As part of my life shift (aka my healthy mid-life crisis), I decided to first focus on reducing my stress. It wasn't a hard decision since my doctor has been telling me to do this for the past year! She even suggested how to do it - take up Kundalini yoga. And after experiencing a meditation led by Gabrielle Bernstein at Emerging Women Live 2014, I was hooked!
I found a local yoga center that offers Kundalini yoga for beginners and quickly signed up for a class before I could lose my nerve. I know myself -- once I'm enrolled in an activity, I feel obligated to try it! Browsing the website, I noticed the suggestion to wear white clothing for energetic purposes. Huh? I favor black yoga pants and bright shirts. I don't own an all white outfit. I began to worry that I would not fit in! And what if I couldn't do the movements? Would people stare?
Yet, on Sunday night, I rolled out early for the yoga center. As I drove into the parking lot, I could not miss the entrance -- everyone was wearing white Indian garb, complete with turbans. I felt like I was playing the childhood game of "which one of these things isn't like the others?" and the answer was me in my black yoga pants, white top and hot pink shoes! My nervousness being in overdrive, I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and transformed into my alter ego -- brave Tanya who will try anything even if she might fail. I exited the vehicle and entered the yoga studio.
I was met by the instructor, a lanky elderly white gentleman with a long white beard. He looked like a wizard except with a turban, instead of a magician's hat. I introduced myself and signed up for the 30 days for $30 special for new students. Then, I picked out a bright purple yoga mat and entered the classroom with my newfound bravery, only to stop short seeing the dais with pillows for the instructor to sit on and pictures of a yogi surrounded by flowers. I began to wonder if my mother was correct when she told me at age 10 that she worried that I was her child who was most likely to join a cult.
As the other beginners trekked in, I was relieved to see that I was not the only one with a unique sense of style. My wizardly yoga instructor sat crosslegged on his pillows and encouraged us to do the same. My glutes rebelled, but I persevered. Mind over matter, right? As the wizard led us through breathing exercises and chants, I began to feel calmer, more centered, and relaxed. Given my paralyzed vocal cord, I saw that yoga could also help me with increasing my lung capacity.
We gently stretched our arms and legs in different poses, and then the wizard (his nickname in my mind) told us to push ourselves off the ground while sitting crosslegged, only using our hands for leverage. Needless to say, I tried but failed...my butt never achieved lift off!
At one point, we were laying on our backs, breathing deeply in and out, the wizard began to play gong music. My body totally relaxed, and my mind quieted. And then I felt an inexplicable pressure, like that of a hand, pushing down on my right hip. I knew it wasn't anyone in the room causing the sensation, but I also wasn't scared. I'd like to think that I was being given spiritual comfort while I was in a deepened state of awareness. When the gong stopped, the pressure disappeared.
I surpassed my expectations of my first Kundalini yoga class. I showed up and was seen and wasn't afraid to fail. I will be going back, not only because I want to get my money's worth, but because I felt a calmness that I have been lacking in my life recently. I can understand why Elizabeth Gilbert went on her epic journey to an ashram in India. Not that I would do that...or maybe I would. A life shift is occurring after all. But, would I have to wear all white?
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