How Smoke Deepened My Yoga Practice
/When I wandered into my first yoga class, I didn't know what to expect, I just needed a new way to exercise. For most of my life, I had worked out daily, but my experience of it had grown mechanical and flat. It was a sun-parched river bed; sterile and unproductive, barbed wire gone to rust. Because I needed to exercise for health reasons, I was desperate. So desperate - I shoved shyness, my fear of looking like an idiot, and a dislike for crowded places into a corner, and signed up for a 6 week series of classes. There were bigger fish to fry.
Fortunately, my first teacher was Claudia Cummins. She made practicing feel like poetry. I enjoyed the sign language of the postures in my body. It stirred awake an iridescent light in me. I was hooked. When our younger sons joined our older sons in playing various sports, my class appearances dwindled. Four boys with various interests added up to zero 'me' time. So, I cleared a space in our basement and moved my practice down there. I have been doing it there for more than 10 years.
My experience of yoga is a bit out of the ordinary, but I'll share anyway. Seeing things through different eyes can glitter your perspective once in awhile, you never know. Please know - I am no expert, I am merely a student, sharing my love for this practice. I have much to learn, far to go.
Here's a little background. My
experience of Life is ruled by sensory input: Merging, harmony and the "feel of things" override
separateness and logic. In the daily grind of thinking and logic, I get lost, make
mistakes, misinterpret, and forget my words. Australian artist Donna Williams believes humanity
breaks down into two ways of living: Sensing and Interpreting. I agree. Considering that, it is no surprise that I meandered
into a yoga class and felt like I'd come home. Yoga requires tuning in to the body and falling
into the details. A plunging, velvety kind of noticing - like sunlight rolling across a meadow, embracing every wildflower, every blade of grass, every grasshopper and ladybug. Thinking mind gets relocated to the back seat. "I'm certainly a noticer,"
I thought, "and logic just confuses me." I felt a tremble of possibility, it seemed something tailor-made was sidling up next to me.
Life for me, each and every moment, is a kaleidoscope of color, sound, smell, taste, texture - and more! My brain's filtering system seems set to maximum intake, plus my senses get crossed and stumble into each other. What does that mean? Everything downloads at once - so I must continually sift through it to find the real target of my attention. My senses sing in tandem, like a round of "Row Your Boat" - one 'voice' overlapping another - as they describe the experience unfolding before me. Sounds, smells, colors and even emotions can have taste, texture, shape and personality - and vice versa. Sound confusing? It's called synesthesia.
What would it be like if you lived in a synesthetic world? Well, your sweetheart’s kiss might taste like peaches drizzled in apricot-colored circles. Your child’s laughter might smell like tangerines and look like spirals and stars tumbling through the air. Rain might provoke the taste of chocolate and the haunting tinkle of far-away chimes. You might be convinced the letter A is dark red, and that Thursdays are orange and feel warm. Every object you see might have its own story, speak its own language.
This is how it is for me.
When I discovered yoga, it fired my senses in mysterious and unexpected ways. Instead of creating a clamor of exclamation points and heart-quaking jolts of energy like aerobic workouts and weight-lifting - yoga was warm butter, melting...shimmery and calming. It felt whole, not scrambled. For years, that alone, compelled me to get on my mat every morning.
My synesthetic response to yoga lured me in closer. Depending on the pose, I hear strings playing - bass violin, cello, viola, and violin. I smell vanilla and buttered rum. I taste Crème brulee with warm buttered figs and dates. I even see soothing colors, the colors of sunset at sea after a storm has passed. Practicing, I feel energy moving through me: Opposing forces, drawing in and radiating out at the same time. I visualize it as light. My head reaches taller as my feet root down. My waist stretches taut like a sail fastened at boom, reaching skyward to mast. I sense the necessity of this opposition. I feel how it holds me in the pose, keeps me from falling into a puddle on the ground. It 'establishes' me, gives me foundation. But at the same time, it gives me lightness, lifts me up out of myself. Wings. After practice, my body feels as if it's just eaten a wintergreen lifesaver: I am a cavern of cleansed space - host to a brisk and curling wind. Ahhhh....
For years, I listened to this music in my body, wishing I understood the words to the song. Finally, one night, it started to come together. Sitting by our fire pit, watching stars blink on and fireflies flicker, I became hypnotized by the fire: The liquid dance of flame, the curling wisps of smoke. I disappeared into it. My husband finally asked what I was pondering so deeply. "Somehow the fire and the smoke speak to me about yoga," I answered. "But I just don't understand the connection." We sat quietly, our thoughts softly glowing, until the fire drifted into a hushed crackling smolder.
The next day, Brad quietly set up his camera gear in a spare bedroom, determined to surprise me with still shots of smoke. A few hours later, he showed me the images and I was stunned! I was instantly absorbed, entranced, hypnotized. "That’s it! THAT’S what it feels like to do yoga!," I shouted. "That's the language of yoga!” I was so happy, I had tears in my eyes. Just studying the (improbable!) folding and unfolding turns of the smoke, I realized I needed to throw down my old concepts of what is possible. I saw echos of feelings I'd had in certain poses, and places where I'd misunderstood posture instructions altogether. I glimpsed the ever-hammering importance of breath, and the paradox of doing while not doing. I discovered that teeter-tottering in a pose isn't failing - it is participation! It's where the real work and transformation happens!
What a gift! For two years, I studied them over and over. Every once in awhile, Brad added another batch. My practice intensified, and I let go of other regimented forms of exercise altogether. How organic to simply listen to my body: To move in the direction it requested, answering the call again and again until it felt right to float into Savasana. I was a wisp of smoke, light and free, drifting on the night breeze.
Last fall, I started aching for more. More knowledge, more experience. Our youngest son was away at college, so I began to ponder ways to deepen my practice. After a few months, I took a crazy leap and signed up for yoga teacher training at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. It was an experience I'll never forget.
For me, yoga is a sanctuary that invites me in from cold and chaos. It separates that which is soul from that which is not. It reminds me who I am by showing me who I am not. I don't need a mask anymore. For an introvert like me, that's a big revelation! It means I can relax, let go of my desire to be like everyone else. I don't have to pretend I'm out-going or fearless, I can just be me. That is enough. Yoga teaches me that slowing down is living fully. There is no rush. Some people say, "Yoga is a journey, a path." For me, it is a "coming home".
For years, I've worked to hide my overzealous senses, to water down the haze of fizzy, and bewildering statements and descriptions that fly out of my mouth sometimes. I wanted to sound like everyone around me. Yoga teaches me there is no reason to hide. It highlights delicate beauty in the peachy tones and honey taste of vulnerability and surrender. What good does anxiety do me? Brahmani, one of my teachers at Kripalu, told me, "Fear is just a confused thought. Relax. Don't ramp it up into a commotion. What would it be like to just let things unfold, without attaching fear to it? Turn the negative energy into a force that works for you, not against you." That was a step toward freedom, realizing I always have a choice. If I believe a thought that Life is uncomfortable, it will be. If I don't, my options are endless.
Wrapped in gossamer tendrils, I rise from my mat - inhaling, exhaling, folding and unfolding. Speaking the language of smoke - the language of yoga - I wonder "Where will the wind take me today?"