Hers: With My Feet in the Air and My Head on the Ground

Just a few days ago I took my first Kundalini Yoga class. Wow. What an experience. Very different from what I know yoga to be. I had little idea of what to expect, just the usual and general understanding that a yogi might have of other traditions - which can be no understanding at all. My expectation included a lot of intense breath work and arm flapping, but other than that...I didn't know what was coming.

One of my ongoing moment to moment goals is to experience life as it happens, with no expectations and preconceived ideas of how things should be. I sometimes talk about this in class - can we (can I) take a pose like it's the first time ever taking that pose. Can I feel it new with each new approach? Can I maintain what the Zen masters refer to as "beginners mind?" For me, this allows an open curiosity to life, a beautiful naivete that keeps the cynical and judgemental side of myself quieter. It's not always easy, especially when I know about something, as in: I know about yoga, I've been teaching it for many years. This is how it should be done...Luckily, I have a fairly loud voice somewhere within that REGULARLY lets me know that I don't know much at all. So with this new Kundalini experience, I was able to just let myself go, listen to what the teacher told me to do, and be with whatever happened.

This captures how I felt in class...on a path,
a magical path, upward, elevation 9,900 ft
and climbing, explosive,
right out the top of my head...

At first I felt weird, like - what the heck's going on - everyone's probably watching me and I look like a total dork, I have no idea what I'm doing. (Welcome back to being a new student Jennifer; this is how each new student taking their first class feels!) But soon, I forgot about everyone around me. I started to feel my breath and then my body and its movement, at first controlled and a bit stiff, slowly becoming more fluid. I felt the movement of breath moving body moving energy, all synchronized;  the strong and forceful beat of my arms generating heat and more energy. Eyes closed - keep the eyes closed she said. Lift your inner gaze, upward, upward with the gaze. Repeating the mantra SAT NAM, SAT NAM, SAT NAM. Each breath faster, then slower, hold, release...on  it went, arms up, arms down, crossing arms overhead, tiger claw hands, lifting hips, lowering hips, folding over leg, lifting, lowering, breathing, holding, SAT NAM, SAT NAM........and away I went. Up, up, and away. Rising, rising...I was air rising, helium; spacey and ethereal, I was on my way to the heavens and the elusive higher realms of existence.

I can definitely see how one can get swept away with the practice. It was something else.

Like I said, it was very different, yet... at the same time, somewhere within all that breathing and movement, it was very much the same. Chanting, breath work, posture work, more breath work, more chanting… all in a day’s yoga class. It’s all the same, just mixed together in a different way with a little more focus on some things rather than others. It's like sitting down with a map in front of you deciding which road to take to where ever you are going...Kundalini Yoga is just one road of many.

It was a fun road that night, but for me, that upward movement physically and energetically - I have lots of that naturally. I can easily pass a day dreaming, lost in thought, lost is space. In fact, it wouldn't be unusual for me to stop and spin and flap my arms around just because. Not that we were spinning in class, but sometimes it felt like we were. I know my understanding of the practice is still very limited and I could have it all wrong; but I also know I need ground. I need earth. I need to root down into some solid standing postures and hold them for awhile. But I’m glad it’s there – Kundalini Yoga and its approach – for those times I just want to be up in my head, in the clouds, in the heavens…

 

Hers: Beyond 54 Days

One of the many wonderful uses
for my very smart phone.

The last days of my metta practice included glimpses of desire; the desire to finish this project, the desire to stop repeating the same phrases over and over, the desire to return to my breath, the desire to just breathe...

Well, here I am, just breathing. I woke a few days ago with an excitement. Last days always bring first days. And I was excited about my first day of returning to simple breath awareness. A sitting practice focused only on the breath, nothing else. Without my beads, I use a timer. I sit for 15 minutes, 5 less than my metta practice consisted of. Why? I don’t know. I just do. Another habit maybe?

Watching my breath...it was nice...this subtle movement, in and out, sort of...

 

In my asana (yoga posture) practice I often use a soft and steady yogic breath called ujjayi. It has a way of settling and focusing my mind as I move. It also allows me to gage where I am in my practice; as my breath changes, it also teaches. Strained breathing might mean I’m pushing too hard. But this breath is light and gentle, not forced in its control. As my teacher writes, “Do not overly control the breath. Breathe through your nose with a light ujjayi pranayama breath. Not every breath is the same; allow the breath to be organic. By overly controlling the breath we become fixated on control and mastery of the body.” So I breathe soft, easy ujjayi breaths, until I don’t and then I do and then I don’t and on it goes.



About 2.5 minutes left...

And on it went in my sitting practice. Without even realizing it, I begin to develop this subtle breath control. Until it’s not so subtle and I notice my groins are tight and my legs rigid, as though I'm trying to hold my body just slightly above the ground. And the soft whisper-like sound of my breath, audible only to me is now like a roiling ocean heard a mile away. What’s happening here?

...We become fixated on control.

 

My days with the metta practice gave me something to do. Something constant, maybe a way to control my sitting practice. Over and over. May I be filled with loving-kindness. May I be well. May I be peaceful and at ease. May I be happy. There was a focus; yes, thoughts came and went, but there was clearly things to focus on, images, words. Now, just the breath.

 

If you sit and watch your breath for any length of time without controlling it in any way, you might notice that there are spaces between the breaths, little pauses before the next breath begins. I’ve noticed in these pauses that I often feel a sense of timelessness, a space being created that has the potential to hold all things, all possibilities. It’s a silence that is more than silence. It’s a space that allows for hearing, listening. That space then grows and extends into the movement of the breath. It’s here that “things arise," (said in a deep and authoritative voice). Habits and tendencies, deep and not so deep understandings, answers to questions I may be mulling over, a growing self-knowledge, an ability to see things with a bit more objectivity...

Yet, it seems I'm a little lost without my metta phrases, I'm having a hard time finding this silence. Instead, I'm forcing things, exerting my control over something that will only flourish if I let go of control. I see it in my breath, I feel it in my body. I'm reminded of a trip I took by myself many years ago. I drove from Rochester, NY to the west coast by myself. I took 6 weeks and stopped to visit a number of friends along the way. Before I left, I was so excited to set out on my own with no one to comprise with, no one else to focus on. Still each time I moved on from a stop I found myself feeling so alone, scared, and a bit sad. I had no one but myself. I feel that now without my metta phrases, alone, scared, and a bit sad. But as I learned on that trip, feelings pass and the silence of being alone becomes comforting and calming, a place of refuge, a place where I can listen to whatever arises....it just takes a little bit.