...not just a monkey-god doing the splits

Even the most casual drop-in student to a yoga class can tell you a little about Hanuman.

Cause-celebre to yogis on our colorful eco-mats on bamboo floors, Hanuman, the monkey-god, has become a trope, a commonplace for classes and teachers: working toward that split while cultivating devotion and service. The posture of Hanuman, or Hanumanasana, is what’s considered an “apex” pose: the cherry pose that crowns your preparations, and for most of us these days - without proper preparation will pop the ghost of your cherry.

So why should we care? Yogi or yoga-phobe, willing or not: what relevance or guidance might an Indian god with a funny name* have for our straining lives today, on or off the mat? 

Hanuman requires some translation. 

And so this middle-aged erst-while yoga practitioner and teacher, having lost some flexibility and intent on rebuilding strength and deeper virtues of commitment (staying-power), re-kindled devotion (another strange word, and devotion to what?) and let’s face it, the soul-restoring sweetness of being lost in Love ... so with me, myself and I as a guide, I’m undertaking a journey into the territory of Hanuman to see what I might learn. 

I’m after wisdom (vs. accumulating post-its of knowledge): not facts or tidbits, but the kind of groundedness that comes from letting information soak into the cellular tissues, seeping right down into organ and bone, and then integrating into posture, then movement, then actions. 

Wisdom. That’s what I’m after.

I don’t know about you, but I sure could use some superhero powers to make it through the day. And ambitious woman that I am, “making it” means facing my life and choices with joy, lightness and a marked absence of taking myself so damned seriously.

Note #1: Hanuman never suffers from self-doubt

When I was still a girl-child, living out my curiosity without shame and delighting in my body, wrapped in the security and safety of a sun-splashed middle class upbringing, self-doubt never seemed like an inevitable career choice.

Completely ignorant of even Lilias Folan cheerily introducing yoga into countless living rooms, I pretzeled my body into contortions just for the fun of it. My favorite reading posture was virasana, I did shoulderstand variations while watching TV, and if there was a flat space to lie on, I’d arch back and creep my toes toward my eyebrows.

There wasn’t a public to impress, no flexibility to strain for or worry about holding a pose and suffering. Like a little monkey I rolled and unrolled myself as the whim struck me.

It was fun. I wasn’t bored or even in the shoulderstand, endlessly examining my belly button. I didn’t question who I was or why I was doing gymnastics on the carpet. I just did it. For the joy of it, like a monkey, because I could and it felt good. 

Nowhere in my readings or accounts I’ve heard of Hanuman is there a moment when he stops and thinks: wait, can I do this? Who am I to think I might leap a sea or fly through the air or rescue Sita? Impetuous, yes. Monkey-minded, yes. Ghastly table-manners? Check.

But Hanuman never questions who he is.  I’d hazard a guess that there would be no service or movement if he was questioning his worthiness or ability or the likelihood of success.

*he of the cleft chin, parted by a lightning bolt from the Lord of the Heavens to stop the young, insanely strong monkey-god toddler from swallowing the sun.