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 Taking
Refuge - Reflections on Service
by SarahJoy Marsh
It
wasn't until I lived in the woods tending tasks at Breitenbush
Hot Springs retreat center that I heard of “karma yoga”—the
yoga of service and action. I'd wake up at 5 am and head to the
kitchen in the dark hours of morning. Through the quiet hum of
the oven and the softly burning gas stove, I'd make my prayers
with my hands: muffins, fruit trays, cinnamon rolls and oatmeal.
I was so grateful to be there that every service was a privilege
and a prayer.
The
hard work strengthened my body and challenged me in a way that
honed my dedication to whatever task was before me. Following
10 hours in the kitchen, I often found myself on the busiest of
days heading out to help the cleaning crew with the cabins or
to prepare the workshop spaces for the 'all camp turn over', where
we would be saying farewell to some 150 guests at 3 pm, and hello
to another 100 at 4 pm! Then, on my luckiest days, I’d go
to the Sanctuary to teach yoga class at 4:30 pm. Finally, I luxuriated
in a soak in the springs and a good night’s sleep before
awakening to the quiet of morning, and the cycle began again.
After
several years, some of the freshness of that perspective wore
off. I might find myself grumbling when kitchen work would head
into the 12th hour. I started to prefer a walk in the woods to
connect with God rather than a stroll with the vacuum cleaner.
What
is it that transforms a task from grateful service to mundane
chore? From spiritual expansion to mental & physical contraction?
I’ve grown tired of truisms that always equate service to
spiritual pursuit. Sometimes they’re used to rationalize
workaholism; other times to justify exploitation of self, or other.
Using
the concept of karma yoga to rationalize an out of balance situation
serves neither God, the practitioner nor those receiving the service.
Phrases like "Who serves?" can take you to the open
heart of service, it’s true, but I have at times used that
phrase to repel my own gathering resentment about once again having
told myself I’d be home at a reasonable hour, yet here I
am, four hours later, just wrapping up for the day. Grrrrrrrr.
I
once read something on a button that made me laugh out loud for
days (the true sign of something funny that also strikes a deeper
meaning within). "If what doesn't kill you makes you stronger,
I must be Arnold Swarzenager by now!" To the overworking,
perfectionist in me, this was the most hilarious thing I’d
come across in a long while. And boy was I getting strong!
But
what kind of strength? Resilience? or spiritual immunity? Patience?
or spiritual numbness? True joy? or an adrenalin rush?
A
year and a half ago I opened a yoga studio in Portland, and I’ve
had ample opportunity to reflect on the nature of service as spiritual
practice. When asked, I reply enthusiastically, "Yes, I would
do it all over again". I’ve endured many long days and
work cycles, and my love for yoga and community still thrives.
I’m learning to live with the vulnerability of being occasionally
worn down by my love, like a new mother. I welcome the fatigue
that tells me it was too much today. When I welcome it, I can
reflect back and see where the old perfectionist was directing
the show, and remember that simplicity is a much better guide
along the path.
Ultimately
when I welcome both the vulnerability and the fatigue, there is
a great forgiveness for myself, for the situation, for the student
who just had to have 15 minutes more of my time. In the light
of that forgiveness, the spark of gratitude comes. But the gratitude
now has a different feel to it. Where once it was gratitude to
be in a certain place, or to have a certain opportunity, this
gratitude is less attached to any particular theme. It is gratitude
simply for being aware of the largess, the mystery, that cradles
me when I am tired and sustains me when I run headlong into the
sunset with my heart full of giving.
Sometimes,
through the simple act of serving, even an act as simple as allowing
someone into the flow of traffic, we are once again connected
to that largess and released from our own small prison of My needs,
and My desires and My agenda.
In
the past month, the key for me has been remembering the privilege
of my work. In this remembering, an expansion occurs in which
I see that I too am worthy of the same service that flows out
to others: kindness, refuge, rejuvenation and restfulness. Then
the instrument of this loving is finely tuned for its tasks. And
I allow myself to be like clay spinning on a potters wheel with
the hands of God sculpting a fine chalice for the wine of service.
Sarahjoy
Marsh is a founder of The Sanctuary, A Center for Yoga, Dharma
and Healing Arts. She is dedicated to the heart’s awakening
through yoga and meditation. She can be reached at 503-552-9642
(552-YOGA).
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