National Volunteer Week - Talk to YIDL volunteers
Doing something
On Thursdays I am unavailable for work or family commitments. Thursday is my volunteer day. The description is inadequate for what I do, but it’s the language I use to describe my activities to the world at large.
I became a volunteer four years ago when I retired from an overwhelming career in TAFE. My last day at TAFE was a Friday. On Monday morning I went to a yoga class, then signed up to volunteer one day a week with Yoga in Daily Life. When asked if I was available for three or six months, my reply was, “Oh no. I’m in for the long haul.”
How did I know? What was it that brought me in through that door with such a strong sense of belonging? The building had beckoned for years before I was free to attend my first Saturday yoga class. Then the standard of teaching and quality of teachers left me, as an educationalist, intrigued as to the foundations on which such quality was built. Even so, when I signed up on that Monday morning I wasn’t consciously aware of what I was really doing. I was joining an ashram.
Yesterday, sitting at my desk at the back of the kitchen, I was working on developing a protocol for external usage of the yoga halls. And the introduction gently reminded users that this was no simple yoga centre. This was an ashram. Then followed a sentence defining ashram as: a place where all are welcome to come and do something for the benefit of body, mind and soul.
The editor in me baulked at the phrase ‘do something’. It sounded so lame – so non-specific. There must be a better way of saying it.
Now someone else happened to be in the room, ‘doing something’ at the kitchen sink. As all writers do when they are stuck, I consulted. The ‘someone’ was fortuitously my philosophy teacher, colleague and mentor Yogasiddhi. “Ah,” she said. “That is a direct translation from Sanskrit asramah. ‘A’ means near and ‘shram’, from the root ‘sramati’ means to practise or do something.”
“Ah, hah!” went a deeper section in my brain, recognising the profound value in so many non-specific Sanskrit expressions, allowing as they do countless interpretations suited to our current level of understanding. So the phrase remained.
Early this morning it was quiet. A thought arose about a task I needed to perform today. On the program for tonight’s satsang was an entry for 6.55pm: Yogeshwari’s inspiring talk. It was time to get inspired. And up came the words I had so nearly deleted the previous afternoon: an ashram is a place where all are welcome to come and do something for the benefit of body, mind and soul.
What is it that we volunteers actually do? We sweep floors and rake up leaves, we come up with creative ideas for fund raising and follow them through, we research solutions to anything from retreat venues to suppliers of high quality mulch, we smile and welcome newcomers to our centre, we plan and implement a complete reconfiguration of the garden, we forge relationships with local media in order to effectively promote our classes and courses, we manage special events, implement effective search engine marketing, cook, photocopy, fold, laminate, build, repair, clean and polish, systematise, enter data, answer phones, take bookings, edit, stand in for each other, write protocols and procedures, handle money, coordinate wwoofers, twitter, use google adwords and … I would sum it with, “work on constant quality maintenance and quality improvement.”
The most challenging task I have so far been asked to do was introduce Swamiji when he was giving a public talk at the centre after an absence of a couple of years. I was well briefed, knew the important stages of the introduction, knew, in fact, what to say … but what on earth was I supposed to do! Bhakti is wise. Seeing my anxiety she gently explained my role: to make Swamiji feel relaxed and comfortable, to orientate him to the centre and the topic for the evening, and to respond to any needs or directions he might express. Recognising the “something I had to do” allowed me to do it.
What is that word ‘recognition’? It means knowing again, or becoming aware that we in fact already know something. I feel it is recognition that brings all of us to volunteer here, in this ashram. And what we are recognising is the tremendous importance of being born human, carrying with it as it does both the opportunity and responsibility for self-enquiry and self-improvement.
There is a beautiful bhajan that we sing at satsang composed by the mystic saint Kabir. It points out the fragility of this human life, this delicate shawl that has been so carefully woven for us. And how easily we can neglect and damage the shawl, leaving it dirty, full of torn threads and gaping holes.
As Kabir says, When my shawl was ready
I gave it to a dyer for dyeing:
And he dyed it with the softest of reds.
Don’t be shy about wearing this shawl,
It is given to you for just a few days.
Not knowing its secret, foolish people
Allow it to become dirtier day by day.
Doing something
On Thursdays I am unavailable for work or family commitments. Thursday is my volunteer day. The description is inadequate for what I do, but it’s the language I use to describe my activities to the world at large.
