Pictures for this day: Set 1 | Set 2

There’s a saying that goes something like: “It’s just like riding a bike; once you learn, you never forget.” I would like to, from personal experience, question the validity of that statement. I have discovered that you can indeed forget how to ride a bike, and that this forgetting can, awkwardly, occur when you are visiting a small southeast Asian country whose capital is Phnom Penh.

Ahem.

I ended yesterday at 1:00 in the afternoon. I feel asleep quite deeply and woke up feeling refreshed at 12:30 AM. While I am sure there are things to do at 12:30 AM in Siem Reap, I was not prepared to try them. Determined to return to sleep, I rolled over and willed myself into sleep, clearly demonstrating my own lack of adherence to the yoga principles I teach. If any of my students are reading this, remember: you cannot relax the mind with the mind! Since poor beginnings usually have poor endings, I could not get back to sleep. I arose from bed at around 2:00 AM and decided to use the clarity of mind associated with the morning hour to do some writing on raja yoga. For those who are wondering why I am doing this, it is for a workbook for a yoga immersion I am teaching in Lodi in 2009. I am also planning on doing said immersion in Sacramento, and am available to teach it anywhere else on the planet as well. Shameless plug ends here.

At around 4:30 I decided I would do the tourist thing and head to Angkor Wat to watch the sunrise. Now, if you read my somewhat acerbic post yesterday, you will know that I was a tad disenchanted with Siem Reap upon first looks. In response to my burgeoning awareness that I would be at the mercy of men with motorbikes for the rest of the journey, I decided to check on a bicycle rental for the remainder of my trip. I enquired at the front desk regarding one, and the very friendly front desk attendant told me that it would cost $5 a day. Having consulted Lonely Planet, who indicated $1 – $2 at most, I decided to raise this point. I was told that I would be “insured” if I paid for the bike. Hmmmm. Well, I quickly did the Siem Reap/Angkor Wat math in my head. $2 per moto ride. At the very least that would equate to $4 a day. So, for one more dollar, I could have complete freedom, and I would also get some exercise. I opted to say yes to the bicycle.

So at 4:45 AM, I stepped outside my room and requested my bicycle. Once again, I had a vision of a new Giant or Schwinn bike being paraded around like a prized horse. Instead, I was presented with a rather flimsy road bike. My exotic travel persona was not pleased. But freedom doesn’t have to look pretty-it just has to be free (or $5)-so I hopped on and started to bike. Much to my horror, I almost fell off. This was humiliating! So proud of my attempts to be both eco-conscious and blend in with the Khmer people; now I was just “that humiliated white guy.” I cursed the person who said that riding a bike was something that could not be forgotten. Finally, I got my bike legs and started off towards Angkor Wat.

While I realized that it was dark-I was going to see the sunrise at Angkor, after all-I had not realized that darkness also meant “not able to see the road.” Within town, local lights cast a good light to ride by. But by the time I started to head out of town, I realized that it was pitch black out there. Fortunately, many cars and tuk tuks were heading out to the temple, so I could ride by their artificial light. I arrived at the crossroads at which one turns left to get to Angkor without incident. Feeling overly secure, I then almost lost it into a ditch immediately at the turn off to Angkor. Deprecating myself to anyone who could hear, I got myself right and headed off to Angkor.

I suppose its worth mentioning that during this entire ride, I felt entirely safe. The interesting thing about driving in Cambodia is that everyone knows that there are no rules. Consequently, everyone is paying attention, and has a kind of internal sense of when to go and when to slow down. Everything flows with a kind of grace; go with it, and everything is fine. I had noticed this flow from the back of motos, and so now I just went with it.

I arrived at Angkor with no incident, and locked my bike onto a pole. An idea that it might not be there when I got back did cross my mind, but I didn’t really worry about it. I started to head towards the temple, enjoying the nascent dawn starting to outline the towers. I wandered across the causeway, and immediately walked over to the statue of Vishnu. Three young boys were there, and their faces looked quite a bit surprised at my presence, particularly when I fell to my knees and pressed my palms into anjali mudra. I closed my eyes and simply sat in the presence of Vishnu. One of the boys cleared his throat, and so I opened my eyes. He offered me to take some incense. He mimed the movement of the incense, “One. Two. Three.” I took three of the sticks and moved them in the appropriate fashion, before placing them into the pot. I continued to kneel there in prayer, which I think also surprised them. As I sat there, I felt the emotions beginning to rise again. However, I also knew that I was in a prime movement zone for tourists, so I moved to the corner of the room and folded my legs into sukhasana and meditated with my eyes closed.

