Does Compassion start in the viscera before it enters the Soul

This weekend I had the good fortune of doing as ashtanga workshop with the senior ashtanga teacher Richard Freeman from Boulder,Colorado. I had previously studied with Richard in various ashtanga trainings of his, but this time it felt like what he was imparting upon me gently fell inside of me to a place of understanding and knowing that I could not explain very well in words. I will do my best at explaining to you that which really does not have words to explain.
Of late, I have been puzzled personally by the meaning of the word "compassion" and what does it really mean to live one's life by doing acts of compassion at times when feel burdened,annoyed or even with disdainful,discompassionate feelings towards other human beings. At times, lately I have felt annoyed by the cavalier usage of the word that seems to appear everywhere these days. I was thinking about my yoga practice and whether it had anything a all to do with putting compassion into action in the world and I am I only deluding myself and participating in a form of narcissism and calisthenics looking down at my own navel.
This weekend, I had a startling realization as I closely listened to what Richard was trying to teach us. Richard talked at one point about the ashtanga practice really being "just pranayama". I was amused at hearing the word "just" next to pranayama, as I experience the practice of pranayama to be so infinitely complex ,yet so simple.Richard explained how the breath moving up through the soft palate creates the opening and closing of the uvula in such a way that one is almost saying "Aaahhh" and how this visceral sensation drops through the body through the psoas muscle eventually and down into the mula bhanda. He talked of this dropping sensation, this feeling of relief, leading to a feeling of suspension of thought. Richard explained that in this position of the palate, it is not really possible to speak. I thought about how speech and words are linked directly to memory and thoughts and without the spontaneous retrieval of words ,thoughts blur,and thus we have less judgements available in such a state of being.. Richard talked about the sensation of this dropping in the palate down into the pelvic floor to be similar to laughing, the aaahhh feeling when something in nature is so majestic we are stunned, with no words,where we are in a state of extreme listening and attention, but at the same time not really thinking. He then talked about this is the state from which compassion arises for ourselves, for all sentient beings.
I thought for a minute of how I have felt micro moments of this sensation during an asana practice where my body felt like the breath had dropped down releasing my muscles into this relaxed state of equanimity, forgiveness in some strange way for myself. The feeling is fleeting, ineffable, uncontainable. I asked Richard, if it is possible for me to have these brief moments of such exquisite compassion, how can I carry this with me into the moment by moment yoga of my life where compassion really matters when I am challenged by anger, hostility,fear, ignorance, judgement. impatience and intolerance. Richard explained that the feeling of that letting go , of neutrality , of coming down is present and contained in our breath as it traverses the palate to the mula and is always accessible if we listen to ourselves first, our own breath/It is possible from that neutral position within to see more clearly that in me is everything I fear or dislike or love or admire in any other person, and in the other, there is all of me that I may care not to see, that in the absence of gripping in visceral space I can experience the rich and complex fabric of our sameness and humanness and from that position of calm,letting go the imagined perception of myself and others dissolves in the present moment as it is becomes unavailable ,unobscured , without the mirage of memory, preconceived notions and judgement. It starts with a soft smile in the palate ,with movement through the muscles of the soft palate to a profound space of softness within where compassion can and does exist.I am more aware now that ancient practices described in the yoga sutras and other ancient texts of other cultures were created by human beings like me and you trying to find instruction and guidance to live more harmoniously with ourselves and in our interactions with others. I do believe that yoga is one of the many practices, if practiced diligently and sincerely that can allow us to consider a life filled with greater compassion and joy in its truest form. Thank you, Richard Freeman for helping to come closer to this understanding.

Are We not ,all of us....Baby Tortoises...."not yet awake"

Baby Tortoise
by D. H. Lawrence

You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!

The first day to heave your feet little by little from
the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.

A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.

To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would
never open
Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base
And reach your skinny neck
And take your first bite at some dim bit of herbage,
Alone, small insect,
Tiny bright-eye,
Slow one.

To take your first solitary bite
And move on your slow, solitary hunt.
Your bright, dark little eye,
Your eye of a dark disturbed night,
Under its slow lid, tiny baby tortoise,
So indomitable.

No one ever heard you complain.

You draw your head forward, slowly, from your little
wimple
And set forward, slow-dragging, on your four-pinned toes,
Rowing slowly forward.
Wither away, small bird?
Rather like a baby working its limbs,
Except that you make slow, ageless progress
And a baby makes none.

The touch of sun excites you,
And the long ages, and the lingering chill
Make you pause to yawn,
Opening your impervious mouth,
Suddenly beak-shaped, and very wide, like some suddenly
gaping pincers;
Soft red tongue, and hard thin gums,
Then close the wedge of your little mountain front,
Your face, baby tortoise.

Do you wonder at the world, as slowly you turn your head
in its wimple
And look with laconic, black eyes?
Or is sleep coming over you again,
The non-life?

You are so hard to wake.

Are you able to wonder?
Or is it just your indomitable will and pride of the
first life
Looking round
And slowly pitching itself against the inertia
Which had seemed invincible?

The vast inanimate,
And the fine brilliance of your so tiny eye,
Challenger.

Nay, tiny shell-bird.
What a huge vast inanimate it is, that you must row
against,
What an incalculable inertia.

Challenger,
Little Ulysses, fore-runner,
No bigger than my thumb-nail,
Buon viaggio.

All animate creation on your shoulder,
Set forth, little Titan, under your battle-shield.
The ponderous, preponderate,
Inanimate universe;
And you are slowly moving, pioneer, you alone.

How vivid your travelling seems now, in the troubled
sunshine,
Stoic, Ulyssean atom;
Suddenly hasty, reckless, on high toes.

Voiceless little bird,
Resting your head half out of your wimple
In the slow dignity of your eternal pause.
Alone, with no sense of being alone,
And hence six times more solitary;
Fulfilled of the slow passion of pitching through
immemorial ages
Your little round house in the midst of chaos.

Over the garden earth,
Small bird,
Over the edge of all things.

Traveller,
With your tail tucked a little on one side
Like a gentleman in a long-skirted coat.

All life carried on your shoulder,
Invincible fore-runner.



"Are we able to wonder" despite,being"over the edge of all things" and with "all life carried on your shoulder"

Poetry starts in childhood

The Eagle

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

"Music is ....our hope,our G-d"words of the inspiring Alice