Many moons ago, I taught elementary school with Teach for America. In the course of this experience, I had the chance to meet the incredible educator and education activist, Curtis Acosta. He taught our group “In Lak’ech”, words I carry with me to this day and words that are directly relevant to our topic today.
In Lak’ech
Tú eres mi otro yo.
You are my other me.
Si te hago daño a ti,
If I do harm to you,
Me hago daño a mi mismo.
I do harm to myself.
Si te amo y respeto,
If I love and respect you,
Me amo y respeto yo.
I love and respect myself.
In Lak’ech is a Mayan greeting that later became part of a poem by Luis Valdez. (These words have great significance in the world of education, but that’s a story for another day.) The message is quite simple: You’re not something outside of me and vice versa.
When I heard Rex say, “We’re not well until we’re all well,” all the bells and whistles started going off for me. It was “In Lak’ech” all over again.
But what does any of that mean? How does it relate to yoga? How can this acknowledgment of the interconnectedness of our being be anything other than overwhelming? I thought we could unpack it today.
Start with yourself
I don’t believe it’s a stretch to say that many of us come to yoga because we’re working on ourselves. There’s no wrong answer to how you wound up practicing. All roads lead to the same place as far as I’m concerned.
After practicing the eight limbs for a time, you might even reach a point where you say, “I’m okay. I’m really okay.” Some practitioners spend their whole lives getting to that point. An investment in yourself is not a waste… even if the work to find stillness is slow going.
You are my other me
You may have noticed that after much work yourself, your feelings toward others change too. As I continued to dedicate myself to the practice, “You are my other me,” echoed back to me in the interactions I had with people in the city.
From the unsheltered person to the lady on the trolley trying to find the right stop to the person shouting obscenities into the din of the city to the young parents trying their best to read their WIC information while also struggling with English to the people rejoicing outside of Petco Park while heading into their first MLB game… I used to tune everyone out on my way to the next thing on my checklist, but now my eyes were opened to them.
This working on oneself can sometimes become a new charge. Now we can see. As we see the world in a new way, there’s a new layer of responsibility. That doesn’t mean that we carry the world by ourselves. It just seems that we’re in a better position to help than we were when we didn’t notice.
How the realization can look
There’s a lot of talk about the environment these days, and I remember I used to look at all the trash floating in the ocean with disgust. At some point during my practice, I realized it could have been my trash floating out there… even if I disposed of it in a trash can initially. I don’t control the wind. What I consume and how I move through the world can change it for better or for worse.
Likewise, I’ve heard about people committing horrible crimes. The part of me grounded in a sense of morality could never imagine doing such things. Then my practice knocks me off my high horse and shows me that if I were subjected to the forces that these perpetrators were subjected to, my actions would not be loving and kind either. It doesn’t excuse the actions, but it did remind me that no one is really above anything if the right circumstances are applied.
For a deeper examination of this idea, I’ll refer you to Thich Nhat Hanh’s “Please call me by my true names.” Some of the concepts discussed in this poem are difficult to hear, but it's a powerful message.
When it's no longer someone else's problem
If the last few years have shown us nothing else, I hope we’ve all seen that what starts out in our minds as some nebulous idea on the other side of the world can quickly become the reality at our doorstep. The inward-turning practices of yoga have paradoxically made me look outward. As long as there are people suffering, there must be other people doing their part to alleviate such suffering. We help when we can, and one day we might be the ones needing the help.
When Rex says, “We’re not well until we’re all well,” that’s what I think of. I think of how the brilliant system that is yoga helped me to suffer less and awakened me to my own responsibility to use my skills (however small they seem) to help others suffer less. There is no turning away in yoga. There’s no plugging one’s ears and covering one’s eyes to the totality of the human experience.
I know this idea of a whole collective of people caring for themselves and caring for the world around them might sound like a pipedream. You’re talking to a former bitter cynic here, though.
I’ve lived all over the place, and everywhere I go, I find these people who embody “We’re not well until we’re all well.” I’ve committed to this practice, and I’ve seen the impact of a single ripple of compassion. You can choose not to turn away from the things that confront your peace, and you may notice that hope is still very much alive. Peace is still available in the present, and maybe it’s even more accessible when everyone has the care they need.
I’m excited to walk in this world with all of you.