As I sat there, I began to feel the tears rising in my eyes. Across my chest I felt a familiar band of tension. I continued to sit with it, feeling nothing in particular, but aware of the rising and falling of something inside of me. At one point, the youngest boy-I felt it to be the youngest boy because my eyes were closed-started to sing. I had no idea if he was reciting a Buddhist prayer or singing a pop song, but I felt myself starting cry harder and harder. My eyes were closed, but I was sure both the three young boys (and the tourists) were somewhat astounded by the sight of this Westerner, sitting cross-legged in the corner of a room, meditating and weeping. As I sat, my thoughts rose and fell, moving from the banal to fragment of chants to Vishnu in his incarnation of Rama, and the associated incarnations of Sita and Hanuman. From time to time, streams of tears would flow down my cheeks, and would then ebb.

After awhile, I opened my eyes. One of the young boys smiled at me, and I smiled back. I continued to gaze upon Vishnu. One of the boys, dressed in a saffron robe, sat in the window sill, the left side of his face covered by part of his covering. A Buddhist nun swept the floor with a broom, stooped over, her brown face shriveled, but kind. Eventually I stood up, two of the children still watching me. I went over to the feet of Vishnu, and rubbed the dust from his feet on my forehead three times and then took my hands to my heart. This is gesture that I adopted from watching others, and from the ancient wisdom that says that we polish our hearts with dust from our guru’s feet. I left the chamber and walked out into the area of the main walkway.

As I stood there, I understood what I was looking for coming here. I was looking to be cracked open. People close to me know that I consider myself a bhakti yogin. I am drawn to the path of loving the divine, and using the stories of Hanuman, Sita, and Ram, and the kirtan and chanting as a way to achieve yoga. Inside, I often feel so deeply moved by the chanting that I hear that it draws tears to my eyes. I remember weeping loudly when talking with Patrick early in our relationship about my desire to be like Hanuman, and how short I fell of his wondrous and deep devotion and love to God. As I sat there in the presence of Vishnu, I could feel the familiar tightness around my heart-a hardness that has lived there for some time. I know that this space inside of me is this great well of emotion held back by a dam that I never remember building but that I think has been there for many years. I so wanted it to burst, to feel inside of myself anything, anything at all akin to that deep longing and ocean of love that I sing to, read about, and try to connect with. What I felt when that young boy sung was a purity and innocence that I longed to feel inside, that could unleash the greatness of my heart so that I could love more deeply and longer than I had ever before.

I joined the meandering tourists, walking quietly to the room of 1000s buddhas. When I was there yesterday, I had noticed the large statue of buddha in that room, and I wanted to pay homage. When I arrived, I went over to the statue and kneeled down. A young boy and Buddhist nun sat there; the young boy watching me, and the nun preparing the space. I pressed my hands into anjali mudra, and kneeled in quiet. After a few minutes, I felt a desire to chant “Om Mani Padme Hum.” I unwound my mala from my wrist, and did 108 repetitions of the chant, after which I chanted “gate gate paragate parasamgate boddhi swaha,” a traditional mantra associated with the Buddha.

After I opened my eyes, I proceeded to try to light some incense. The nun took them from me gently and lit them for me, and then gave them back to me. I performed that same gesture as I did at Vishnu, and then placed them in the sand. She then grabbed another incense stick, lit it, and handed it to me with a smile, her brown cheeks shining and her eyes filled with what I felt to be great kindness. I took the proffered incense with gratitude, and waved it over me a few times, and then placed it in the sand. I then bowed down to the earth, and got up. As I walked the young boy watched me with an intention that I could not interpret. I wandered out into the sunlight and into the grassy area that separated the main building from the outermost square that held the large bas relief panels. I spent some time scaling into the small buildings in this area, deciding to take some pictures of the various carvings and statues.

