©MartaGertiser2016

As I teach on yoga’s ethical system at various studios around the country, I am invariably asked about a real life situation and the pressing question of what to do. Although the situation is always unique, the dilemma has a constant theme: how to be both non-violent and truthful in that particular situation. When I reply, “What a great question; keep asking it,” silence takes over the room. The disappointment in my “non-answer” is palpable.

I am becoming familiar with how much we love answers to the lived experience of our complex relationships. I hear it from others; I know it all too well in myself. It seems like a pervasive inner plea to make life easier by being told what the “right” thing is. But the ready-made solution that answers give tends to cheat us by preventing a deeper dialogue with the complexities these experiences bring us.

On one of my travels, I met a studio owner who shared her experience of conversing with nonviolence and truthfulness when her husband of 10 years suddenly said to her, “Honey, I’m working on myself and I want you to tell me all the things that you see I need to work on.” Wanting to honor his earnestness, yet knowing her response could prove disastrous to their relationship, she wisely asked her spouse to let her think about his request for a few days.

She had no idea what to do, she told me. But she was willing to sit in the chaos of not knowing and the complexity of her spouse’s request. She was willing to reflect on what it would mean to respond from a place where both truthfulness and nonviolence prevailed. She was willing to trust that the question itself would reveal an answer. Eventually she was able to say to her husband, “I’ll tell you what, I will give you three things I think you need to work on and 3 things that are awesome about you.”

She didn’t give her spouse a 10-page list of quirks. Nor did she play it safe by denying his request. She masterfully limited the list to 3 weaknesses and then balanced these weaknesses by including 3 strengths. Being able to sit in the “not knowing” allowed her to tap into a kind, authentic response that had previously been unavailable to her.

Simple answers hold an important place in our lives, but they can also steal opportunities for growth. The next time we hear our inner voice longing for things to be easier, perhaps is the time to welcome the gifts waiting to be discovered if we are willing to sit in the complexity.

©MartaGertiser2015

My Uncle Bill died at the ripe age of 92 in physical pain, mental alertness, and spiritual security. He was considered by many to be a giant of a human being. Shortly before he died, circumstances brought me alone to his bedside where I took the opportunity to seek the wisdom carried by one who had lived long and learned well along the way.

Sitting by my Uncle Bill, I asked him, “What do you regret the most in your life?” His eyes turned reflectively inward as he answered, “I grew up in a community of immigrants from four different countries, all speaking their native language and living out their unique customs. In all the opportunity there was for me to play with children who had come from a country different than my own, I chose instead to play with the German boys because that was what I knew. I could have learned new words, played new games, tasted different food, and made new friends, but I chose to stay ‘with my own kind’. I regret to this day that I missed out on so much.”

It’s hard to convey the tangible heaviness in Uncle Bill’s voice as he spoke; it’s also hard to convey my own surprise that in 92 years of living this would be his biggest regret. But I witnessed the cost to my uncle and I am witnessing it today in a world that seems bent on defending what is familiar and attacking what is different. The resulting wars and suffering speak for themselves.

It is risky to reach across the boundary of difference because difference always carries an unknown outcome, and for whatever reason, unknown outcomes seem to frighten us. It is risky to step out of the circle of familiarity and extend an invitation of friendship. Fear and blame come so much easier for us.

In a world of growing polarities where each group is clinging to its own familiarity, my Uncle Bill’s words still live. They invite us to take the risk and the opportunity to “play with others”.

©MartaGertiser2015

Even though I don’t carry my cell phone with me all the time. Even though I have non-tech hours built into my day. Still, I am amazed by the power that little device holds over me in its insistence to be swiped, clicked, checked, and played with.

It reminds me of the experiments B. F. Skinner did with rats. In one experiment, he created a lever inside a cage for rats to push. By pushing the lever, there was a random possibility that food would appear. What he found was that the rats had a little rush of excitement to the brain each time they pushed the lever, whether food appeared are not. The result was the rats kept pushing the lever.

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The world feels too hot to me. Hot tempers, rash decisions, and revved up speed are warning signs that trouble has found us. Like the gauge in a car warns us when the radiator is over heating, we humans are being warned that the pace we are keeping is non-sustainable and down right destructive.

When the radiator gauge indicates overheating, the sensible thing to do is to pull over to the side of the road and turn the engine off. Stop and let things cool off so the damage can be assessed. If we choose to keep driving, the car is in grave danger of being totaled or in need of expensive repairs.

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MartaGertiser2015

For men, the traditional pant worn in India is a dhoti. A dhoti is one long piece of cloth wrapped around the body from the waist down to the ankles. Although this style provides some freedom of movement, there are certain restrictions placed on the body. One obvious restriction is speed. This garment does not allow a man to walk quickly. That fact alone can change the whole day and demeanor of the man. Because he has to walk slowly, he is able to be more relaxed, more aware, more available to the moment, and more available to life in general. The same can be said of women and their traditional saris.

I live in a culture that prides itself in the freedom of quick movement. In almost an instant I can have whatever I want: any drink of choice, any food of choice, access to temperature control to facilitate my comfort, the ability to order anything I “need” from an online catalog and have it delivered overnight or local access to 24 hour shopping, instant access to information and entertainment for my own pleasure and interest…and the list goes on. In my culture the speed of movement and availability are supposed to make my life easier; they are supposed to make my life enjoyable. But they don’t. In fact, what I notice is how much these things steal my life from me.

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