by Aaron Jay
I never had to hunt my meat but I had to skin and butcher more and more different animals that Remus dropped by the cook fire. The camp stove had disappeared some nights ago. I had to rebuild the firepit surrounded with stones that Lemminkäinen first built with me, over and over until the task was simple for me. I had access to a book written for some class, or maybe it was a profession. It was called “Scoutmaster,” which seemed like a support version of a Ranger class. The manual was filled with lots of useful information. The book lectured me for what I thought was a ridiculous amount of time about fire safety. Apparently, I might draw aggro from a named Boss called Smokey if I didn’t douse my ashes and stir the coals to make sure the fire was truly out.
Life in the woods with Remus became normal. On cold nights. he would lie beside me letting his warmth protect me from the gusts that would find their way through the branches of my lean-to. We’d play tug of war. Or just sit by the fire before going to sleep.
Every day my yoga practice became more and more of an old friend. While I worried about learning other skills, and of course the wager and my life IRL, I could tell the yoga was doing something to me.
I still had no idea how this would enable me to use magic and neither Mordecai nor Lemminkäinen would tell me anything other than to be patient. To be present. Dedicate my practice to the intention of learning and breath.
Eventually we moved up through even harder poses. Inversions, hand stands, or poses where we were balanced on a single leg.
At first, poses like this were about strength. Making my arms strong enough to hold me up. My shoulders strong enough to correct and shift my balance. My upper back strong enough to lift myself up. Then these poses became about flexibility. Curving the spine to get to a deeper balance. Tucking my legs deeper to get more of my body over the center of balance. Then they were about balance. Playing into the pose with subtle shifts to emphasize certain muscles or certain types of stretches. Finally, the poses were just about breathing correctly no matter what my body was doing.
At times Mordecai or Lemminkäinen would even tell one of the other students to look at some aspect of my pose to help them understand it.
We learned to hold poses for longer and longer times. Mordecai would “load” us into poses and we would stay there for half an hour at a time as he or Lemminkäinen gave what they called “dharma talks,”
. “As you breathe let us think about frustration and pain. You are experiencing some pain from the stretch of this pose. How do you respond to this pain? Be aware of it--but you don’t jerk or strain or clench, correct? Now think about some things that might be bothering you outside of this yoga practice. How do you respond to those pains or frustrations? Just as you have instinctive responses to the pain of the body so do you have habits of mind and action in response to pains of the soul or heart. Just as you can become mindful of how your body reacts to pain and how you would better choose to react, so too can you become mindful of the pains of your emotional life and perhaps have a healthier response to those pains,” lectured Lemminkäinen in his deep tones.
Another time Mordecai told me the Parable of the Bull. “Imagine that you are a cowherd. There is a bull. The bull is wild and untamed to the yoke. It is angry. It is afraid. You have a rope around the bull’s neck. Should you hang onto it? Control the Bull! You are a cowherd. It is your responsibility to control the bull! But what will happen if you try to stop a bull with a rope? If you hang onto the bull it will just pull you off your feet. Off your balance. It will drag you through the dirt and hurt you. You cannot control the bull. Isn’t it the path of wisdom to better observe the bull? To let it go. To merely be aware of it and only take up the rope when it is no longer wild and upset? To see that fighting with the bull will only keep it from calming? So too with your mind. With your emotions. Observe the emotions. Experience them. But do not grab onto them. Do not try to control them. If you are angry or afraid or sad, trying to control and stop those feelings is no more possible than wrestling a bull. But you can observe. You can experience, and then choose your actions. So too with your body. Be aware of your body. But do not try to control all of it all of the time. Be aware of it. Experience it.”
Despite their urgings to put aside the more negative emotions and embrace feelings of peace and contentment, that wasn’t what I took away from these dharma talks. I embraced the control that came from knowing that I often wasn’t in control. I could not control Jude’s choice to side with the Eastmans. I couldn’t control the GMs. I couldn’t control my father’s illness. I couldn’t control The Game. But I could play the Game. I could find happiness in the playing.