I became a volunteer four years ago when I retired from an overwhelming career in TAFE. My last day at TAFE was a Friday. On Monday morning I went to a yoga class, then signed up to volunteer one day a week with Yoga in Daily Life. When asked if I was available for three or six months, my reply was, “Oh no. I’m in for the long haul.”
How did I know? What was it that brought me in through that door with such a strong sense of belonging? The building had beckoned for years before I was free to attend my first Saturday yoga class. Then the standard of teaching and quality of teachers left me, as an educationalist, intrigued as to the foundations on which such quality was built. Even so, when I signed up on that Monday morning I wasn’t consciously aware of what I was really doing. I was joining an ashram.
Yesterday, sitting at my desk at the back of the kitchen, I was working on developing a protocol for external usage of the yoga halls. And the introduction gently reminded users that this was no simple yoga centre. This was an ashram. Then followed a sentence defining ashram as: a place where all are welcome to come and do something for the benefit of body, mind and soul.
The editor in me baulked at the phrase ‘do something’. It sounded so lame – so non-specific. There must be a better way of saying it.
Now someone else happened to be in the room, ‘doing something’ at the kitchen sink. As all writers do when they are stuck, I consulted. The ‘someone’ was fortuitously my philosophy teacher, colleague and mentor Yogasiddhi. “Ah,” she said. “That is a direct translation from Sanskrit asramah. ‘A’ means near and ‘shram’, from the root ‘sramati’ means to practise or do something.”
“Ah, hah!” went a deeper section in my brain, recognising the profound value in so many non-specific Sanskrit expressions, allowing as they do countless interpretations suited to our current level of understanding. So the phrase remained.
Early this morning it was quiet. A thought arose about a task I needed to perform today. On the program for tonight’s satsang was an entry for 6.55pm: Yogeshwari’s inspiring talk. It was time to get inspired. And up came the words I had so nearly deleted the previous afternoon: an ashram is a place where all are welcome to come and do something for the benefit of body, mind and soul.
What is it that we volunteers actually do? We sweep floors and rake up leaves, we come up with creative ideas for fund raising and follow them through, we research solutions to anything from retreat venues to suppliers of high quality mulch, we smile and welcome newcomers to our centre, we plan and implement a complete reconfiguration of the garden, we forge relationships with local media in order to effectively promote our classes and courses, we manage special events, implement effective search engine marketing, cook, photocopy, fold, laminate, build, repair, clean and polish, systematise, enter data, answer phones, take bookings, edit, stand in for each other, write protocols and procedures, handle money, coordinate wwoofers, twitter, use google adwords and … I would sum it with, “work on constant quality maintenance and quality improvement.”
The most challenging task I have so far been asked to do was introduce Swamiji when he was giving a public talk at the centre after an absence of a couple of years. I was well briefed, knew the important stages of the introduction, knew, in fact, what to say … but what on earth was I supposed to do! Bhakti is wise. Seeing my anxiety she gently explained my role: to make Swamiji feel relaxed and comfortable, to orientate him to the centre and the topic for the evening, and to respond to any needs or directions he might express. Recognising the “something I had to do” allowed me to do it.
What is that word ‘recognition’? It means knowing again, or becoming aware that we in fact already know something. I feel it is recognition that brings all of us to volunteer here, in this ashram. And what we are recognising is the tremendous importance of being born human, carrying with it as it does both the opportunity and responsibility for self-enquiry and self-improvement.
There is a beautiful bhajan that we sing at satsang composed by the mystic saint Kabir. It points out the fragility of this human life, this delicate shawl that has been so carefully woven for us. And how easily we can neglect and damage the shawl, leaving it dirty, full of torn threads and gaping holes.
As Kabir says, When my shawl was ready
I gave it to a dyer for dyeing:
And he dyed it with the softest of reds.
Don’t be shy about wearing this shawl,
It is given to you for just a few days.
Not knowing its secret, foolish people
Allow it to become dirtier day by day.
National Volunteer Week is all about recognition. But I feel what we are actually recognising … is recognition. And we who are recognising, and we who are being recognised, as well as what we are being recognised for, is all exactly the same. That is unity – the unity of yoga.
By volunteering at the ashram we are joining a community of wisdom, and by so doing, working at preserving and protecting the fragile weave of our precious shawl. There is even the potential for value adding, of enhancing the soft red of the dye until the shawl begins to glow.
So next time we are invited somewhere and it clashes with our volunteering, what answer are we going to give? We might say, “Sorry. I’m volunteering,” or, “Thursday is my ashram day.” Or we might just say, “Not possible. I’m doing something.”
by Yogeshwari
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