We constantly hear: “Life is lived in the moment.” 
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It’s true. We touch experience more deeply, remember events more surely, and feel infinitude more tangibly when we’ve entered into The Now.
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We’re told that yoga brings us to that moment. When we hold poses and feel their discomfort, it trains our attention to remain steady.  Staying steady, we confront ghosts of physical and psychic pain.
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Yoga makes us sommeliers of sensation.
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When practicing, we gain access to the finest textures of emotion. We learn to read subtle inner responses from ourselves and subtle outer responses from others with some degree of skill.  We learn how to attune to the courageous core of our being.
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Tomorrow, I’ll go visit the Northern California wing of my family. I’m at ease, but I wasn’t last month when visiting.

I’m easeful now, because my sense of the moment helped me tame the Tiger of Family.

Families inspire both love and confusion. I have allowed shocking family events to constrict me. That constriction has played out in other social bonds. Psychic templates of families can’t be dodged – they are our emotional DNA. To paraphrase Louis Armstrong, “If you feel it in your family, it’s comin’ outta your horn.”

If you can build clear emotional structure in Family, you can probably build it anywhere. Last month, I was tired of lying. I was sick of the half-truth of my identity with my brother and mother. I saw myself as a coward for living in silence around issues that required redress.

Visualizing myself confronting these issues felt adult and alive. The three months before this visit, I had done a daily gratitude and forgiveness journal. This brightened and balanced my energy, but made the clogs in my family pipes almost nauseatingly hard to bear.

I was at a tipping point.

I confronted my brother first. Sitting in front of an NBA game with him, the moment buzzed. I could feel the new me in the vacuum of the next moment. The feeling of my mouth opening and saying the difficult thing felt like the edge of space. When I crossed that line and spoke to him, I made a new me.

In the next hour, I did the same thing with my mother. I said things to her that had roiled me for 30 years. Perhaps because of the preparatory journaling work, there was no shouting, denials, or counter-accusations. That conversation, too, was preceded by a fine sensitivity of the hairline between future and past. I hesitated less the second time. I’d improved my “yoga of family.”

Modern yoga is a social form. Pre-modern yoga was solitary. Great Eastern teachers often tell us that – for modern folk – energy gets most stuck in relationships. Our enlightenment is stalled there. A swami once said, “Enlightenment is as easy as stepping off the limb of a tree.”

I got that experience from my last visit home. The muscles of yoga got me to leap.

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