At my masters’ urging I struggled with a pose until my hands were clasped behind me one arm stretched down from over my shoulder to meet the other which came up from below. Cow faced pose or Gomukhasana.
My chest was stretched, opening wider and wider as I sat. My hips felt a slow burn as they were stretched. Each breath pulled at my shoulders and from there into my hips. I watched as sweat formed and slid down over my nose. My breath hissed in my ears.
“You may have been harmed or hurt in your life. Does your anger or fear over that change anything? Doesn’t obsessing and clasping onto these pains just add to the harm done you? If you grabbed a jagged rock would you keep clenching it, cutting your hand even deeper?” said Mordecai. He was in the same pose as me but I could hear no stress or strain in his voice as he talked.
“You had a friend who disappointed you. Perhaps betrayed you. Does being angry do anything about this? Does it fix the betrayal or does it merely keep the betrayal present and clouding your thoughts on and on until you let it go?” continued Lemminkäinen.
“Masters, your advice may be best for my happiness and mental health. But it seems too passive. It seems to urge acceptance. I cannot accept the actions of my enemies. I will not accept the fate of a slave,” I gasped through my sweat.
Lemminkäinen laughed. “If you knew us and the things we have done, the battles we have fought, you would not think us so pacifist. We are saying you need to fight the battles you need to fight. Don’t fight illusory battles long past within yourself. Fight the fights that you need or want to fight, that are here in the moment. Don’t fight Maya or illusion.”
“You have enemies. Perhaps you will succeed in taking your vengeance. It is your wyrd, your fate, your dharma to struggle against them. We all receive injuries in life. Those you are carrying with you are merely the first of the pains you will take in this struggle. To fight you must accept the pains that come your way and then let them pass through you so you can see clearly the path of right action before you. Who exactly is giving you a wound that cannot heal if you cannot do that? Your enemies or you?” Mordecai held me with his dark eyes.
“All of this is illusion. You must see beyond the veil of illusion to what truly is,” said Lemminkäinen.
“Yes, I know,” I said.
“…”
My teachers were surprised that I so easily accepted the truth of how the world was illusion. But of course our modern world was based on illusion. Being trapped in a virtual world was the perfect tool for understanding that the only true thing is the choices you make and your reasons for making them. The rest--in a much more technological sense than my teachers meant--is indeed an illusion. But who is to say what reality is? I had spent my entire life constantly aware of how much of what was around us and what was considered important was illusory. Our whole society was based on purposefully choosing maya over reality.
After that session, no one else came to the classes. It was just me and my two teachers. Sometimes they would join me at my campsite and we would start our sun salutation with the virtual sunrise.
Sometimes they would take me to other places as we practiced. They would train me in a jungle clearing, letting the humid heat inform my muscle and sweat. The fetid redolent heat of the jungle air would press into my lungs and belly. The air so rich and thick with plant rot and vapor it felt like I was b
reathing water. My sweat was useless at cooling me off. They urged me to be aware of the coating of heat surrounding my body.
Or, they would take me to the shore of a mountain glacier lake. The air so crisp it hurt as I inhaled. Where the heat I cultivated was the only thing that kept the frigid air from stiffening me. I could see my breath leave as frozen vapor. To mitigate the sting of its coldness I had to take it in ever so slowly. Even then I could feel its icy burn as it entered and I knew the exact size of my lungs and the extent I could cultivate my breath.
Finally, after I don’t know how long, I realized that the asanas or poses were all about breath. Increasing my strength, flexibility, balance, or ability to be mentally present--all of it was about my breath.
“Masters. You are teaching me to breathe!”
The two of them looked at each other and began to laugh.
“Finally!” cried Mordecai.
And that is how I finally began the study of pranayama and the ways of magic.
