Everybody dance now….

The Nataraja (Siva as Lord of the Dance)--with his wild dreads entangled with skulls and jewels dancing the universe into existence while stomping out the mini-me of forgetfulness--never ceases to inspire a class theme. So the ancient texts go his anandatandava, dance of bliss, consists of five acts:
• revelation
• concealment
• creation
• maintenance
• destruction.
Having recently sashayed, both on and off the mat, from a period of super fun expansion into multiple moments of suddenly feeling as if I'd been smacked down, his persistent dance routine has been top of mind. For example, I spontaneously began doing drop backs (standing dropping into a back bend and then standing up again), an asana which I’ve feared for years, only to slip and fall on train station steps which I've travelled for years and fracture my knee cap. As I am grudgingly coming to terms with my injury and slow recovery, it occurred to me how being adept at jiving to all five acts(not just high spirited party favorites like revelation and creation) is the key to resilience.

The iconography and stories of the Nataraja remind us that we live within an undulating cyclical dance on many levels. In the broadest sense, by watching ocean waves rising, rolling, spilling and retreating, depending on time of day performing anything from a smooth waltz to an high spirited hip hop number, we can actually see the powerful recursive cycle that embraces the earth in action. Or from a very different perspective, citizens of corporate America like myself may also recognize the Nataraja's five acts in organization design or team development theory which explain the ebb and flow of how we work together. And at the most intimate of levels, all of us will find this same universal dance is in
.....the cadence of our breathe,
..........the metronome of our hearts,
...............the pulse which enlivens every cell in our body…

So we changed our practice this week by turning up the dance music yet slowing down our asanas to active restoratives, proving to ourselves that the dance we so often seek externally, is deep within us (and that there is no shortage of PG rated songs, some sillier than others, from the 90's, 80's, and 70's about dancing!)

During svasana I shared the excerpt below from an accomplished scientist whose work links Eastern thought and physics. As he peered into a high powered technologically advanced telescope, he writes:

I saw cascades of energy coming down from outer space, in which particles were destroyed and created in rhythmic pulses; I saw the atoms of the elements and those of my body participating in this cosmic dance of energy; I felt its rhythm and I heard its sound, and at that moment I knew that this was the Dance of Shiva, the Lord of Dancers.
—Fritjof Capra, Tao of Physics

All in all, the Nataraja's dance is everywhere (a.k.a the rhythm is going to get you). Try as we might, we cannot control or trump a phase. It's seductive to only ever want to ride the crest of a wave but invariably each of us will need to maneuver its dissolution. These down turns invite us to give ourselves permission to be hurt and broken, versus chasing the wave that was, and trust destruction is an integral part of growth and not the final act...so long as the Nataraja keeps time with the tick tock of his hand held drum....revelation, creation, etc. is sure to follow.

Our yoga practice this week was intended to help tune in to where we truly are versus where we want to be within this recursive rhythm and then, lean in, surrender wholeheartedly to the hustle and flow, and just dance.

To the dance which resides deep within all of us, namaste (and boogie woogie)!

P.S. Apologies to Ed for torturing him with Barry Manilow’s Bandstand Boogie. While in konasana (seated wide angle forward bend), he held his ears and breathed very deeply, to get through the 2 ½ minutes. Every one's anandatandava is different, I suppose. After class I was inspired to download, the Marcarena, Electric Slide, Chicken Dance…

From Good to Great

Are you a hedgehog or a fox?

What does the business book “Good to Great” by Jim Collins, which examines why some companies make the leap from good to great and others do not, have to do with yoga or you? Well, you know by now I find yoga everywhere, even in the most inconspicuous of hiding places. Turns out those concepts which make for good business are similar to the philosophical themes and alignment principles we visit on our mats each week.

Take, for instance, the Hedgehog concept, with roots in a Greek myth about the hedgehog and the fox. The fox knows many things, is cunning, able to devise a myriad of sneak attacks on the hedgehog, whereas the hedgehog knows one big thing. And you guessed it, the hedgehog always wins! When the fox thinks he’s found a way to pounce, the hedgehog responds the same way time and again—he rolls into a ball, and extends his spikes to successfully ward off the fox.

