It’s December, Galaxy friends! As we approach the end of the year, the pacing of our lives can seem really frantic. I hope you can take time out to slow down, ground yourself in the present moment, and hopefully continue to practice gratitude, like we did all last month - I was saying in my classes last weekend that gratitude is the doorway to joy, and I believe it.

This month, we’re diving into the theme of Bhakti, which can be broadly described as the practice of a personal devotion to a deity. In the tradition of Yoga and Hinduism, it’s most often associated with worship of Shiva or Vishnu. If you’ve ever seen Hare Krishna devotees dancing through the streets and chanting, that’s a manifestation of the Bhakti practice (Krishna is an avatar, or incarnation, of Vishnu).

Bhakti actually just translates as devotion, worship, and participation. It’s distinct from the more intellectual or contemplative traditions, in that it forges a predominantly emotional, loving connection with the divine, that often transcends the realms of logic and reason.

Bhakti is a bit of a tricky concept for me, personally. I’ve got more than a touch of cynicism, and I’m inclined to doubt most otherworldly, fantastical, energetic, and spiritual pursuits. I don’t know how well that pairs with my lifelong immersion of yoga, but I do think my cynicism is part of what has kept me grounded through all these years in the mystical realms. Cynicism aside, I still find a lot of inspiration in the realms of the spiritual, but I bristle at the idea of surrendering to a higher power, which is partially what Bhakti is about. I’m not sure I’ll ever come to terms with concepts like “it’s God’s will.” But what I do love about Bhakti is the overt celebration of devotion that is intrinsic to it - you’re meant to sing and dance and recite beautiful poetry to proclaim your devotion to your God, and I like that.

I grew up a church-going Lutheran, because church was important to my Dad. I can’t say that I ever felt a powerful connection to the Gods of Christianity, but I did feel a powerful… something… when I would sing in church. I still do. Music, especially singing, and especially singing together with other people does documented amazing things to our brains (see my book pick for more on this). Music stays with us long after other memories and mental functions have departed. And music can transport us to the elevated realms that I suppose one could call “spiritual” - faster than anything else could.

When I was getting ready to receive my first communion as a 3rd grader, age 8 (about the time I started my yoga practice, interestingly enough), we had a series of preparatory classes with our church pastor. At the last one, Pastor Beth took a moment to ask whether we might be expecting something magical or otherworldly to happen, that first time we took the bread and wine (and it WAS wine at my church!). She warned us not to get too attached to that idea, saying, “A miracle isn’t going to happen.”

I was disappointed at the time, and yes, there was more than a little hope that during that first communion, the heavens would open, and I’d catch a glimpse of an angel choir, or Buddy Jesus would peek out from behind a cloud and wink. So I was kind of bummed.

But in the absence of a capital-M Miracle that day, I’m surprised at what I remember, quite vividly: sitting in the church pew, next to my Dad, singing hymns with him. He had a loud voice, and he loved to sing, like me. Since communion Sundays took a little longer, as people walked up to receive the blood and body of Christ, we filled in the time by singing hymns. And that sweet memory of singing with my Dad, my sight-reading the harmony parts, him on the lead, nice and loud… that’s a miracle. That’s bhakti, to me - emotional and devotional, not even a tiny bit logical, but 100% in my heart, blood and bones as a forever memory, and probably the closest to feeling like God is real that I’ll get.

And because I’ve really grown to like when you email me back… I’m curious if any of you have had moments like this - where something simple, or out of the context of “church” or worship gave you a feeling of bhakti? Email me and tell me all about it.

If you’re hanging out in class with me this month, you can expect to spend a little time listening to and perhaps participating in chants. I always translate and context them to the best of my ability, and like all things we practice in the Galaxy, participation is voluntary. I also have to say that I’m proud that our 200-Hour Practice Immersion and Teacher Training goes heavy on the chanting! It’s important!

And I really want to encourage you, if you’re not a singer, or if you’re uncertain if you CAN sing (my opinion: everyone can sing), or you’re feeling self conscious… just give it a whirl. You might surprise yourself. As the great songwriter Joe Raposo said, “Don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear, just sing! Sing a song!”