The Immigrant Asana

Originally published in Asana Yoga Magazine, May 2016.

From the Archives

I wrote this essay for Asana Yoga Magazine ten years ago. Reading it again, I’m reminded that some ideas continue to ask for our attention. The language surrounding immigration has changed, the politics have shifted, but gratitude remains in the same place: one conscious breath.

I’m sympathetic to the plight of immigrants. Many of us have watched difficult journeys unfold across our television and computer screens. We’ve seen exhausted faces, thin frames, and brows marked by worry. Many carry deep trauma while facing an uncertain future without a home or homeland.

Few would willingly choose dangerous crossings over stormy seas or hostile lands. Yet amid shock and loss sometimes that’s the only option. I’ve noticed something remarkable among many people, but especially immigrants, and that is gratitude for the simplest gifts of life. Food. Water. Safety. Another day.

When everything unnecessary is stripped away, central things become central again and for many immigrants, people that have lost everything, that means giving thanks simply to be alive and for the safety of loved ones. That same posture of gratitude can also guide the practice of yoga.

Almost all Americans descend from immigrants. My own great-great-grandparents crossed an ocean to get here in 1849 and begin a new life. In another sense, I became an immigrant to yoga when I entered its world.

My grandparents likely never heard of yoga. My parents never imagined practicing it. I hadn’t encountered it until I was twenty-one years old and traveled to India.

For many of us, entering yoga is also a search for a better life. My journey was voluntary, of course. I wasn’t fleeing oppression or poverty. I was traveling for adventure and a personal mission.

The challenge facing many Western societies isn’t scarcity. It’s abundance.

When we possess so much, it’s easy to lose sight of what matters most. We become hurried, distracted, and forgetful of the gifts already in our hands. Peace and happiness seem elusive. The afflictions of abundance leave their mark.

Yoga gently returns us to the essentials.

The immigrant experience reminds us of another way. It teaches gratitude for life itself and for the safety of those we love.

Yoga offers a practice rooted in that same awareness. Each conscious breath becomes an act of thanksgiving. Each inhalation is received. Each exhalation is offered back in gratitude.

Over time, breathing this way begins to shape an entire life. The breath itself becomes prayer.

Years ago, I watched a documentary about the Cuban refugees who fled during the Mariel boatlift. Thousands crossed ninety miles of dangerous water in overcrowded boats, hoping simply to survive and begin again.

One image has never left me.

A man reached the Florida shoreline, stumbled from person to person repeating, “Thank you… thank you… thank you,” gently placing his open palms against strangers’ faces. Finally, he knelt in the sand, bowed his head, and wept.

That moment has stayed with me ever since.

As yogis, we sometimes practice what I think of as the immigrant asana.

In deep thankfulness we come to our knees; grateful for another breath and the immeasurable value of ordinary life.