Oxford: Stay Weird

Some friends reminded me that it’s twenty years ago — to the very day — that we walked through the Porters’ Lodge at Magdalen College to start our first day at university. It seemed a fitting time to sit down and write about the Oxford Retreat, which was held just a few weeks ago, also at Magdalen, from 22nd to 26th August 2024. 

The theme of the retreat was, rather aptly, ‘Roots’, and what a journey of twists and turns it’s been since the seed first sprouted two years ago. There was certainly a lot of unfolding, but also much recoiling in my mind over what shape the retreat should take. I’ll admit, it was a challenge to land on something that was relatable to every yogi, captured the essence of our unique surroundings in the ancient city, and yet also spoke to me personally. But as with many problems, the solution made itself known by arriving suddenly, clearly, and simply.

After much head-scratching and hand-wringing, I wondered, ‘Why am I dragging people over land and sea to this weird yet wonderful city of Oxford?’ Then my roots as a young English Lit undergrad took hold, and I felt the pleasantly uncontrollable urge to do some etymological digging… The word ‘weird’ is, in fact, of Germanic origin – Anglo-Saxon to be precise (also known as Old English). Its original form, wyrd, means ‘destiny’, and by the 14th century it was being used in Middle English (the lingua franca at the time) as an adjective, roughly meaning ‘having the power to control destiny.’ Shakespeare’s three witches, or the Fates (known as the ‘weird sisters’), might spring to mind. With this knowledge, our modern usage of the word to mean ‘odd, unearthly’ can still keep a glimmer of that ancient sense. So, when we point a finger and say, ‘Weird!’, we are acknowledging not only oddity, but also a strange, deep, unspoken power. In the presence of the weird, our very roots are shaken.

Oxford is weird, in this full sense of the word, as I think the yogis who attended the retreat would agree. As a place, its destiny has been to remain relatively unchanged for the past thousand years. And yet, within its confines, an incredible tapestry of personalities, ideas, theorems, proofs, and spoofs has been woven. It is this juxtaposition of stability and mystery that was the root of my fascination with the place as a young, wide-eyed, floppy-haired undergraduate, walking into St. John’s Quad on 4th October 2004. And it was this same, bewitching wyrd-ness that welcomed us from all across Europe in 2024. 

Naturally, the idea of roots has had a prominent place in my life ever since moving to Zürich, exactly 6 years ago this month. Of course, it’s a city that brings a melange of languages, cultures, and identities together, so journeys and origins are naturally an important part of the collective consciousness here. But to this Buccaneering Brexiteer, it was my first actual move of home abroad. And it really made me feel the pull on my roots. Such feelings were undoubtedly turbo-charged for all of us over the series of COVID-19 lockdowns, as immobility and isolation made us pay attention to, and reflect on, where exactly we felt most grounded, or most dislocated. From offices to homes, recreation to relationships, everything came under heightened scrutiny, and for many people, in many different ways, much had to fall apart before it could come together once more.

The extent to which people were able to navigate those difficult days came down to the strength of their roots. Of course ‘roots’ doesn’t simply refer to geography, but also to our behaviour as people — our wonted expressions as individuals. We are, for better or worse, creatures of habit, with attachments and predispositions that stretch back minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, and even lifetimes. Without wanting to slip into karmic cliché, I’ll simply say that we are forever living out our present moment, which is continuously being nourished or choked by the actions - and inactions - of our past. It is on our earthly roots that our unearthly futures depend, so giving them a butcher’s, a good old shake, and a chop every once in a while does wonders. And that is precisely what we did in Oxford, whether dancing barefoot under the very tree that J. R. R. Tolkien used to sit and muse, meditating in the crisp morning air under the 200 year old arches of New Buildings, drumming in unison in the Botanic Gardens, or raising a glass together in the 643 year-old Turf Tavern.

With a firm hold of the concept of the ‘roots’ in our lives, we can begin to untangle, declutter, and grow. Whether physically or psychologically, the roots we put down shouldn’t constrict us, but give us berth for greater freedom to explore in body, mind, and soul. But a vigorous root system isn’t a one way process, as the Japanese understand well with the art of bonsai; healthy roots need care and nourishment, just as healthy humans need to take care of the bodies and minds they currently have. How often do we resent our poor bodies or minds, seeing the flaws and shortcomings, rather than the resilience, the beauties, or the potential? I often take great strength from the thought that the most magnificent bonsai trees usually start out as rough, ragged little shrubs. The work maketh the tree.

Over the course of the long weekend we had together, we considered our roots in many different ways. We dug deep into asana, pranayama, and meditation, using detailed adjustments and visualisations to breathe new stability and life into our practice. Lucy taught us, Heaney-style, how the squat pen could be a gentle yet profound way of teasing out the old, unwanted wonts in each of us. With her characteristic sprightliness, she spirited the group away on a Nada Yoga journey, as we learnt to embrace sound and let tensions disintegrate through dance. Wendy helped entwine and thicken our collective root network, facilitating a drum circle for us so we could relate and cohere as a single rhythmic entity. Emily brought us back to the tap root with her scintillating group session on ‘The One’ (in yogic philosophy, the Seer, or Self, or drastuh in Sanskrit), shining a kind yet penetrating light upon this most critical of relationships: the one we have with ourselves.

As we unwound ourselves from the magic of Oxford and began our respective journeys home, I couldn’t help but turn a few key questions over in my mind. Where, or what, was I retreating from? Where, or what, was I in the habit of retreating to? What were the roots in my life that confined me, that secured me, that drained me, and that nourished me? I for one felt closer to an answer after this retreat weekend: there’s no place like home, and home is not a place out there, but where the heart is.

My deepest thanks and appreciation go to all the yogis who put their trust in me and helped generate such joy and magic in one of my favourite places on earth. To the Three Fates — Lucy, Wendy, and Emily — our brilliant teaching team, for your kindness, energy, wisdom, and support; I’m excited for what we might yet accomplish together! And finally, to my teachers, wherever you may be over earth or water: I would never have found my way without your love and care for me in my confusion.

ॐ भूर्भुवः स्वः

तत्सवितुर्वरेण्यं

भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि

धियो यो नः प्रचोदयात्