about face

So, more notes on yoga and the meanderings my mind take while in relaxation/deep poses.

Chest openers are some of the harder poses for me, as well as any balance involving my left leg. My left foot is flat, so my right leg has over-compensated my entire life. I can hold advanced poses on the right, but can barely attempt them on the left. Even tree gives me problems.

I’m trying to focus on creating that balance. Anyway.

I started writing this to focus on different images that came to me. As you can tell, my mind wanders during yoga, and this shows in the things I see.

However, lately, I keep seeing the same image over and over, especially during savasana (“corpse pose”) and strong heart-openers…

My eyes are closed, but I can “see” myself and my fellow classmates. Our chests extend towards the sky, our hearts reaching upwards. The heart chakra color is typically illustrated as green. I knew this already, so I’m sure it colors my imaginings. All I see is this green energy swirling upwards out of everyone’s chests and intermingling in the room, filling it with this calming but energetic green mist.

The energy is reaching out and up, coagulating into something bigger than our single energy streams.

I also imagined, once, that a beanstalk erupted from my chest and Mario ran up it into the clouds.

I’ve only taken 1 yin yoga class so far (@ East Side Yoga on E. 11th with Iva), but so far, it’s the only thing I’ve ever done that has allowed me to actually meditate.

I never understood people when they talked about seeing images or reducing the mind to nothing. Letting go of the ego is something I’m clearly not good at. However, “relaxing” into those extended, hip-opening poses, my “self” dissipated and I started to receive images.

I first encountered the little red fox in the expansive, unending green valley I had briefly met before, in Melissa’s hatha class the day prior. All sensations were in fast-forward, unfortunately. Where he bounded, butterflies erupted from the tall grasses. He would look back at me and smile in a feline-way, making sure I followed.

We ended up at a clear, isolated stream.

Suddenly I was transported, and sunlight filtered through palm fronds, dappling my face. The sky so blue, so bright, so real. Suddenly I’m submerged, and I’m a dolphin, dolphin-speaking to my friend. Then I’m me, but with much longer hair, and it languidly swirls around my saltwater face, bubbles escaping my nostrils and decorating my vision.

Then I’m on shore, running and diving into the waves, my legs solidifying magically into a tail. I meet my same dolphin friend, a grin on his face. He leads me on wild escapades where I connect on an intimate level with my fellow merfolk.

The images recede and I’m back on my mat, fighting (and losing) the urge to adjust my body to relieve it of its pain.

Yin. Passive. Submissive. Meditative.

I’m celebrating by burning my pink candle.

I guess I’ll celebrate the winter solstice with my black one.

More like jumping in. Trying to reconnect with my left brain. Actually, my left brain is always on - this is an effort to merge my two diverging hemispheres.

I’ll write, AND I’ll dance!

I used to write a lot, in fact. I’m not sure where it stopped. I guess with the overabundance of information we’re all bombarded with on a daily basis, I only really wanted to join the swim if I had something meaningful to say.

I don’t need to be heard so much as I’d rather be seen. I’d rather feel. I can easily inhabit this world of words and discourse, but sometimes I’d rather breathe in and absorb the physicality of the world around me.

Don’t get me wrong - the world of the mind is an enticing place, and this metaconsciousness we’re all actively creating would entice Jung to no end. He’d say this is all proof of his ideas. Maybe I’m inclined to believe my own theory, but I occasionally delight in playing the advocate.