Tuesday, April 1, 2014
My spirits have been high despite a busted up knee. I can see the blessing in the injury and I am not resistant to the message that is being shared with me. With that said, I have been missing my asana practice. I teach so much that I don't often get to practice on a consistent basis with a great teacher. I love self-practice, but I find such joy in being guided, coaxed and assisted.
Yesterday in class we were asked to stand up. Feet hip distance apart. Arms over with elbows slightly bent and the tips of the middle fingers touching. As we brought our arms overhead we chanted "SAT", and as our arms pulled down, elbows into the sides of the body, we let out "NAM". Sat Nam, Sat Nam, Sat Nam, Sat Nam....at the pace that you would do jumping jacks. I'm familiar with kundalini, so I knew that we would be doing this for some time....3minutes, 11, 22 or 31. Please God, let it be only 3minutes. When we started it wasn't so bad. You start to think, "Ah, this is easy." By 3minutes your arms start to ache, and by 7minutes you feel like you might die. Death by kundalini sat nam kriya. What a way to go! Lots of emotions come on, and a shit ton of thoughts....
"I want to give up. I'm exhausted. I cannot lift my arms up again. Maybe I'll just take a break. FUUUUUUCK!!!!! AHHHHH!!!! When is this over? It must have been an hour. I'm so irritated." So on and so forth. We would do two minutes with our eyes open, chanting Sat Nam out loud, feeling the support of the Kula (community) and connecting with the eyes of people in the group when we needed support. Then we would move into two minutes with the eyes closed, mentally chanting Sat nam, and moving with a strong bastrika breath in and out through the nose (forceful breath in, forceful breath out). I finally broke at around 8minutes. The floodgates opened and I sobbed as I moved through the kriya. I couldn't connect with the eyes of my Kula, and I didn't really want to. Because my Dad was with me. He was behind me cheering me on and inside of me inspiring my arms to lift despite their heaviness. And I was on fire. I could have kept going for the rest of the day. My arms didn't hurt because I couldn't *feel* my arms. My breath was stronger and more accentuated, my movement was more forceful and steady, my tears became heavier and from a deep place inside, and I moved further inward with every second that passed. I cried for the pain that my Dad experienced, I cried for the pain that I've experienced, I cried for the relationship lost, and I cried for the revelation of the relationships' evolution. I cried because he's not with me anymore, and I cried even harder because he's always with me, I am nothing but him, and everything is moving me closer to him. I cried because every time I heard Jo behind me chanting SAT NAM, when I was unable to get it above a whisper, I could feel her lifting me up and I knew that my Dad was moving through her. I was held by the love of my Kula and it was safe to let go of any walls and be fully vulnerable, broken, scared and completely on fire. One of the greatest lessons that I took away from my Dads passing is that if I can survive that, I can survive anything. And this is what I love about kundalini. Because I experience a small death every time I practice. A death of the thought "I can't", or "I'm not enough"....and the further rebirth of I AM and I CAN shines brighter. As the transformation happened I moved into my mantra of "I AM POWERFUL AND AMAZING" and I was. I continued, fueled by my Dad, Josephine and the Kula. The whole kriya was TWENTY TWO MINUTES LONG. The rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. I was in and out of sadness, bliss and exhaustion. But mostly I was resting in a blanket of revelation and peace. We have learned a lot about the Hindu dieties in this training. When Saraswati or Lakshmi are on my altar I'm not worshipping them, but I'm invoking their essence that is a part of ME. Does that make sense? And that's what I realized I can do with my Dad. Just like Saraswati exists within, my Dad is a part of me-- and I can call upon him whenever I want.
Kundalini Kriyas should be mandatory for the masses. I'm serious. I suggest you put on your powerful, big-girl panties and get your ass to a Kundalini class ASAP. Not now, RIGHT now. You're welcome.