“You are now ready to learn more of Prāṇāyāma. Prana means life force or energy or also breath in Sanskrit. Yama means control or restrain. Prana can be taken in using other methods but breath is the best. Once taken in and restrained your body will cultivate it into your blood and other areas,” said Lemminkäinen
“We have been working with Ujjayi Breath throughout all these asanas or poses. Ujjayi is Victorious or Conquering breath. It is the only breath technique you can safely use while active. All other methods of cultivating prana need you to be still,” Mordecai informed me.
“That is why I thought we should have begun with Tu-Na Daoist breathing and QiGong. Three part embryonic breathing is a much stronger and quicker cultivation technique,” said Lemminkäinen.
“This again.” griped Mordecai to Lemminkäinen.
“Am I wrong?” he retorted.
“You are not wrong. But you aren’t right, either.”
Remus growled at them. My two masters weren’t necessarily afraid of Remus but they did stop their bickering.
“Yes. It was believed by some,” Lemminkäinen carefully didn’t look at Remus, “that you were too upset and in too much emotional turmoil for Tao or QiGong efforts at first. And as we have started with Yogic practice let us continue.”
“We will work on three types of technique,” Mordecai chimed in helpfully.
“Three stage breath is Daoist you know,” muttered Lemminkäinen
Remus got up and moved just behind Lemminkäinen. Lemminkäinen didn’t make any overt show of concern but he clearly focused on my training, not on the massive wolf sitting just inside his peripheral vision.
“First we will work on techniques for clearing your channels. We begin with Agni Prana or "Breath of Fire." Sit in Lotus. Place your hand on your navel. This breath is a forceful diaphragm technique. Close your mouth. Now make short sharp breaths. Feel your diaphragm tense as it forces the air out in bursts.”
I chuffed air out of my nose.
“Faster.”
I chuffed faster.
“Faster”
I started to become lightheaded. Breathe out out out. Burst burst burst.
Mordecai started laughing.
“What is missing?”
I had no idea.
“What do you do when you breathe?”
I started to ponder this question.
“I am not giving you a Buddhist Koan. I am just asking a question. What do you do when you breath?”
“You take air in and out of you.”
“Yes. So what is missing? Also, we will call air Prana here and now. The concept of Prana captures not just the oxygen and nitrogen but the soul or life force that you are also attempting to capture. Anyway, what is missing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
So I pumped the air out through my nose. I attempted to keep the breaths short and sharp. At my master’s urging I went faster and faster. Once again I started becoming lightheaded and things felt out of balance.
“It is like you have forgotten everything we have been working on.”
I was confused and must have looked it.
“What part of the body is working this breath?”
“My diaphragm.”
“And what should the rest of your body be doing while your diaphragm works?”
Just as in the Yoga poses, much of the practice was about only using the muscles that were meant to be used. I had been tensing to help force the air. My alignment was off as I sat in simple lotus practicing my breath. As I tried for faster and faster breaths my form degraded.
I had an epiphany. The Yoga practices before were huge, active, noisy body movements designed to help train my mind and awareness of my body so I could study these subtler practices.
I re-centered myself. I began Breath of Fire. My form was better. I kept from jerking or tensing my back or arms or throat in time with my diaphragm, yet as I went faster and faster I still grew lightheaded.
“What do you do when you breathe?”
I had already answered this correctly the last time so I knew the answer.
“I take breath in and out.”
“So, what is missing from your technique?”
“In! I am not taking enough air in. Breath is in and out.”
“Exactly. In this technique your breath must be exactly even as it moves in and out. It is driven from the diaphragm but you must focus on the nose.”
And so I learned my first cleansing breath technique. Breath of Fire.
The next cleansing technique was Kapalabhati or Shining Skull Technique. A cycle of short breaths; we usually did ten but it really depended on your own sense of your body and channels. This was through the nose as well, and at the end of the cycle you ended on one long drawn out hiss. Learning how many repetitions the cycle should take was difficult. More difficult than Crow Pose. It demanded better awareness of my body than when Mordecai had me in Cow Face or King Pigeon for hours on end.
