Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Back to the Vinyasa

So Nila and I have reached an accord.  She's sitting on the couch a few feet away watching the Berenstein Bears while I rat-tat-tat on my exercise routine over here.

I've been wanting to stream-o' about something I've been experiencing as of late in my yoga.  I could start a few years ago when I went for my training and certification at Shoshoni.  In addition to practicing six hours of yoga a day, we also practiced 2 hours of meditation a day.  Towards the end of my certification, I began to experience this sort of internal 'wa-wa' feeling, as if there were an energetic line inside of me that moved in undulating waves, sometimes forward and backward, sometimes side to side.  I was told by my teachers to pay no attention to it and not be distracted from the meditation.  So several years later, yet several months past I was meditating and had that sensation but it felt much more intense as if my physical body was moving like a metronome and when I cracked open my eyes I was shocked to see that I was, quite physically, and quite extremely moving my upper body like a metronome.  I did a little research and talked to a few people but I really didn't get any answers that felt right, or resonated with me.  Course there was all kind of stuff online about Kundalini yoga, but I don't practice Kundalini yoga, nor do I subscribe to all of those beliefs.  It didn't happen on such an extreme level again so I let it go

Last week, I was doing my own yoga session and just following my instincts when I came out of a wheel pose, shaking and feeling both scared and on the verge of tears.  It wasn't that I'd done anything bad for my body, I didn't over do anything.  So I decided to just lie on my back and breathe into my belly until the sensations passed.  What happened next was even more surprising.  I had what is best described as a flashback.  It was the memory of my 13th birthday when my parents got divorced and I was on our front porch while my mother screamed at my father to leave, not allowing him or my sister to talk to me.  the image of my mother, father and sister was still blurry, but what I saw clearly were the pebbles in the front porch, the dirt in the garden.  I realized that that memory was of a pivotal time, and what I feel is that it is part of a healing process.

On the one hand I want to get to the healing as fast as possible, while internally, I know, that's not how it works.  Yoga can't be used that way.  All of the gifts I have received through yoga were not gifts that could have been sought, but ones that came as a side effect of practice. Since I have the belief that no religion or spirituality on the planet really has everything all figure out, that includes even my beloved yoga, though I actually tend to regard yoga as almost more science.  So I don't altogether understand what is happening or how and it's almost frustrating realizing that I may never have the answers, may not fully understand.  Yet I believe I'll have no problem accepting these mystery gifts, either.

that's it for today.  I don't think I can let Nila sit there watching t.v. anylonger.  The fingers have moved far more rapid than in a normal story construction and that's what needed to happen. This vinayasa is complete.

Verbal Vinyasa

I've found that every now and then I have to dance on this page, and dance without steps or much direction.   If I spend all of my writing time in the construction of a story or working on a project, then it's like building up only the big muscles while letting the smaller, yet vital support muscles atrophy.  I try to use a journal, too, but I've noticed that using only a pen and paper to do stream of consciousness sets me free on paper when I've got writer's block, but then I have to transcribe whatever I wrote onto the computer and that takes something more precious and rare than a good massage:  TIME.  These day's I can't afford extra steps on anything, so I'm bellying back up to the blog bar this afternoon while my sweet angel naps upstairs for quite possibly only another 10 minutes.  So something I've been wanting to stream of consciousness about...unbelievable, she just woke up. Maybe I can play bad parent and plop her in front of a movie.  Those of you without kids shriek, "Not the television as babysitter!"   Those of you with kids sigh, "I hear ya."