About Marilyn Russell

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So far Marilyn Russell has created 25 blog entries.

Who Gets to Speak and Sing?

by Vivek Anand

A song is sung, and as a lyric it is also written. It is written in a voice. This voice tells us who is speaking, declaring their sentiments to the world. Whose voice gets heard the most? Sometimes we hear a lover or a devotee, one who praises, complains, laments. Sometimes we hear an anonymous voice which describes a beautiful or painful world, a voice which aspires for a better earth or heaven. And then sometimes we hear the call of a bird, the groan of the earth, the cry of the one who is crushed, a taunt by someone taking a risk in criticizing a king.

Sometimes the clay speaks to the potter:

Maati kahey kumhaar se, tu kyon raundhey mohey?
Ik din aisaa aayegaa, main raundhongi tohey!

And what does the potter’s clay say? In the above song by the 15th Century mystic Kabir, the raw clay says to the one kneading it: Why do you crush me? The day will come when I will crush you! The tables have been turned, and we are reminded that our human forms are ephemeral, that one day we too will be clay. In another song Kabir writes: Ghat ghat me panchhi boltaa. In every clay pot the bird speaks. He reminds us that despite our varying shapes, a bird, perhaps the same one, calls out from each beating heart.

The material being wrought by the craftsperson is not always expected to speak! In the Daoist text the Chuang-Tzu, translated by Stephen Mitchell, there is this line in a story about accepting ones transformation without comment:

When a skilled smith is casting metal, if the metal should leap up and say, ‘I insist upon being made into a Mo-yeh (famous sword)!’ he would surely regard it as very inauspicious metal indeed.

Songs such as a thumri, a romantic or seductive song sung by courtesans to their patrons, often have a teasing or taunting tone; they sometimes voice a complaint. This complaint is often about the unfeeling and heartless lover or about a king.

Sometimes a courtesan sings a thumri, and complains about the lover being gone all night, about the lover being cruel towards the one who pines for them. But the singer can also ask about the insensitivity of the powerful towards others who suffer:

In pairon taley, kaun kuchlaa jaa rahaa hai, morey rajaji?
Koi dekhey paavan paanv, dekhey ek nirdosh jeev ka ghaanv
Mori najariya, morey Nataraja, mori maiyya.

In the above version, a somewhat subversive thumri written by me, the singer asks the authority figure – king, a god or goddess: who are these feet squelching, pressing into the earth, my raja? Some see holy feet, but my eyes see the wound of an innocent being, my Lord of Dance, my Mother.

The question is about iconography, stories and societal practices such as caste and discrimination in which a figure is portrayed as being vanquished by the powerful, and where this is always valorized. The tradition has many answers, some metaphorical, some leaning on context. The uncomfortable questions can still be asked, both from within the traditions and from outside them, by those who benefit from the hierarchies and by those who are targeted by them.

The tone of the questioning singer is respectful, yet challenging. It is a humble inquiry perhaps. A worthy teacher is certainly to be approached humbly, but as in the Bhagavad Gita Chapter 4, Verse 34, part of the service includes asking questions, prashna.

Swami Chinmayananda’s translation of the verse goes:

Know that by long prostration, by question, and service, the wise who have realised the Truth will instruct you in (that) Knowledge.

Tad viddhi pranipaatena pariprashnena sevayaa
Upadekshyanti te jnaanam jnaaninas tattva darshinah

In other songs which I sing an anonymous person asks the kokila songbird to sing because the honeyed season has arrived, asks it to make the earth resound with its call. Or, one sings of the beautiful dark god, Shyam  Sundara, who dances with the cowherdesses, while one hears the sound of musical instruments and ankle bells.

In another, the 13th Century Sufi and master musician Hazrat Amir Khusrau sings to his teacher Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya:

Chhaap tilak sab chheen li, mosey naina milaykey

You snatched away my identity and my forehead mark by meeting eyes with mine. This sung declaration is about love and surrender, about dissolving divisions. This is simultaneously self-effacing and a call to remove hierarchies.