Angkor Wat has several recurring architectural themes. One of them is apsaras, heavenly nymphs. One might jokingly call Angkor Wat “Apsara Village” for they are everywhere. There is also images of flames, often with a picture of meditating holy man (called an essai). These flames are there to purify pilgrims who walk through the temples. I wandered through, viewing the carvings, and stopping to investigate some that held particular interest for me. I was viewing them mostly for inspiration for yoga, but their body positions were relatively constant: caught mid-dance in a position that reminded me of something from the Bharatha Natyam. I wandered the halls, taking pictures.

Eventually, I made my way to the bas-relief walls. These walls are extended depictions of scenes from Vedic myth, with one wall given over the life and times of the ancient Khmer ruler who built the temple. I found images of my beloved Hanuman holding his friend Rama in his battle against Ravana. I also found Hanuman helping Churn the Ocean of Milk. I was disappointed to not see Lakshmi popping out of the ocean, but I might have missed it. The iconography is very similiar to Vedic art, but not precisely. Hanuman, in particular, looks a little bit fiercer, and less human, then in the Hindu representations. I found Yama, the lord of the dead, and the depictions of heaven and hell, and a scene from the Mahabharata, where the Pandava and Kaurava armies clashed on the field of Kurukshetra. It would be impossible in one short viewing to notice all the details in that temple, so I didn’t try. I would undoubtedly be going back, so I wanted to enjoy the overall sweep of the images.

I spent a couple of hours at Angkor before deciding to set off up the road to locate the next temple. My bike was right where I left it, and so with a light heart, I hopped on. I definitely enjoy the freedom of having a bike! I headed off to Bayon and Baphuon. The directions were well marked, and so I was off at a good clip to the temples. As enjoyable as walking was, bike riding was many times better. As I got closer to the temple, I noticed the opportunity for a elephant rides, traditional way of entering Bayon and Baphuon. Making a mental note for later, I rode into the temple complex.

Compared to Angkor Wat, Baphuon looks like a ruin. I jokingly said to myself that it looked under construction. I wasn’t planning on stopping that morning, so I just rode around the temple. There were some beautiful, enormous Buddha statues in the area that I admired from my bicycle. I looped back and through, heading back towards Angkor Wat and town.

It was during this return trip that I discovered the one downside of biking-the incredible pollution from cars and motorbikes. I have never had a problem with breathing before, but I could feel my lungs starting to get a little constricted from breathing the carbon monoxide fumes, and the smoke from burning leaves and cooking fires. A nascent headache started as well, perhaps as much from sunburn and dehydration as the pollution. Nevertheless, I had an easy and enjoyable ride back to town, and returned to Hanumanalaya for breakfast.

Having brave as much sun as I wanted to get that day, I decided to relax at the hotel and get some writing done. One of the other things I realized the previous day was that I needed to slow down. I was so concerned about running out of things to do and see that I forgot that I had the option of just doing nothing. This, in a way, was strangely liberating. Freed from a sense that I was wasting time or money by not doing everything that I could possibly do, I allowed myself to enjoy the solitude of my hotel room, and write about the ethical principles in raja yoga.

After a while, I decided to continue this experience poolside. After a few minutes, another guest that I had noticed over the last two days came over and sat down next to me. Her name was Marian (I think), and we had a wonderful discussion. She is Belgian, and a former flight attendant. This was her first trip to Cambodia, but she had been to both Kerala and Iceland, two places that I intensely want to visit. We chatted about her experience and my experience in Cambodia, and ended up having a far ranging chat about everything from racial and ethnic issues in Belgium and the US, her background in the airline industry, and a few other things. She introduced me to a very nice little drink-soda water and lime juice. Very tasty, and very refreshing. Our discussion ended when her food arrived, and she was off to learn how to dance like an Apsara.

