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Philosophising Our Way to Wellness: Environmental Spiritualism & the All

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The Vegan Update

The Vegan Update

Philosophising Our Way to Wellness:

Environmental Spiritualism & the All

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“Nutrients are recycled throughout nature, throughout millennia, this is the essence of life, life is a beautifully complex selforganising combination of elements that come from stardust and will eventually return to the cosmos.”

- Jane Cull

The volition to do good by the planet is an honest one not nurtured on a whim. It takes a true, heartfelt self-questioning to reach the point where, after considerable hours of contemplation, we set ourselves the task of amending our ways for the benefit of the greater good; not necessarily because we want to, but because we must. After all, an individual’s impact multiplied by billions of other individuals’ impacts becomes a veritable human movement, a species-driven shift to save the Earth before it’s too late. The debates rage on, but there is not as yet a panacea lifestyle prescription that encompasses suiting everyone (including medically) with ameliorating the state of the environment and adhering to ethical consideration of all sentient non-human animals. So it is that there can be voiced questions such as the seemingly ridiculous “Is bone broth vegan?”, contemplating (a) how vegans assert we must eat the plants for their nutritional benefits directly, rather than as processed through animals and, also, (b) the interconnectedness of life and how a vegan diet still results in the deaths of small animals and insects in fields ploughed (and chemically treated if the farm is nonorganic; or fertilised with bone meal if the farm is biodynamically managed – very few use seaweed – in which case why not sip on bone broth directly?). Points of view are thus myriad and all is cyclical, an endless rolling wheel of birth, and life, and death. Yet, as planets orbit the sun, so Mankind has come to believe that everything else revolves around itself. How very wrong we are.

Musing on this oneness of existence, it’s not too far a step to considering not just our corporeal body within the grand cosmic scheme of things (cosmic skeptic Youtuber, Alex J. O’Connor’s ethics videos aside), but our consciousness too. Indeed, that is Yoga’s essential purpose – a veritable yoking of the mind, the monkey chatter (Yogas chitta vritti nirodha, as Pantanjali put it), bringing our thoughts into stillness, into equilibrium: into alignment with the All. The very chant of Om (or Aum) is a voicing to that unity. Or, at the very least, that is the aim. Cosmic Prana (or Mahaprana) is the essential life energy of everything in the universe. Mahaprana is present in both sentient and insentient beings, infusing all life with the spark of existence – from the ocean’s body of water to the creatures within it that call it home, to the rainbow spectrum of coloured light that filters through to the ground beneath our feet and the vibrational energy of being that trembles even within a stone. According to yogic thinking, humans have five coexistent levels of energy: the koshas (or “sheaths”, or bodies). Prana pervades them all, interconnects them all – as it does all of us and everything.

Annamaya kosha (the physical or food body)

We depend on food and water (and air) for life, given us by prana. This is the reality of the Annamaya kosha.

Manomaya kosha (the mental body)

A subtle body, Manomaya kosha is the messenger between Annamaya and Pranamaya koshas, conveying sensations and experiences from the external environment to the internal.

Pranamaya kosha (the pranic body) In combination with Annamaya kosha, Pranamaya kosha constitutes the basic human structure: Atmapuri (or “city of the soul”).

Anadamaya kosha (the blissful body)

The transcendental subtle body, Anandamaya kosha cannot be defined, it is said (only sagely experienced).

Vijnanamaya kosha (the astral or psychic body)

The second of the three subtle bodies, Vijnanmaya kosha permits intuition and comprehension of the reality of situations, rather than reacting without thought and manifesting illusions of false understanding (assumptions can be dangerous things, after all…).

Fundamentally, this awakening to the whole is not just a yogic practice wherein meditation in asanas and seated mindfulness permits us to see beauty in a life that challenges us often (sadly, frequently with circumstances dire and beyond our control), but a practice that is taking place in the recent mass awakening to climate change. The environmental issue – the planet-wide problem of global warming and its effects on the future – have brought human into dialogue with human, and a noticeable praxis is ensuing.

It goes without saying that the pandemic hit the reset button on the old day-to-day way of things. However, what it also did was open our minds to a return to a Nature-based way of living, reminiscent of traditional indigenous spiritual practices and Wordsworthian awe (perhaps with a lesser outpouring of words, though). Only being allowed out once in a 24-hour period for exercise and mental wellbeing certainly shifted something in our psyches, nonetheless: where we could no longer take comfort in the company of others, we sought connection with the outdoors, communing not with friends and strangers alike in courtesy, but sensing we belonged to a secret rhythm shared with other creatures, too (not to the extent of some Snow White psychological complex, but you get our meaning…). Even trees seemed to hum with a vibration to which the very blood in our veins thrummed along with in time – one can indeed see sense in the wonder of scientists at the mycelium “highways” that thread the Earth beneath the surface (and also find uncannily appropriate the Na’vi content of James Cameron’s Avatar…).

