Saturday, January 22, 2011

In the Aftermath...

Still playing the waiting game, and hoping this baby does not choose tonight to begin her entrance into the world. In my quest to find non-pharmaceutical ways to de-stress, I plan to attempt another yoga class this evening, though I'm still pretty damn sore from the last one on Thursday. I really feel like The Deity -- by whatever Name one chooses to call He, She, or It -- directed me to exactly the sort of class I most needed.

First off, music, upon which I depend so much these days, is incorporated in this class. The instructor plays a CD of chakra-related music while we do the poses and exercises. Then there is a time where she plays a gong, while students lie back on the floor and listen, and meditate. I used this time to do some Reiki on myself, which I've been trying to remember to do more often. Then came a time of seated meditation, one hand over the heart for awareness of its beating, and one hand raised in a prayerful gesture. I cannot achieve "easy" position -- which appears to be a variation of the lotus position -- but I expect with practice I will get it in time. For now, just sitting cross-legged on the floor is enough, and it hurts like crazy. My physical flexibility is not the greatest, and part of this process I'm going through is an attempt to improve it. So, eleven minutes of sitting in this posture with one hand raised was probably the hardest thing I had to do all night.

Eleven minutes is a LONG time! But just when I thought I couldn't hold the position any longer, a beautiful golden light filled my eyes, behind my closed lids, and I felt a Divine pressure coming down on my head, and surrounding me. It made me cry, and I didn't want to. I was supposed to be focusing my intent on what I wished to pray for. And then it occurred to me that perhaps I was supposed to re-focus my intent elsewhere. Where better than to ask for help in learning not to be ashamed or afraid of my own tears? To let them come without fighting, and let them pass. By the time the meditation ended a few minutes later, they had indeed come and gone, and I did not feel like a fool.

I stayed and spoke with the instructor for a bit afterwards, told her what has been going on in my life, and about the heart attack scare, and how much I need music to be a part of the things I'm doing to de-stress. She said she felt I had found the right place to come, then told me not to worry if emotions came to the surface. Just let them come, and let them be. Having emotions surface like that is proof that the meditation is working for me. She advised me to build slowly to the eleven minutes, and to try and take my meditation time at the same time every day. To build a habit and create a routine. So far, I have failed in that, but it is in my mind. Now, to implement it.

But I did feel better after the class, and though I did have a couple of crying jags at work yesterday, I simply went into the restroom and allowed them to come and go. Both times, co-workers came in and wanted to talk, and I was able to communicate easily enough, and not fight to hold the tears back. Let them go. Let them be.

I'm really looking forward to the session this evening, come what may emotion-wise. There will be a lot more focus on gong meditation, if I'm reading what the ashram's website says correctly. Some Kundalini yoga, but much gong music. The man who is leading this will have more than one gong, or so the instructor told me on Thursday. I expect it will be interesting, at least.

On Thursday I will go back for another class. I like the quiet focus, and the general atmosphere of holiness without excessive chatter. Sometimes going to regular church with my family is just too noisy, and fraught with distractions.

There is too much talking in this world in general. I find more words of wisdom in songs, and withdraw so those voices are the only ones I hear. They keep me sane, especially, though not solely, Grant's. His voice and words are a great comfort, even though this piece triggered a crying jag just before lunch yesterday.

I'm thinking so much about beginnings and endings and changes lately. Something old in me has died, and something else is rising to the surface. This being is not kinder or gentler at the moment. This being will do his/her best not to hold everything in. This being is determined not to allow a pressure cooker build-up again. This being is striving towards NOT wishing for death during sleep.

"It's not that kind of world. No one knows and no one guesses. There are no nos, there are no yeses..."

Hubby just stuck his head in the door announcing some errand he wishes to do, says he'll be back in plenty of time for me to go out, and says he hopes I don't mind that he isn't going with me. I laughed, and said I had no intention of bringing him in the first place, because he can't sit still and be quiet for five minutes, and I would not dream of bringing him to an ashram. Never mind that he would probably hate it as much as he hates my drumming in church. Repetitive percussion of any kind drives him crazy. Is it mean of me to be glad of that? Is it mean of me to feel I need my own spiritual exercises, separate from those I go through the motions of doing with him?

But after church I am always left feeling as if I got cheated out of the feast everyone else seems to be enjoying. Why do I not feel sustained, fulfilled, uplifted? There are good people in that church, who I like very much.

Perhaps it is the lack of stillness, or my lack of ability to create that still space within my environment, or maybe even a feeling that it would be sinful and/or selfish to create such a space in such an environment.

I don't have the answers, but I am seeking, and hoping it will lead to contentment, and a better tolerance for what works for others. But first I must find what works for myself.

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