOGA OF BELLE workshop on the 16th at Sankalpah.  Jude asked for a blog posting and I gave her this part of THE YOGA OF BELLE, which also seems fitting for this blog in some ways.

Mostly this fits because it’s exactly what I’m striving for in learning the sonatas — a renewal of the spirit of play through music rather than asana.  And frankly, any excuse to sing Belle’s praises seems incredibly worthwhile.   Enjoy!…

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“The dog was created especially for children. He is the god of frolic.”
Henry Ward Beecher

“The sage perceives the universe as a Cosmic Playground,
and life in it as a Cosmic Dance.”
Swami Venkatesananda’s translation of YOGA VASISHTHA

Last summer, I arrived with Belle to visit my friend Genevieve’s family on Shelter Island.  After I opened the door to the rental car, like the people-loving animal she is, Belle happily greeted each person in the family, with particularly enthusiastic licking of the two squealing toddlers.  Then, spying their swimming pool, Belle made an immediate beeline for the water. Not asking permission, but climbing right over and pretty much toppling the mesh-fence, Belle jumped into the pool and began swimming joyously.  I can’t imagine that any living creature has ever been happier than Belle was splashing around that August day. (Fortunately my friend Genevieve was highly amused, telling me, “Honestly, I wish all my guests would just say ‘hello’ and then dive into the pool.  It would make being a weekend hostess so much simpler.”)

I’ve taught Belle many useful commands—“Sit” and “Stay” are chief among them—that make our shared experience run more smoothly.  Yet I’ve never heard of anyone training a dog to “Play” on cue.

Belle wants to dive into any body of water for the pure joy of splashing around.  She’s not motivated by anything external such as a food reward or praise from me, her owner.  Unlike myself, who had planned on swimming some laps later that day, she had not decided to maintain a disciplined fitness regime.  It’s simpler than that.  She has no motivation beyond the joy of play.  In fact, when it comes to play, she’s truly a master.

For several years I taught one of the most advanced classes in New York City at the Laughing Lotus, aptly titled “Cosmic Play.”  What made “Cosmic Play” so unique was really not so much that it assumed a level of physical mastery, but more that it was directed and led by the teacher and then interspersed with moments of individual creative exploration.  In other words, having taught something quite specific and given several challenging variations, I would more or less encourage students to “play” with the ideas I offered on their own in whatever shapes they wished—a “freestyle” section of the class, as it were.

Interestingly, I found these moments of freedom were perhaps the most advanced aspect of the class.  Some students who would zealously and bravely attempt any physical challenge whatsoever in my other classes would be utterly stymied by the idea of improvisation, of coloring outside the lines.  They were so used to being told exactly what to do—and being “successful” at it—that wide-open windows of freedom paralyzed them.  Simply put, they were so focused on “Getting It Right” that not only had they lost the joy of exploring, they were also stumped when asked to be even marginally creative.

Adding to this, having attained the status of “advanced practitioners,” attempting something completely new and spontaneous in class meant they were now exiting their comfort zone.  They risked being awkward and graceless, unable to execute a pose, or even literally toppling over on their mat.  Obviously, none of these qualify as major disasters—except perhaps for their egos!—and yet this willingness to “play” became the class’s distinguishing attraction—or drawback—for students.

Dogs never have this problem.  In the time it takes me to unfasten her leash, Belle can move from heeling patiently by my side to a madcap chase over an empty Evian bottle with my neighbor’s dog Dwayne.  A true master of Play, Belle constantly teaches by example.

Once, just as I decided that the theme of my class was going to be “Staying Present,” I got down on my mat to work out the physical sequence but Belle wouldn’t leave me alone.  She kept nuzzling me, wanting to share her toys.  “Not now…Not now” I kept correcting her, growing increasingly agitated.  “Not Now…Not Now…” I repeated, until I realized how unappealing and “anti-play” a mantra like “Not Now” really is—particularly when I’m prepping a class about “Staying Present.”

Then and there I saw that when it comes to play, how often and in how many different ways I’m actually saying “Not Now” to the flow of life itself.  I still finding myself mired in the mentality that work is everything and that play is secondary, unimportant, and childish.

To her credit as a teacher, Belle’s persistence usually pays off.  She keeps nudging my hands away from the keyboard or nuzzling me on the mat until I acquiesce and toss her toy back and forth a few times.  Ultimately, she’s completely right:  there’s always time for a few spontaneous rounds of fetch.   If I’m not too distracted or self-involved or obsessed with my projects, Belle’s always willing to share her All Day Pass on the Cosmic Playground with me.