Monday 22nd February 2004
Sunday morning
It’s not often I can get to a Sunday morning self practice at the shala. Saturday night and Sunday morning seem to be the only guaranteed time I get to spend with my boyfriend, so our one morning waking up together is precious. This week he was away so I met up with Kosta at the shala at 6.30am and we did our own practice along with about 5 others who came in at various times.
It’s nice to be there, doing yoga so early on a Sunday morning when the rest of the city is taking it easy, slowly waking up. What we choose to be doing on a Sunday morning with our diminishing leisure time reveals what is important to us; whether it’s sleeping in, having breakfast in bed, going to church, a bike ride, taking kids to the beach, recovering from a late night out, or an early morning walk with the dog. There’s something nice about the whole Sunday morning vibe, sort of relaxed, reflective and revitalizing.
Self practice at the shala on a Sunday has a different flavour to mid week Mysore practice. It’s more enjoyable, lighter; you stop if you need to, laugh if you want to, smile as you practice instead of taking it so seriously.
Sunday afternoon
I went bushwalking.
Sunday night
I was exhausted.
Monday morning
Not surprisingly when the alarm went off just after 5am this morning, my body was not feeling up to a Mysore practice. I bailed out and slept in until 8.30am.
The morning unfolded into a deeply spiritual experience. I put a Lisa Gerrard song onto repeat on the CD player, an ambrosial, hymn like song that fills the air with a holy reverence. My house became a church.
I placed my mat on the floor of the kitchen, a soft light filtering in the big glass doors. Holy music filled the space and I did my practice with great love and attention. The breath was soft and audible, each movement an expression of love for the life I’ve been given and all that is magnificent. I felt almost overwhelmed at the magnitude of feeling that imbued this practice. Reached Navasana and moved to the finishing sequence, not wishing to prolong and exhaust the experience. Immense resources emerge when our ordinariness begins to dissolve. Mediochrity falls away and our capacity to merge with and conduct the energy of creation is revealed. All of this was fueling each moment of my practice this morning.
I stayed in Sirsasana (Headstand) for 15 minutes, using each breath to reinforce my attention on directing the pranic force through the sushumna. It wavered a few times but the higher focus that pervaded this practice seemed to protect my mind from its usual distractions and I was able to stay fully engrossed in the rich experience of breathing in time with the life force.
Then I sat, silent, exalted, serene, bathing in the afterglow of communion.
That was my practice this morning.
I wonder if I’ll ever practice like that again, where the body and its limitations are forgotten. The poses, the movement, the breath, the mind and the heart, all uniting as one, expressing fully the paradoxical beauty of being fully human and fully divine. A practice suspended between heaven and earth.
Blogging
Blogging’s good…it’s becoming part of my practice now. It’s cathartic. It’s also a form of svadhyaya (study of the self through contemplation), one of the niyamas.
In “Light on Yoga”, Mr Iyengar says:
“The person practicing svadhyaya reads his own book of life, at the same time that he writes and revises it. There is a change in his outlook on life. He starts to realize that all creation is meant for bhakti (adoration) rather than for bhoga (enjoyment), that all creation is divine, that there is divinity within himself and that the energy which moves him is the same that moves the entire universe.”
On the yogic path there is the danger of becoming too self referencing. Every experience can become another excuse to analyse, play with and indulge the ego. You think about yourself, talk about yourself. The ego thrives on the attention to me, me, me. I think it’s called spiritual masturbation.
A higher motivation and awareness keeps self study pure. We study ourselves to become more aware of our actions and reactions, more sensitive to what is holding us back from moving forward on the path to perfection. We can see what weighs us down, where we get stuck, where we resist, where we shine, how we can contribute to this world. And through svadhyaya, as we come to see our conditioned responses, we can work to release those blockages one by one, and slowly pull back the veil that obscures the light within us. It takes vigour, vigilance and ruthless self honesty. Come to think of it, it takes all the other niyamas: purity/commitment, equanimity, enthusiasm/passion/discipline and a selfless devotion to divine union.
All of this while raising kids, minding puppies, nurturing relationships, cooking dinners, working, shopping, cleaning, teaching, budgeting, dreaming and occasionally screaming.
“Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water
After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.”