I stayed poolside a little longer, until my battery ran down, and then headed back to my room, where I proceeded to finish up my writing on the five yamas. After that, I decided to head into downtown Siem Reap. I grabbed my bike and off I went. I had only a vague idea of how to get where I wanted to go, but I had Lonely Planet, so I was unafraid. I made one wrong turn, but figured out my mistake, and turned around, and headed off in the appropriate direction. Without much trouble I found my way to where I wanted to be. I rode around a bit, just to check out the area, and then settled at the Kama Sutra for dinner. A delicious mango lassi, chai, and chicken thali arrived without much delay. I ate facing the street, watching the tourists walk by. I must admit, I felt a sense of being an old salt as I watched them wander. These poor people, dependent on tuk tuks and motorbikes, wandering around trying to figure out what to do. I had to laugh at myself. I also had a chance to talk with an Indian gentlemen who appeared to be overseeing the restaurant (he was in fact the accountant). Turns out he was originally from Kerala. We chatted briefly about the beauty of Southern India, and then he melted back into the restaurant.

After dinner, I checked out the Blue Pumpkin, a shop filled with excellent sweets, pastries, and shakes. I didn’t buy anything-I was stuffed from dinner. So I hopped on my bicycle and headed back into town. Again, I had no idea where I was going, but I tried follow my memory of where my moto driver went yesterday. I made it back to Hanumanalaya without incident. And here I am now writing this entry.

Tomorrow will bring another morning with Vishnu and Buddha at Angkor Wat, and then on to Baphuon before the sunrise to investigate it. Then I think I will camp out in Siem Reap for the day, and enjoy the tourist watching, and writing about the niyamas. Perhaps too I will write the short section on preparing to begin a yoga practice. For now, however, I think I shall read a book, or listen to a podcast of Speaking of Faith. I started one this morning on the Buddha as radical social thinker. I might just finish that one tonight or hold off until tomorrow.

It was about 8:30 PM when Dr. B and I left the faculty lounge to head home for the night. As we walked out, a student was at the front desk, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Dr. B addressed the student, and commented on his lack of a Bryan College polo or t-shirt. The student said that laundry was too expensive. Dr. B responded that he would be happy to bring in a few quarters for the student. The student seemed surprised by this. Dr. B said that just as people would judge him based on the success of his clients, Dr. B evaluated his success based on the success (and appearance) of his students. He summed up the dialogue with “when you are successful, I’m successful.”

A Million Opportunities for Happiness
This is not a new idea, of course. The Dalai Lama once said to a group of monks, “if I am only happy for myself, I have just one source of happiness. If I am happy for the happiness of others, then are millions of opportunities for happiness.” Many spiritual and secular leaders have noted that our ability to be happy for others is one of the greatest sources of happiness within ourselves. Marshall Rosenberg, the founder of Non-Violent Communication, cites a childhood experience that reflects this point as one of the key starting points for NVC. He noted that his uncle always had a smile on his face while caring for Marshall’s ailing grandmother. From this, among other experiences, Rosenberg deduced that one of the sources of human satisfaction was the knowledge that we had help others connect to what was alive within them.

Dr. B’s comment struck me as being both wise and unusual. Certainly, it had a ring of impracticality. Would he be able to give quarters to EVERY student who couldn’t do his or her laundry? What if they had problems with gas? Would he bring in $50 to help the student get to school. While the answer seemed right, how truly right was it?

Influence, Not Power
These questions are probably germane and relevant. However, they completely miss the point of what Dr. B was doing at a deeper level with this student. He was demonstrating the difference between influence and power. This is a critical idea within servant-based leadership; in fact, it is the cornerstone of servant-based leadership.

In his sometimes overbearing, yet provocative, presentation of servant-based leadership, James Hunter invokes the image of several historically powerful figures-Jesus, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Mother Theresa. Each of them, he notes, had no power. They had no great armies, they had no ability to force others to do their will. What they instead had was influence. Through the power of their own convictions and their own inner quality, they drew others to them. While it is true that Adolph Hitler, for example, did much the same thing, the key difference was what they then asked of their followers. Gandhi amassed thousands to protest the salt tax imposed by the British empire in an act known as satyagraha. While historians generally agree that the protest had little immediate impact, it is notable that one of its deep impacts was the recognition that Britain’s rule of India was predicated almost entirely on the acceptance of that rule. In other words: the power of the British over India existed only as long as the Indians allowed it to exist.