When we are open to the voice of the clay, the cry of the one underfoot, the complaint of the lover, they have much to say.

Join Vivek on Saturday, May 16 at 7:00 PM in a classical vocal concert: The Clay Speaks – Maati Kahey

2026-05-02T09:49:30-07:00May 2nd, 2026|Tags: , , |

How Hatha Yoga Can Impact Our Minds and Transform Our Lives

by Rukmini Ando

I fell in love with Hatha Yoga at first sight. The experience of being at ease, even for a few moments, for the first time in years, was so impactful that I unknowingly made a vow to practice it for the rest of my life. Years later, I discovered Integral Yoga and learned about its six branches: Hatha, Raja, Bhakti, Jnana, Japa, and Karma. Hatha Yoga, the most well-known branch, is a powerful tool for cultivating awareness—not just in physical postures, but in everyday life.

In an asana, when we focus our minds on the sensations in our bodies and the flow of our breath, time slows down. Our bodies may seem still, but our minds are often racing. As we practice, we notice the mind wandering: anticipating movements, comparing ourselves to others, wishing for more flexibility or strength, dealing with memories that for some reason come up. Despite the internal chaos, something magical happens when we show up and follow the teachers’ instructions. We become more able to relax, breathe, and maybe even find peace.

As we continue to practice, we start to accept and honor our bodies’ limitations, we can let go of comparing ourselves to others and even with our past self, we become more aware of our thoughts, our attention in our body and breath strengthens, and we finally feel more present, we finally feel ourselves, we finally feel our own presence, our True Self. Little by little, we become more able to notice spaces between thoughts, pauses between breaths, and stillness beneath the surface. The physical postures become a gateway to inner awareness, teaching us to approach our mental and emotional boundaries with curiosity and compassion. We learn to observe our thoughts and emotions without getting swept away every single time. 

This awareness can translate to our daily lives. We can become more able to notice triggers for stress and anxiety, to learn to respond rather than react. We can develop more acceptance and detachment, navigating challenges with more ease and clarity. Hatha yoga has the potential to help us listen to our inner wisdom, honor our limitations, and embrace the present moment.

Move With Ease: Hatha Yoga for Hip Mobility & Lower Body

Join Rukmini Saturday, April 25th – 11 AM – 1 PM PT

2026-04-22T17:56:56-07:00April 22nd, 2026|

A Yogic Guide to Inner and Outer Renewal

Swami Ramananda

by Swami Ramananda

Spring marks a sacred transition—when the dark, dormant days of winter give way to light, warmth, and new growth. With the intention of making space for fresh perspective and new ways of blooming, we can consciously embrace the tradition of spring cleaning during this season.

From a yogic perspective, cleanliness extends to every level of our being: the environments we inhabit, the physical body we care for, and the subtle inner spaces of the heart and mind. Spring offers an ideal opportunity to declutter our homes and purify the body, aligning ourselves with the renewing energies of the season. In this way, spring cleaning becomes more than a household task—it is the release of accumulated burdens that encumber our lives and obscure our natural vitality.

Fasting, when approached with awareness and moderation, can support this process of renewal. It allows the body to rest, reset, and eliminate toxins that inhibit our capacity to thrive. There are many gentle ways to engage in this practice, each honoring individual needs. Even something as simple as skipping an evening meal can give the body time to cleanse and restore itself overnight.

Yet the deeper work of spring cleaning takes place within. The patterns of selfish thinking and reactive behavior leave subtle impressions in the mind and energy body, constricting the heart and limiting our capacity to experience love. When we live with the constant pressure to secure happiness, prove our worth, or win the approval of others, we create an undercurrent of tension that disturbs our inner balance.

In this deeper sense, spring cleaning calls us to recommit to practices that quiet the mind and restore us to an inner ground of peace. Through meditation and mindful awareness, we begin to loosen our identification with restless thoughts and reconnect with a stillness that is inherently whole. In that stillness, the lake of the heart becomes clear and expansive, revealing our natural connection to all of life. From this space, our actions—and more importantly, the intentions behind them—can realign with deeper spiritual values.

