To DJ or Not to DJ...That is the Question

Ohhh, how I wish I were a DJ!   I’m not talking about one of those uber-hip, techie geniuses revving up dance floors across the globe.  (Anyone who knows me knows how, to quote Tommy Lee, “sautéed in wrong sauce” that would be!)  No, I want to be one of those old-school, run-of-the-mill, close-to-obsolete DJ’s who just loves tunes and babbles about celebrities and traffic.  After all, I’m chatty.   Marginally obsessed with many genres of music.  And, most importantly, though most days I can’t remember what I had for breakfast, I have an uncanny knack for retaining useful gems like… the fact that Rupert Holmes was the artist behind the “Pina Colada Song.”  I know.  It’s a gift.

The beautiful thing about teaching vinyasa flow yoga is that, if I choose, I can actually pretend to be a DJ on a daily basis.  Two careers in one!  Perhaps double the salary?  If only.   When I first began teaching, I would actually spend hours each week burning yoga-appropriate playlists onto blank CD’s (ok, sometimes I missed the mark on the ‘appropriate’ part).  Then, along came my beloved BFF, the iPod.  A life-changer for a flow teacher!

Alas, twelve years after I began teaching, and probably over 100 playlists later, I am faced daily with internal conflict.  As much as I love music, and as much as it inspires, does it really have a place in yoga classes?  I struggle with the answer to that, and I’m not convinced there’s a right one.  Like many other dilemmas in life, the answer may be, “it depends”.

I had a wonderful mentor who affectionately referred to the thumping, high-energy, musical yoga classes as “the ones that get people in the door”.   This made sense to me.   When I first began my yoga practice, I came from a dance and running background.  I thrived on high-energy and loud music.  It made me want to move.  It brought out emotions that otherwise may have lay dormant.  A teacher’s awesome playlist made me want to return to that teacher’s class.  Likewise, as I embarked on a teaching path, I felt safer when the music was on.  I thought, insecurely, that if my sequence and teaching weren’t good enough that day, maybe they’d like the playlist and come back anyway.  Nothing is better than a depressing, tear-jerking power-ballad in pigeon pose, right?  Music, when carefully selected for a flow class, can be thematic, evocative, and meditative.  It can be an effective teaching tool, if the mood of the playlist matches the journey you’re taking your students on that day.   And, yes, it still gets the yoga-shy in the door.  Isn’t the world a better place when more folks are practicing yoga?

On the other hand, as my own practice and teaching have evolved, I find music to be a distraction.  When we’re on our mats, the whole point is to get still and focus on our breathing.  We are so bombarded with stimuli all day, and what is so healing and calming about yoga is that we can retreat from those stimuli for a little while.

At the moment, turning the music off completely would likely be jarring for my regular students.  I have found a compromise in making my current playlists more ambient and always offering 10-20 minutes of class time sans music.  On recent days when my iPod was on the fritz or temporarily missing, I have wondered, “Is the  Universe trying to tell me something?”  For now, I will continue to play DJ.  And, for those of you frequently asking me to post my music, here are a couple of recent playlists to have some fun with (everything is available on iTunes):

Eternal Dance            9:13   Gabrielle Roth & The Mirrors         

Om Namah Shivaya (Eastern Sun mix) 6:23  Donna De Lory    

Be Set Free     4:00    Josh Garrels  

Shambala       3:41    Beastie Boys  

Nwahulwana (remastered) 6:41    Orchestra Marrabenta        

Crystalised     3:22    The XX           

Under the Milky Way           3:35    Sia                              

Fruits of Labor           7:22    Glen Velez                 

Loka    4:47    Ena Vie          

Yesterday       7:34    Rara Avis       

Corner            4:41    Jai Uttal & The Pagan Love Orchestra

What You Are (Acoustic)      3:33    Jewel                          

Society            3:56    Eddie Vedder                                   

Any Other Name       4:08    Thomas Newman                                         

Bhakti Gita     8:17    Masood Ali Khan      

1000 Suns     4:26    Micheline Berry & Shaman's Dream

My Baba (feat. Krishna Das)           3:47    Trevor Hall    

Bittersweet Symphony         5:58    The Verve     

The Richest Man In Babylon            3:50    Thievery Corporation

Unity   7:19    Glen Velez     

Is Love Enough (feat. Gentleman)  5:08    Michael Franti & Spearhead                                   

Protection      7:53    Massive Attack          

Shambho Mahadeva 8:24    SWAHA                      

Elevator Beat 2:44    Nancy Wilson            

Shanti (Peace Out)   6:59    MC Yogi                      

Super Mario and the Girl Who Listened...

I am not one for political rants.  Growing up, my Mom was a bonafide, card-carrying liberal.  My Dad was the son of a political journalist, so he’s always been about as politically vocal as Switzerland.  I, naturally, landed somewhere in the middle—full of opinions, but reluctant to voice them until provoked.  In the midst of constant election coverage via traditional and social media, I have heard many a rant in the past several months, and I have done my fair share of cringing.  A while back, I heard a recorded Success Magazine interview with Maria Shriver.  Asked why the country has become so divided politically and whether it was irreparable, she said, “I fear that we have lost the ability to listen to each other.”  I fear that she is right.