The gist of the hedgehog concept is that no matter how complex, it’s mastered the ability to reduce all challenges and dilemmas to a simplistic idea, a single organizing concept, or basic principle that unifies and guides everything. Think, Einstein’s theory of relativity E= MC2, where the simplicity is born of deep understanding and complexity. Or, per the authors, Wells Fargo's move from a disperse Citicorp wanna-be to one of the best performing banks in the world (as of 2001).

On our mats, the Anusara style of yoga does much the same. It boils things down to five principles of alignment, so no matter the pose, no matter our ability to master its full expression, we apply the same principles again and again, and it too works.

Set the foundation and Open
Muscular Energy
Inner Spiral
Outer Spiral
Organic expansion

The author (who I now suspect is a yogi too) suggests that these brilliantly simple hedgehog-like business concepts flow from the intersection of:

1. What you can be best in the world at (and equally important what you cannot be the best at)?

Likewise your yoga practice is an invitation to get really good at being an authentic version of you with a deep understanding of your gifts, choosing honest alignment and application of the five principles first over grasping for the external ideal of a pose.

2. What drives your economic engine?

There are three energetic focal points—the pelvis, bottom of the heart, or upper palate—one of which will be the key place of power for any asana. Knowing what focal point fuels an asana helps us expand and experience its full value.

3. What are you deeply passionate about?

Yoga has all types of tools (asana, meditation, pranayama, mantra) to help you do the hard work to discover what you truly desire, so you too can make what you love what you do.

This hedgehog concept is an iterative process not an event. Einstein groped through the fog to uncover the theory of relativity. Businesses who want to move from Good to Great are encouraged to do the same, constantly revisiting the three questions above, until clarity reveals itself.

It’s no different on our mats, and I think the reason we come back time and again. In a smilar way, yoga's long and storied history of trying to make sense of our experiences, created a mala theory, where malas are like dust covering the mirrors of our heart. The dust doesn’t taint or alter the perfect clarity of the mirror, but rather covers it up, and so too a consistent yoga practice can help clear away the haze.

So, this week we practiced being a hedgehog!
• Relentlessly applied the five alignment principles
• Leveraged the focal points to expand our asanas
• Reflected on what were are really (really) good at
• Asked ourselves what it is that we truly desire

Note: As our foxy ways revealed themselves in handstand, you pointed out that the fox may be getting a little bit of bad wrap. Probably right, maybe a theme for another class!

In closing…

Hedgehogs are simple dowdy creatures that are brilliant in their unwavering commitment to know one big thing, the thing that they can do best. In the same way, we come to our mats time and again, and work just five principles of alignment, and instead of monotony, always seem to find there is more.

The Hedgehog concept reminded me that so often I or I see others seeking something outside, something new, different, “foxy”, wanting the cutting edge angle, until…it wears off. At the risk of sounding like a “bumper sticker”, it may be just this simple: whether a business or an individual, what you’re seeking is already inside.

It’s what only you can be best at

It’s what you’re passionate about

That moves you from Good to Great.

To uncovering our gifts and passion, making decisions relentlessly consistent with them and ultimately moving from Good to Great both on and off our mats, Namaste!

Valentine’s Day: Believing when not seeing

Svatantrya: self looming or weaving as in the tapestry of life.

Each February I dedicate a yoga class theme to a matter of the heart— strokes – a brain attack due to interruption of blood flow. Why not true love, cupid and soul mates? Too obvious, (I know some of you will be nodding yes : ) but also because a few years ago now, my Dad, a seemingly healthy man in his mid 50s, suffered a stroke on of all days, the day of the heart, Valentine’s Day.

So, why annually revisit such a traumatic event? Well because his recovery is the story I hold close when I lose trust in believing without seeing. My reflections remind me that radical transformation is possible. I’ve seen it. This story is the “you can do it” which checkmates my doubts that simply doing my best to be an authentic version of “me” will result in progress even when I don't see the change(at times year after year after year...after year...).

All stories need to introduce the main character. My Dad, plain and simple, owns his seat (asana). Regardless of outside influences, however astonishing or heartbreaking, he knows who he is at his core, selflessly shares his gifts (madhurya) and demonstrates an unwavering desire to do what is right. His creative resourcefulness is awe inspiring, and the results a reminder that art is not limited to what you find in a theatre or a museum. Just check out the before and after shots of a dilapidated home he has painstakingly restored or watch him McGyver a problem with ease, like getting an inoperable piece of household machinery going with some string, a safety pin and bubble gum.