Old style management (and teaching) techniques rely on power. Much like the British, this style of management is entirely based on the acceptance of that power by subordinates. One of the key shifts that is occurring in the current young adult generation is a total rejection of power as a management strategy. In fact, as James Hunter notes, most young people will immediately react in a negative way to the use of outright power to manage a situation. Whether this is good or bad is irrelevant-it is a fact of this generation. Trying to use or exist in a power-based model will only result in defiance. “Do this because I say so” exacts from them the exact opposite behavior.

When Power Fails…
When management techniques based on power fail, the only other real option is influence. Influence, however, is often misunderstood. It is not, “do this for me and I’ll give you a cookie.” That’s bribery, not influence. The dictionary defines “influence” as “the capacity to have an effect on the character, development, or behavior of someone or something.” Influence is an internal quality of a leader, not a external action.

Power is difficult to leave behind because we are taught continuously that power is everything. But our language is also charged with “power” as an impersonal force that leaves us powerless, or worse, not responsible for the things that happen to us or others. The phrase “the powers that be” is probably most often invoked to indicate a decision with which we disagree, but nevertheless are required to follow. Power is also a fairly useless commodity when there is no one on whom to exercise it or over which to wield it. Donald Trump has power because all of his employees have bought into the idea that he has power. Beyond that, he’s pretty much an average guy with a good suit and bad hair.

Trying to exercise power over any form of subordinate is usually unsuccessful, as it motivates someone out of fear. Fear is a powerful motivator for a time. But without threats of continual punishment and without continuous carry through on those threats, fear rarely can be sustained. As fear wanes, motivation wanes, and the subordinate returns to his or her old behavior. And so the cycle begins again.

Agape as True Power
What is the element behind influence that is different than power? I found the answer to this question incredibly insightful. In the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 22, verses 36 – 40, Jesus delivers his famous lines on “love thy neighbor as yourself.” The original Greek for this is: “agaphseiv ton plhsion sou wv seauton.”

Here’s an interesting thing about the Greek language and the word “love.” Greek has three main words for love: eros, philia, and agape. The first two words denote “erotic” or romantic love and “brotherly” or “communal” love (think Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love). Neither of these Greek words appear in the Bible. The third word, agape, and the root of agaphseiv above, connotes a love that is given equally to all, that is unselfish in its generosity.

Based on this definition of agape, one way to translate the original Greek phrase might be: “Hold your neighbor in your heart as you do yourself.” In other words, as you wish for yourself, wish for others. In this admonition is the seed of what constitutes leadership, and what motivated Dr. B’s comment to that student. When we lead from a perspective of agape, we realize that the misfortune and success of others is a reflection of our ability to accept them as reflections of ourselves.

Signs of Agape in Leadership
Knowing this is all well and good, but how will we know that we’ve achieved this level of leadership? First of all, this level of leadership is incredibly challenging to reach, but not impossible. Challenging, because we have all learned that leadership is power; not impossible, because most of us also understand that when others act out of agape, we feel the difference in their responses to us.

When we lead through agape, through servant leadership, others around us will see two things in their actions. They will recognize that way in which we have shaped within them positive behavior, and credit us for it. Second, they will recognize the behaviors that do not serve them out of a desire to improve, not out of shame. The first recognition is marked by a student coming up to us and saying, “look what I accomplished! I couldn’t have done it without you!” The second recognition comes when student says, “I know I should have reacted differently in that situation. What can I do next time?”

I think it’s safe to say that if we heard the second one we would keel over from cardiac arrest in surprise. But I think it’s also safe to say that we ourselves might be challenged to do this second part in situation where we ourselves can chose shame over self-growth. This is the curse of our power-based thinking. When we chose shame or defiance over self-growth, we have really “em-powered” the person with whom we are talking or working. Most of our students hear power in what we say to them, and usually, they are right. If we instead we chose behaviors out of the desire to grow, and the insistent and persistent perspectives that others wish that growth for us, we begin ourselves to move from a servant leader perspective. When we move from a servant leader in ourselves, than this naturally exhibits itself in our interactions with other human beings.

What I Hope Will Happen
Here’s what I hope happens next. Dr. B will bring in those quarters for the student — because he said he would. The student will wear his Bryan College polo, and proudly show Dr. B that he is wearing it. Dr. B will smile and nod, and say, “Great job! I’m sure your pride in your appearance, and in this school will keep you motivated to wear that polo. And, if that ever fails, know that at the very least, I’ll smile every time I see you in one.”