In the afternoons Remus and one or both of the masters and I wandered the woods. I would maintain Ujjayi breath as we hiked. Breathing in time to my steps. Remus would bring me to different herbs, bushes, and trees. I’d collect seed pods, leaves, roots, inner barks, outer barks, tendrils. Other times we would wander in the mornings so I could see the same plant before its petals had opened or its leaves uncurled. Weeks passed before I finished the cleansing breath techniques they wished to teach me. I still didn’t know exactly how this would let me do magic in the game, but I felt like we were building towards something. While I was still going to punish Arneson, I knew that I would never have learned any of this in the game.
More weeks passed and the seasons changed as I learned the cultivation breathing techniques.
Bhramari prāṇāyāma, "bee breath," where I learned to make a humming sound while breathing. Kumbhaka prāṇāyāma, “Breath retention,” controlling both antara (holding in) and bhaya (holding out) while focusing on the moments between breaths. Shitali prāṇāyāma, "cooling breath," where the inhalation is drawn over the curled and extended tongue. Sama vṛtti prāṇāyāma, "even breathing," where the inhale and exhale are of equal size and duration.
Much of my day wasn’t spent in practice or cultivation. We continued our hikes and explorations and I got to see the same plants in different seasons. I learned how some plants’ roots were useful when they sprouted but after they matured you only wanted to harvest the seeds.
My masters always kept their distance. I was their student and they were my teachers. Remus was my only real companion over these months. When I had been told he was my brother, I had figured this for so much dream nonsense. How could I relate to an animal, a wolf? As time passed I came to know him as a person. His humor was what brought me to love him. It was incredibly dry humor most of the time. Well, he wasn’t going to be cracking puns, was he? But he could nail a joke with a cock of his brows or twitch of his ears. His best move was when he would look at my Masters with put-on doggy
stupidity. No other animal can convey ignorant innocence like a dog. Cats may be able to emanate utter unconcern for you, but dogs are able to look at you with complete guileless and abject helpfulness while being utterly oblivious to what you are trying to get across to them. For someone who couldn’t talk, he never seemed to struggle to get his point across. He also enjoyed low humor. Bringing live critters into the lean-to was the height of comedy to him. What he really loved was people’s reactions as he gave them his ignorant dog look afterwards. He was always happy just where he was. He could happily lie nearby as I read a book by a mountain stream, and as soon as I was ready to get up and explore he’d do a downward dog stretch that put my form to shame and be ready to go.
Eventually, my breath was considered developed enough to learn the last two techniques.
Visama vṛtti, "uneven breathing," was very difficult. I had to maintain specific ratios between inhale, retention, and exhale. For example, Mordecai had me inhale for a beat of one then retain the breath for a beat of four and finish with an exhale for a beat of two. Breath controlled in a deeper rhythm yet still even within the ratios. The rest of my body perfectly stilled and aligned. It drew on my previous practices. I couldn’t have done it without the earlier studies. All of it built on itself. From the moment I stood at the front of my yoga mat with the ladies in yoga pants--just stood there--to my current studies.
“It took me weeks to master standing and now I am thinking how I am hot stuff because I can breathe in and out,” I said to Remus. “Look at me, Remus. I can stand and breathe. If I ever move up to walking and chewing gum, watch out.”
He gave me his trademark grin.
Finally, we began Udgeeth prāṇāyāma, "chanting prāṇāyāma." Where you learn to breathe with a mantra. We started with the classic Om. But then Lemminkäinen started making longer and more complicated mantras for me. Then he started having me repeat epigrams as I breathed and chanted like, “It comes once a year/But it fades with fear.” Or “That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.” Or “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.” When he had me chant “abracadabra” over and over with my yogic breathing technique--using the ratios to fit the syllables--I realized what they had taught me. I could replenish my Prana. Change the Pr for an M and I could refill myself with Prana/Mana. I could chant. Abracadabra, Fireball, Ernest’s Crushing Disc, or Shocking Grasp. I was just about ready to practice magic.