It’s no surprise soon after his stroke, while he could no longer find the word for elbow or comprehend a phone number, his instincts said let’s get back to being “me” and start fixing this. And he did. We tried to help. We sat with him through 3rd grade phonics and lame video games, but he knew better. He needed to move, to get back to the type of work he knew best, even if that meant climbing on a roof to make a complex repair, while still unable to speak well.

While I suspect it may not have always felt like this to him, from my vantage point, I watched someone show up each day, no questions, no blame, no why me (ever)…facing the uncertainty of the future, stakes high, not knowing what it would hold, just doing what he could to accept his circumstances, be himself through the process and move on. Now that’s believing without seeing.

Our ability to heal never ceases to amaze me. In the case of stroke, the healing can consist of the restoration of pathways which re-reveal years of knowledge—memories, vocabulary, math—seemingly erased, yet latent and unseen all along. Similarly, on our mats, it’s often hard to believe showing up and doing the best darn chaturaunga (low push up) with head of the arm bones back will build the strength required to one day accomplish pincha mayruarsana padmasana (fore arm balance in lotus). But it does. Or that the power of our hearts and our capacity to love is always there—always—even though it may lay buried beneath layers of disappointment, fear, and in a smattering of broken pieces.

I admit around the holidays of that year I had settled into the idea that my Dad would always need a notebook to remember conversations, stutter as he searched for common words, ask my mom to read his menu or struggle to dial the phone because the numbers would get mixed up travelling the matrix of his mind. Likewise, I’ve given up on an asana or two (urdhva “d” (wheel) drop back and then back up to stand), lost trust in myself, or more often than I’d like to admit let the disappointments of life cloak my willingness to risk exposing my heart.

I did not see the connections being made and doubted healing was possible. Now that’s seeing what I believe.

Then – shazzam, shift happens! I will never forget a random phone call from my Dad in April of the following year. Something had unfolded. Our conversation was lucid and I was talking to someone seemingly lost a year or so ago! Critical links had been made and pathways had been restored. What appeared as rapid transformation was anything but. This progress had been in the works for a long time, I just didn't see it. Similarly, I'm reminded of those latch hook rugs my sister and I crafted as kids. Looming and weaving, spending days on one part—the intricate blades of grass—so much so that we lost sight of the bigger picture—the grand lioness presiding over her forest—which only unfolded when we hooked the last few pieces of yarn into place.

Most of us (knock on wood now!) will only know the symptoms of stroke as an allegory for blockages which restrict that looming flow of energy, the svatantrya, and reveal themselves during times when we find ourselves:
• Numb
• Confused, problems speaking
• Trouble seeing clearly
• Losing our balance
• Painful Headache that comes on suddenly for unknown reason
• Unable to smile, raise both arms, or stick tounge out straight

Now if these symptoms are physical, please dial 911 ASAP! If a stroke is caught within three hours, there are medical advances which can reverse the affects (that’s the public service announcement worth repeating year after year). But if more likely your reference point is symbolic, then I recommend you find your way to your mat, and pull out one of the many technologies in your yoga tool kit, tools that help us: know our seat (meditation), get things moving (pranayama), clear out the fog (mantra), or reopen pathways (asana).

Svatantrya means to loom or to weave freely, not knowing how the pattern will unfold, yet trusting connections are being made. That’s the yoga – the yoking – the making of connections. The invitation is that you own your seat (asana) and steadfastly exploit being you, throughout the process.

Each year my hope is that by sharing this story you are reminded of your own story of affirmation – when you’ve seen the "pop", connections which had been looming and weaving below the surface suddenly manifest themselves. Perhaps it was a yoga asana you never though you could master, simply planting seeds and watching them blossom in the spring, or a much more personal matter of the heart. Whatever it is, however big or small, my wish is that you too now hold it close whenever you need to trust in believing without seeing.

LODO – Lights On Doors Open

“One cannot always tell what it is that keeps us shut in, confines us, seems to bury us, but still one feels certain barriers, certain gates, certain walls. Is all this imagination, fantasy? I do not think so. And then one asks: My God! Is it for long, is it forever, is it for eternity? Do you know what frees one from this captivity? It is very deep serious affection. Being friends, being brothers, love, that is what opens the prison by supreme power, by some magic force” – Vincent Van Gogh

Sometimes the Universe keeps on speaking to us through others until we answer. This past week I was asked, “Why do you teach yoga?” so often it made me pause and rethink my light hearted standard response…it’s fun, love seeing people light up when they get an asana.