In short, the flame of a rediscovered environmental spiritualism has begun burning again. It is how most of us were able to stay sane throughout the lockdowns: if part of a grand design, what real suffering in a little hardship and loss of freedom for a while? The sensation, though, is nothing new. Boccaccio’s Decameronian principles for survival aside, explorers back in the 17th century would discover the sublime in the wild, ignoring the inherited perception of a remnant evil in those untamed spaces, still seeping out from the broken paradise of the Garden of Eden. Yet, it wasn’t really until Henry David Thoreau in the 19th century, with his Eastern influences, spiritualised in a western sense immersion in Nature. The Church was transcended for a divinity communicable not at an altar of bricks and mortar – something indigenous cultures never forgot.

However, Nature can be honoured even at home, in green-fingered manner: in that lovingly tended balcony garden, in those humble window box herbs, and – yes – in that quintessential English cottage garden with its intricately plotted out vegetable patch and beans strung upon the lattice, ornamental plants interspersed around the edges and in between for variance and promotion of wildlife. A green spirituality, then, is what is thriving today. It is as if chlorophyll, like some magic speck of dust, has like the Snow Queen’s icy flake to an innocent’s eye penetrated our blood with its verdancy and reawakened our sensory connection to the planet. Or something like that. To return to yogic practice, if we think of the salutation cycles – one to the sun and one to the moon – they too are cosmically focussed on totality of self in unity with all. And the asanas themselves are often inspired by other species (e.g. camel, tortoise, dolphin). But when it comes to meditation, according to the principles of Kripalu Yoga, there are certain practices which specifically align with our wishes for the future of this planet, living each day mindfully, with compassion and with respect. The key is to think elementally:

Air Meditation

When you’re pottering outdoors with those beloved plants, or when you’re simply engaging

in the summer to walk barefoot on a sandy beach for such meditative practice, in the wet and windy winters of Grand Bretagne the satisfying squelch of mud beneath a wellington boot can evoke similar joyful calm. Focus on the rhythm of your gait and listen to the sounds of the outdoors as you journey without destination or time parameters (ideally).

You might also like, on crisply dry wintry days, to shift your yoga practice itself to outside, placing a blanket on the ground for comfort and some protection (though the Scandis have it right, perhaps, with their yoga gloves and socks for grip and heat-retention). Either which way, touch from palm or foot to the earth is what you’re looking for in re-bonding with this beautiful planet of ours.

in some forest-bathing, breathe deeply. By simply inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide, you are feeding the floral life around you, assisting the natural process that is photosynthesis. By also doing this consciously, with intent, your active meditation becomes a practical endeavour of reunion with the natural ecosystem humans belong to.

If you want to take air meditation even further, you might care to employ Three-Part Breath (or Dirgha pranayama). Stand or sit with an elongated spine, remaining relaxed, and breathe deeply into first the stomach area, before the ribcage, and then the upper chest to the collarbones. Exhale similarly in a three-part manner, from collarbones to stomach.

Earth Meditation

Get your hiking boots on and connect those (protected) soles to the soil. Although it’s lovely the point of mesmerisation by the rhythm and subtle hissing-crackling white noise of the burning process of the wood being consumed. We have arguably inherited the ability to be hypnotised by fire from our ancestors, who would sit around a fire for heat and survival every night. Indeed, if you stare long enough into the flames, you can tumble into a trance of sorts. And this is where fire meditation comes into effect.

Tratak, or gazing meditation, can employ any object (whether it be the ocean, an ancient tree, a simple cloud that catches the eye). The point is to look at the object intently in order to tumble into meditation. Candle meditation is a minimised form of fire gazing. Ensure you’re warm if employing only a candle (whereas a log fire might give sufficient heat, candle gazing will need a warm blanket around the shoulders for enveloping comfort). Then, turn out all the lights and gently settle your gaze on the flame. It has been shown that when we focus on a flickering flame, we leave the beta brainwave stage (alert thought processing) and shift instead to an alpha brainwave state (relaxed creativity), before shifting again to theta brainwaves (intuition and a meditative state). It is when theta brainwaves occur that we become more receptive, or open-minded; it is when amazing ideas can form…

Fire Meditation

Few of us won’t have looked into the dancing flames of a fireplace in use and not been calmed to

might not all have nearby access to rivers, streams, brooks, or – erm – waterfalls, but whichever liquid form it takes (ice might not have the same effect, however little of it is left even in the North), the flow and the sound of that constant energy draws us in, connecting to our very liquid selves, too.

Water Meditation

Similar to flame, the kinetic energy of a body of water provides focus for meditation, also. We

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