Today, I went for my second Yoga class at the Sivananda Ashram in DLF.
My spine is on fire, but my mind is at peace.
It's amazing how this sort of a way of life could develop - the basic idea is to stretch whatever can be stretched, and compress what can't. That, apparently, is the way to inner peace. Even more bizzare is the fact that it works.
Take, for example, this one asan.
Lie on your back, with your arms palm downwards on the ground, parallel to your body. Feet touching, mind. Then lift your lower body upwards, supporting your back with your palms, so that your feet are pointing toward the ceiling. Basically, a shoulder stand. By now, you should be minor agony, every nerve complaining about the falling standards of verticality.
Now here's the tricky bit.
Extend your legs further backwards, so that your toes are touching the ground behind your head. Got it? Yes, I know, it hurts. Keep at it, the best is yet to come. Start inching your toes closer and closer to your head. This is where the fire begins (and where the people of a larger diameter spring back to rest position with odd popping sounds, and a look of surprised relief on their faces).
I don't quite know what this one's called, but it sure as hell looks funny. Kind of an odd way to pray to a higher spirit, with your arse on top of your head. Maybe the point is to see things from the bottom upward. Okay, okay, I'm sorry, that one was extremely lame. And contrived. I'm ashamed. Not too much, though, cause I managed that asan, and even held it for a bit before unintentionally somersaulting backwards. Some people are mean - there's no reason to laugh at the new chap if he messes up. Spiritual enlightenment, my arse. Or a roomful of arses, at any rate.
I wonder what tommorow will bring.
My spine is on fire, but my mind is at peace.
It's amazing how this sort of a way of life could develop - the basic idea is to stretch whatever can be stretched, and compress what can't. That, apparently, is the way to inner peace. Even more bizzare is the fact that it works.
Take, for example, this one asan.
Lie on your back, with your arms palm downwards on the ground, parallel to your body. Feet touching, mind. Then lift your lower body upwards, supporting your back with your palms, so that your feet are pointing toward the ceiling. Basically, a shoulder stand. By now, you should be minor agony, every nerve complaining about the falling standards of verticality.
Now here's the tricky bit.
Extend your legs further backwards, so that your toes are touching the ground behind your head. Got it? Yes, I know, it hurts. Keep at it, the best is yet to come. Start inching your toes closer and closer to your head. This is where the fire begins (and where the people of a larger diameter spring back to rest position with odd popping sounds, and a look of surprised relief on their faces).
I don't quite know what this one's called, but it sure as hell looks funny. Kind of an odd way to pray to a higher spirit, with your arse on top of your head. Maybe the point is to see things from the bottom upward. Okay, okay, I'm sorry, that one was extremely lame. And contrived. I'm ashamed. Not too much, though, cause I managed that asan, and even held it for a bit before unintentionally somersaulting backwards. Some people are mean - there's no reason to laugh at the new chap if he messes up. Spiritual enlightenment, my arse. Or a roomful of arses, at any rate.
I wonder what tommorow will bring.
2 comments:
noise and wind. old ladies gathering for yoga parties after a heavy lunch and a short nap. there are, needless to say, no mosquitos for many hours later. they've all dropped from the ceiling, poisoned.
Oye.
To tell the truth, I met people from shriram there. Kanika Dang, for one.
And another one from our batch. Cant remember her name, she lives in DLF.
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