I’m not a betting man, but I’m willing to bet a couple of laundry quarters that both Dr. B and this student are going to be changed from this interaction. If I’m wrong, I’m out a few quarters. If I’m right, I’ve got one more person who will perpetuate for himself, his family, and his community the benefits of his pride in himself, his school, and his future.

Seems like a good bet to me.

I am very lucky as a homosexual male that I have rarely felt unsupported by those close to me.  Tonight I faced driving past a group of people holding “Yes on Proposition 8″ banners.  One of the (many) groups was holding a pride flag that had been written on with a message that was not supportive of gays and lesbians.  As my partner and I sat at the red light hearing the chanting of the groups, I thought to myself, “I will never have the opportunity to do the same to them.”

The Conundrum of Staying in the Place of the Heart

Neem Karoli Baba, a great Indian saint and bhakta, said, “Do what you must do with a person, but never put them out of your heart.”  As I looked at the group, I noticed most of them were young, perhaps too young to vote.  I also began to project that many of them were of Slavic descent, which connected to my perception that many of the Russian churches organize their members in anti-gay events.  My partner said, “they have a right to their opinion.”  My agitation and annoyance now spread to him for doing what I perceived as supporting them.  I started to become very physically hot and uncomfortable, as if any moment any one of them might have walked up to the car and started to verbally attack me.

I held a lot of anger in my heart towards these people.  I felt judged, personally attacked.  Of course, nothing about their actions was directed towards me specifically.  However, their message was directed towards a group with whom I identify and feel that I belong.

As I sat there, I began to realize that, although these people were taking action to limit my rights and abilities, I would never be in a position to limit their rights and abilities.  I would never, I thought, be able to pass some legislation that would make them feel as powerless as I did at that moment.  I would never be able to attack the core of who they are, and render them completely speechless with the virulence of my opinion, of my hatred towards them.

The Process

It is easy to believe that spiritual people should always be in a space of love, that we must accept everyone.  I don’t think this is true.  What I believe is that we must be able to respect the right of others, to not judge them, but be able to disagree with their opinions.  This is incredibly hard work.  I cannot feel, on a instinctual level, anything but anger towards people who would seek to limit my choices.  My NVC experience and focus tells me that anger is the result of a need not being met.  I know what need that is: the need to be recognized and to be acknowledged.

The people waving signs asking for Californians to “respect the sanctity of marriage” by defining it as “a union between a man and a woman” are acting out of fear.  I could spend pages writing about the paradox of this statement—including the fact that the greatest threat to the sanctity of marriage is heterosexual divorce and the sanctity of marriage is created by how people exist in it, not WHO gets to be in it—but it is irrelevant to the fact that their fear threatens my sense of self.  What a strange statement, when we look at it, isn’t it?  Why is it that their fear threatens my sense of self, my sense of safety?

As we drove away from the light and the crowds, I had to process a huge number of feelings.  The foremost, of course, was anger.  I knew that I couldn’t been angry at these people and get to a productive place.  I also knew that I wasn’t going to take the time to stop and connect to them.  I wasn’t ever going to be able to walk up to them and do that, and I wasn’t going to be able to stop seeing them as labels, as groups without individual identities.  So, I had to do the work on myself.

Getting to Love

Choosing love is hard.  But I had to start really thinking about how I was going to acknowledge this feelings and see where they could lead me.  I wish I could say that I got to love, and that writing this now I am at that space of love.  I’m not.  I’m still frustrated, and I still want to “get even” with those people.  Probably in the same way they might want to “get even” with me.

What I realized by going through these feelings is that I couldn’t get to love without first getting to the place where I could disengage from my own fear.  I had to begin the process of letting go of my anger as a starting point for how to change the situation.  I am still in that process even as I write this.  Where I can start, though, is by accepting that there viewpoint is not acceptable to me.  What, therefore, should I do?  I can make choice not to agree—I already voted “no” on the proposition—and I can also make the choice to recognize that their choice, and their actions, cannot diminish my own.  Even if they inspire fear in me, or anger, I cannot let that be where I start.  I have to start from love, in whatever form that takes.