One of the many things I’ve come to appreciate about yoga is that it is always extending yet another invitation to more (and more and more…) questions. Think Russian nesting dolls, or clown car. Sometimes it throws hard balls: What do you truly desire? And the dreaded follow up, is what you do aligned with what you desire? Other times (thankfully) it lobs soft balls: Is she for real when she says moving your thumbs back/down and pinky fingers up in warrior I somehow puffs up your back kidney area?

When we choose to answer (vs blow off) these questions, it’s a game changer—moving our practice from Simon says, monkey see monkey do toward a more playful inquisitive experiment.

And it’s not always about getting the right answer (whew!) It’s also about asking ever better questions, continuously revisiting them, proving to yourself time and again where you stand.

Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and common sense. – Buddha

So I accepted the invitation to revisit, “Why do you teach yoga?” After some thought, my response was LODO— Lights On Doors Open—an acronym for a financial term we use in Corporate America referring to the baseline cost of keeping operations up and running.

Simply put I teach public classes with the heartfelt intent to keep the Lights On and Doors Open in an unraveling world which I’ve seen all too often dims (turns off) our lights and shuts (slams) our doors.

On our mats this week we practiced asking better questions and creating space in our asanas. To open the walls, we applied inner spiral (moving your butt back) and kidney loop (sides of the waist back) to hip openers and back bends all the while asking why? why? why? E.g. Why move the thighs back, other than I suggested it was a good idea?

We also touched on an esoteric concept introduced by Paul Muller-Ortega, renowned scholar of Hindu Tantra, at a recent workshop. He talked about a shutter or aperture like muscle, inside all of us, that is a gateway to the always present light. Through meditation this internal muscle can open/flip in a way that you experience pure consciousness. Some of us naturally have more control over it's pulsation than others, similar to how some of us can wiggle our ears while others cannot.

Sidebar: an uncanny number of you can wiggle you ears while doing cobra (bhujangasana)!

Regardless of natural talent, all of us can practice conditioning this muscle. The process is not all that different than maintaining our physical bodies through asana. The unconscious routines of life create veils which contract the energy and stop the shutter from working. Meditation, mantra or deep serious affection can dialate the aperature allowing us to connect with our ephemeral double, that subtle body of light and energy which animates us and is pure, perfect, and independent of our physical age. Being disconnected from this subtle aspect of ourselves is so often what makes us feel confined, trapped, dark.

In closing…

My wish for you as we left our mats is that you too accept the invitation to engage the questions allowing your answers to simmer deepen and refine themselves as you change and evolve over time. So again I responded to the question, “Why do you teach yoga?”

I teach to hold space in my heart for

……those whose light was self extinguished or forever occluded by illness

I teach for me

……because your reflections keep my lights on

I teach for you

……knowing first hand that this practice will keep the doors from closing in

I teach with hope

……that something as simple as yoga enables you keep the lights on and doors open for others

To asking ever better questions on and off our mats, and a practice that blows the doors off, and amplifies the light, Namaste!

P.S. Paul's site is www.bluethroatyoga.com

Perugia Sunset

The view was stunning. The center piazza of Perugia sits on a precipice. As the sun set, there I stood, at the edge of the Saturday night hustle and bustle, along the promenade of a veranda which overlooks all of Umbria, Italy. The twinkling lights of the homes and cars, all the tangible stuff which make up our relative world, were perfectly juxtaposed against the natural hills and valleys created by something absolute, something bigger than ourselves. Lucky me. I had a birds eye view of that undulating cycle on the move—sunrise…sunset—which holds our relative and absolute worlds at the midline. Just as it should be. Perfect.

Put Pocket

Put Pocketer (def.) Twenty or so reformed pick pocketers trawling London’s streets and subways putting money into the pockets of unsuspecting people.

This week marked the eighth anniversary of 9-11 and I was struck by the high number of “put pocket” stories. Tales about ordinary people who “never forget” the generosity exhibited by total strangers in the wake of tragedy. Strangers whose kind acts and selfless helping hands gushed in to fill the deep crevasses created by the awesome tragedy. As an example, the evening news featured a kula started by 30 or so folks impacted by 9-11 who each year take on a project to rebuild an area struck by tragedy or disaster. This year they estimate 500-600 people, mostly former recipients, joined in to resurrect a boy scout camp site that had been ravaged by a tragic lightening storm. Goes to show we can catch all kinds of things, not just the flu, from each other.