-Wu Li
___________________________________________________________________
Sunday morning
It’s not often I can get to a Sunday morning self practice at the shala. Saturday night and Sunday morning seem to be the only guaranteed time I get to spend with my boyfriend, so our one morning waking up together is precious. This week he was away so I met up with Kosta at the shala at 6.30am and we did our own practice along with about 5 others who came in at various times.
It’s nice to be there, doing yoga so early on a Sunday morning when the rest of the city is taking it easy, slowly waking up. What we choose to be doing on a Sunday morning with our diminishing leisure time reveals what is important to us; whether it’s sleeping in, having breakfast in bed, going to church, a bike ride, taking kids to the beach, recovering from a late night out, or an early morning walk with the dog. There’s something nice about the whole Sunday morning vibe, sort of relaxed, reflective and revitalizing.
Self practice at the shala on a Sunday has a different flavour to mid week Mysore practice. It’s more enjoyable, lighter; you stop if you need to, laugh if you want to, smile as you practice instead of taking it so seriously.
Sunday afternoon
I went bushwalking.
Sunday night
I was exhausted.
Monday morning
Not surprisingly when the alarm went off just after 5am this morning, my body was not feeling up to a Mysore practice. I bailed out and slept in until 8.30am.
The morning unfolded into a deeply spiritual experience. I put a Lisa Gerrard song onto repeat on the CD player, an ambrosial, hymn like song that fills the air with a holy reverence. My house became a church.
I placed my mat on the floor of the kitchen, a soft light filtering in the big glass doors. Holy music filled the space and I did my practice with great love and attention. The breath was soft and audible, each movement an expression of love for the life I’ve been given and all that is magnificent. I felt almost overwhelmed at the magnitude of feeling that imbued this practice. Reached Navasana and moved to the finishing sequence, not wishing to prolong and exhaust the experience. Immense resources emerge when our ordinariness begins to dissolve. Mediochrity falls away and our capacity to merge with and conduct the energy of creation is revealed. All of this was fueling each moment of my practice this morning.
I stayed in Sirsasana (Headstand) for 15 minutes, using each breath to reinforce my attention on directing the pranic force through the sushumna. It wavered a few times but the higher focus that pervaded this practice seemed to protect my mind from its usual distractions and I was able to stay fully engrossed in the rich experience of breathing in time with the life force.
Then I sat, silent, exalted, serene, bathing in the afterglow of communion.
That was my practice this morning.
I wonder if I’ll ever practice like that again, where the body and its limitations are forgotten. The poses, the movement, the breath, the mind and the heart, all uniting as one, expressing fully the paradoxical beauty of being fully human and fully divine. A practice suspended between heaven and earth.
Blogging
Blogging’s good…it’s becoming part of my practice now. It’s cathartic. It’s also a form of svadhyaya (study of the self through contemplation), one of the niyamas.
In “Light on Yoga”, Mr Iyengar says:
“The person practicing svadhyaya reads his own book of life, at the same time that he writes and revises it. There is a change in his outlook on life. He starts to realize that all creation is meant for bhakti (adoration) rather than for bhoga (enjoyment), that all creation is divine, that there is divinity within himself and that the energy which moves him is the same that moves the entire universe.”
On the yogic path there is the danger of becoming too self referencing. Every experience can become another excuse to analyse, play with and indulge the ego. You think about yourself, talk about yourself. The ego thrives on the attention to me, me, me. I think it’s called spiritual masturbation.
A higher motivation and awareness keeps self study pure. We study ourselves to become more aware of our actions and reactions, more sensitive to what is holding us back from moving forward on the path to perfection. We can see what weighs us down, where we get stuck, where we resist, where we shine, how we can contribute to this world. And through svadhyaya, as we come to see our conditioned responses, we can work to release those blockages one by one, and slowly pull back the veil that obscures the light within us. It takes vigour, vigilance and ruthless self honesty. Come to think of it, it takes all the other niyamas: purity/commitment, equanimity, enthusiasm/passion/discipline and a selfless devotion to divine union.
All of this while raising kids, minding puppies, nurturing relationships, cooking dinners, working, shopping, cleaning, teaching, budgeting, dreaming and occasionally screaming.
“Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water
After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.”
-Wu Li
___________________________________________________________________