Instead of striving to gain love or happiness, we discover fulfillment in offering ourselves through compassion and service. We learn to forgive, releasing the subtle poisons of resentment and ill will that weigh upon the heart. We open to moments of wonder by being fully present, and cultivate gratitude for the countless blessings that often go unnoticed.

All of these practices help us shed the physical, emotional, and mental weight that burdens our being. With this awareness, we can recognize the habits and thought patterns that no longer serve us and consciously choose to let them go. In doing so, we create space—not only in our homes, but within ourselves—for a more peaceful mind and a more joyful, open heart.

 

2026-04-05T18:44:35-07:00April 6th, 2026|

From Map to Compass: How Sāṃkhya and the Yoga Sūtras Clicked for Me

by Kealoha DeLuz

I’ve been diving deep into the Yoga Sūtra for the past six or seven years, and it’s been nothing short of life changing. Patañjali’s framework—the aṣṭāṅga, or eight limbs—offers such profound structure and guidance. For a long time, though, working with the Sūtras felt a bit like navigating without a complete map. I knew the direction, but the foundational why was sometimes elusive. Recently, I started exploring Sāṃkhya philosophy—the tradition closely related to Patañjali’s work—and suddenly, something clicked. Learning about Sāṃkhya helped me understand the roots of these ideas, where they originated, and how they fit together. It’s like having the complete blueprint in front of you. Once I understood the bigger picture, my practice with the Yoga Sūtras felt less like walking in the dark and more like navigating with a clear compass.

Sāṃkhya, often attributed to the ancient sage Kapila, is one of the oldest schools of Indian thought, and it serves as the ultimate philosophical bedrock for yoga. It’s not a religion; it’s a profound, methodical way of analyzing existence through a dualistic view of reality. Sāṃkhya posits two eternal, ultimate principles. First, there is Puruṣa: this is pure consciousness—the unchanging, eternal, and countless individual Selves (the soul). It is the silent witness, the observer of all creation. Second, there is Prakṛti: this is primordial matter—the active, creative principle. It’s the source of everything we can perceive and experience: our bodies, our minds, our emotions, and the entire material world. Prakṛti is dynamic and composed of three fundamental qualities, or guṇas: Sattva (lucidity, balance), Rajas (passion, activity), and Tamas (inertia, darkness). All the suffering we experience, according to Kapila’s wisdom, stems from one crucial error: our mistaken identification of our true self (Puruṣa) with the ever-changing products of Prakṛti. The goal is to achieve kaivalya, or liberation, by realizing the distinct and isolated nature of Puruṣa from the material world.

While Kapila’s Sāṃkhya provides this essential theoretical foundation—the what and the why—it lacks a specific, practical methodology for achieving liberation. This is precisely where Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtra steps in. Patañjali didn’t invent yoga; he brilliantly codified and systematized existing practices, using Sāṃkhya as his philosophical map. His famous definition of yoga, “yogaś chitta vṛtti nirodhaḥ” (Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind), directly reflects Sāṃkhya’s principles. The “fluctuations of the mind” are a product of Prakṛti. By stilling them, one creates the necessary condition for discriminative knowledge to dawn, allowing us to experience the authentic, unchanging self, Puruṣa.

Patañjali’s eight limbs of yoga (Aṣṭāṅga Yoga) serve as the practical, step-by-step method to achieve this state. From the external practices of ethical living (yamas and niyamas) and physical postures (āsana) to the internal practices of concentration and meditation (dhyāna and samādhi), the entire path is an applied framework for realizing the metaphysical truth posited by Kapila. In essence, Sāṃkhya is the grand map of reality, detailing the landscape of consciousness and matter. At the same time, Patañjali’s Yoga is the GPS, providing the step-by-step directions to navigate that landscape and reach the destination of liberation. For me, understanding this enduring partnership has made my own journey with the Sūtras exponentially richer and clearer. It truly is a comprehensive and powerful system for self-realization.

Have you experienced a similar moment where understanding the philosophy made the practice “click”? I’d love to hear about it!

2026-03-17T10:36:13-07:00March 17th, 2026|
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