And, it’s not only outrageous calminities like 9-11 which pick our pockets. More often it’s just the monotony of work or our never ending to do lists (nittya karmas) that deplete us. So this week we used our practice to play with balancing out the effects of life’s “pick pocketing” with a little “put pocketing” of our own:

• Focusing on our physical alignment to create thoughtful crevasses into which prana flows and puts energy back into the body.
• Partnering together on asanas to validate that ultimately we are in this together and when we join forces we can put each other up to new heights. (and, yes….I did go so far as to place Josh Groban’s song “you lift me up”. I have no shame.)
• Replenishing our pockets through the simple act of taking one hour and fifteen minutes for ourselves so that when we take our yoga off our mats, we too have something to deposit, not for recognition, but more or less on the sly simply because we can. It’s often the mickies we slip to each other unnoticed, such as glances, words or deeds, which have the greatest impact.
  

So why not, as Joan suggested at the end of class, make put pocketing our off the mat an home work assignment? Try it out. See if it works. Validate for ourselves what ancient yoga texts ask us to consider—it’s in the put pocketing, where you place your intentions, make inroads and take action, into which Sri, the abundant power that makes up the energetic world around us, fills in the space and reveals her promises. There is always more. The gift is that it is up to us to make choices which put Sri in the right place (or pockets). To this choice, Namaste!

Eye Exams

Preface

While creating the blog post "Hey, watch your heart-attitude!" (2012) I was reminded that as part of the study of the Siva Sutra back in 2008, Dr. Douglas Brooks asked us to contemplate unfinished revelation and how we've experienced upaya—making skillful choices which deepen our connections based not on whether a choice is moral or analytical or true but rather creates something of value. I've purposely pasted below what I wrote in response with no changes, resisting the temptation to edit, keeping typos and all. I'm sharing it in the off chance my musings further inspire your own. Please know I have absolutely no agenda or investment into whether you agree or not. My perspectives are continually evolving and I hope yours are too.

Contemplation

Have you ever gone to the eye doctor for a real eye exam? At some point you find your self peering through a diagnostic machine as the optometrist flips through lens after lens …after lens each time calling out, “How about this one? Is this one better or worse than the last one? And, this one?” My eye sight on a good day is 20/40 where my right eye is seemingly bionic in comparison to left. I do not wear glasses and get by just fine. Yet an eye exam never fails to slow me down and make me pause, a bit agitated at all the choices, and surprised that there is more than one lens which enhances my ability to see things it never occurred to me were blurred.

How I see will change over time; the process is unfinished. And, I can choose at any time to wear glasses or have surgery to perfect my vision. Yet, at the end of the day, 20/40 is the perfectly imperfect lens I’ve been given.

Similarly, the karmic lens of religion bestowed upon me growing up is Presbyterian in a community of friends and extended family who were primarily Catholic. What both religions ask of me is to attest that the bible is my book, and Jesus is my main man. Period. However, one might say that my passive aggressive obstinancy staunched the vrittis of obsequiousness. Instead of falling into line, I pondered whether one man is all there was and ever will be, and how his death could be impermanent when everything else tells me it is not. My prognosis—I had less than perfect eye sight. So much so it occurred to me that by diverting my attention to whether or not I believed, I was blurring the deeper truths which resonate for me on a visceral level in the Christian teachings and rituals.

In turn, over the years, I’ve window shopped and slipped on another religious lens or two. I suspect I’m not alone. On a trip to Thailand I stood on the steps of countless Buddhist temples. I learned the stories, and had knowledge of the practices. I could see that the practice was effacious; there is kindness in the pedestrian eyes of Thailand, the likes of which I’ve yet to encounter again. But as the worshippers sank into their prayers and offered their lotus hearts to the Buddha, I felt nothing. I’ve also walked the consecrated domes of Muslim mosques in Turkey, as the unfailing melodious call to prayer punctuates time, and witnessed the contrasting uber soft Sufi mystical order of the Mevlevi whirling dervishes. The fierce words were startlingly, so much so they burnished an opening in my heart which filled with the swirling allure of the sweet essence which belies these practices. Yet as I stood along side those who surrendered every ounce of their being to Allah or the divine, I was an intruder. This too was not my place. I visited a Hindu temple once on the eve of Deepawali where the well healed of Singapore strutted the most exquisite attire and then to the contrary sat quietly all alone in the rudimentary natural stone caves of Hindu worship in Bali. Surely here where there were familiar faces—Hanuman, Brahma, Siva, Vishnu—I would feel something. But no. I was under dressed, spooked, and numb, nothing more. This was not my place.