For some reason, her comment has lingered at the back of my mind.  It seems to me that, when I first became politically aware, Republicans simply believed in big business, small government, and pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps.  Democrats believed in big government and the funding of social services for those who didn’t even have boots to begin with.   When I was 13, I actually remember proudly announcing to my mother that I was a Republican--no doubt to her abject horror.  I have to give Mom credit for nodding and smiling, biting her acerbic little tongue, and patiently waiting for me to find my own way politically.    My 13-year-old self chirped at Mom that, after all, Lincoln was a Republican and he freed the slaves.  Ronald Reagan was a Republican, and he seemed like the nicest, most grandfatherly man, didn’t he?  And, best of all, Republicans always seemed to have a lot of money.  I wanted a lot of money—mostly for clothes.  Therefore, I was definitely a Republican.  Until I wasn’t.

One day in 1984, my parents were watching the Democratic National Convention on TV.  They were busying themselves in the kitchen after dinner, waiting for the big moment when nominee Michael Dukakis (remember him?) would speak.  Mario Cuomo, then governor of New York, was giving the nomination speech that night.  I sat there by myself on the living room floor, Leave-it-to-Beaver-style, staring with an odd fascination at the TV screen.   Mario Cuomo began to speak about education, about welfare, about healthcare, about women's rights, about the common man.  His voice was thundering.  Commanding.  Resolute.  He was articulate, persuasive, confident, fists pumping in the air.  I don’t remember the details of his speech, but I remember that at its heart was a strong commitment to social responsibility and the notion that we must take care of one another—that we are all one.   I was deeply moved, and for the first time, something political made sense to me.  His speech said to me, “Just because you’ve made it in life doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be programs out there to help those that haven’t had the same luck and opportunity.”  I found myself internally cheering him on, this superhero.   Yes!  Yes!  I understand!  Forget video games.  This was the original Super Mario.  I was hooked.  And I knew it was a defining moment.  Funny that I have always looked at my yoga teaching path as something random.  I wonder if the seed was planted that evening, listening to my Super Mario.

Four years later, I was entering my senior year of high school while the country was entering another election year.  At Glastonbury High School, all seniors were required to assemble each morning in the auditorium for a class called Current Issues, affectionately known as CI.  The teachers of our social studies department gave lectures daily on rotation, and we were required each week to read—cover to cover—Time, Newsweek, and US News & World Report.  Sadly, I must admit that my time in that class was probably the most politically informed I have ever been.  We had weekly debates on serious, relevant issues.  I remember a kid named Chris debating on gays in the military, saying he’d “rather have a guy covering his ass than looking at it”.  I also remember a shy, sweet Vietnamese girl named Tram tearfully scolding all 425 of her classmates during a debate on low budget housing.  Many in the room had a snotty, not-in-my-town attitude, while she told us what it was like to be from an immigrant family struggling to make it.  Tram couldn’t have stood more than 4’10” tall, but that day she was a giant, with more backbone and guts than any of the rest of us combined.  To this day, I am so grateful for the gift of that CI class; it taught me how important it is to stay informed and to truly listen to both sides of an argument before mouthing off.  It taught me that political and social issues are complex and emotional, and that it’s alright to disagree.

Inspired by my memories, with Maria Shriver’s comment still nagging at me, I decided several weeks ago to get informed--really informed-- for this election.  I set an intention to listen.  I watched both conventions.  I watched a CNN special on Mitt Romney.  I have read articles from both sides of the political spectrum.  I have even (gulp), watched a few minutes of Fox News.  A few minutes were all I could actually handle without a far stiffer cocktail than I had handy.  But hey, I did try.  Has anything changed my political views?  No.  Watching the other side has pushed every button I have.   I have cringed, eye-rolled, and yelled.  I will still vote for Obama.  I am still afraid of Paul Ryan.  What I am, however, is more tolerant of the other side.  My frustration and disapproval have softened.  I understand that likely many of my Republican friends have, at some point, had their own Super Mario moment, when a voice deep inside said, “this is what I believe to be right.”  If anything, listening to both sides has—to quote every president in recent memory—“strengthened my resolve” to stay informed, to listen and absorb, and to make an effort to understand other points of view.    I have realized that if I vote from an informed, tolerant, issue-based place, I have done my part in the best way that I can.  Yoga is not about being Switzerland.  Yoga is about action.  It’s about standing up for your convictions and being respectful of others and theirs.  It’s about discovering your own truths and not being afraid to speak them, in a mindful, non-harming way.  Sometimes, my yoga practice is about finding my voice and using it as wisely as possible.  This fall, however, my yoga practice is all about listening.  What a peaceful vantage point it has turned out to be.