Yet when I step inside any Christian church—shazaam—the ambience electrifies my being. I’m like Pavlov’s dog, I suppose. My seat is deeply rooted and intertwined in the arched walls crested with angels who bask in the refracted light of multi-colored stained glass where organs and harps gloriously play Thine is the Glory amid images of Mary, Jesus and the gang. It is here in this place that my heart sings and reverberates on a sublime frequency. Why? Because it is in hallowed halls such as this that I’ve experienced the greatest teacher of them all—life. It is here that I looked death in the eye and said goodbye to loved ones, met my first love in a confirmation class, celebrated births and the holiest of matrimonies, and sought sanctuary when I thought I could not take another step. This is the vantage point that was given to me. It is mine. I own it. It cannot be claimed by anyone but me. This is why when I travel to NY, if I can squeeze it in, you’ll find me in the back row of St Patrick’s Cathedral drinking in the melody of Amazing Grace. And on Christmas and Easter, I will be in a Christian pew where at certain moments in the service I hope no one looks my way else they may sense the wave of emotion which emanates from the deep connection in my heart and crests as tears which trickle down the underside of my eyes. It is in this place that I know the reflection of consciousness, no matter the name or character or pithy argument she takes on. And I cannot help but wonder that regardless of the story or what it looks like or how it is shaped that somehow the pulsation of the earth is little stronger on these holy days, however defined, as millions shuffle into pews or kneel in mosques or whirl about—conscious or not—and align themselves with their divine flow. As if a seismograph somewhere in the universe makes a blip which registers the heightened concentric spoils of spanda and confirms – yes- there is something else out there.

So what I found from my window shopping is that there is wisdom inherent in experience that cannot be gleaned from book learning or knowledge alone. I must have both.

And it is the tantric lens of unfinished revelation which freed me from the shackles, and allowed me to transmute irrefutable facts of Christianity into striking myths that reveal deeper truths. So that Easter can be a non dual celebration of the deepest darkness known to man; a darkness which is equivalent to the light. Or maybe an invitation to go to the cremation grounds, reflect on the cracks and fissures created by the crimes of humanity. Roam here too. Don’t be afraid.

With that said, I attest the faith I was born into is no longer an authentic principled choice for me. As much as the Christian rituals and stories touch my heart and however I may reframe them, I am not a true believer. Am I a charlatan if I sit in a chapel every now and again? Perhaps. Does it technically compromise my principles? Maybe. Is it a radical affirmation of my lens and karmic experience? Oh, Yes! Yes! Definitely! And, this is exactly how I embrace rather than look past who I am.

This is also how I know upaya—making skillful choices which deepen my connections based not on whether my choice is moral or analytical but rather creates something of value. Sitting in a church is a marvelously valuable experience for me; I will not deny it. However, with each revelation comes another opportunity to again choose where I place my heart (shradda). With each successive choice I’m free to neglect the cultivation of my most authentic nature, to rest on the laurels of the karmic lens bequeathed to me and call it a day. Or, I can (and will) keep on searching for the perfect pair of glasses, a lens which optimally reflects my authentic nature. Who knows? Maybe one day I will even go so far as to get a new set of eyes.

Postscript

Many years later I came across this poem by Rumi, at 13th century Sufi mystic. Like all good poetry it gets at the timeless essence of experience and assures us we're not alone in our experience.

I searched for God among the Christians and on the Cross and therein I found Him not.
I went into the ancient temples of idolatry; no trace of Him was there.
I entered the mountain cave of Hira and then went very far but God I found not.
Then I directed my search to the Kaaba, the resort of old and young; God was not there.
Finally, I looked into my own heart and there I saw Him; He was nowhere else.

And so...we will continue to evolve the social structures and stories that take us deeper.  Yesterday a church, today a yoga studio, tomorrow something different.  The pantheons will always be at best as relative as they simultaneously true. And yet never an end in of themselves, rather places to park our hearts for a while, so that we may know that ubiquitous essence that is our true self.