I have discovered that when I am my most agitated, I am in the process of shedding a perception or way of being in the world that no longer serves me. My body and my mind rally against the impending change; they cling to what was in fear of what might be.
As I have gotten older, I have started to become okay with these changes. Yoga has given me the ability to witness these messages and evaluate the impending changes in a way that is positive and beneficial to me as a person. This week I could feel a change about to occur. I was EXTREMELY grumpy and dissatisfied with both life and all the moving parts of it. I was not enjoying the activities I usually love and I was snippy with those I cared about.
The beginning of my latest agitation started last week. I had recently traveled to a conference in another city and was fortunate enough to take an amazing yoga fundamentals class as Tejas Yoga in Chicago. One of my coworkers, who is also a yogi, took the class with me. The class did not have an amazing soundtrack nor did it take on excessively difficult poses. The instructor focused on excellent form and quiet guidance. Her intensity was wonderfully welcoming and amazingly overwhelming at the same time. I saw in her the authenticity of the moment and I was truly blown away. My co-worker felt similarly. We both left the studio crying and happy and my heart was light.
The next day I sat for a gratitude meditation. By the time my fingers found my second mala bead, I was bawling on my mat in my yoga room. I did not try to stop it. I sat there witnessing.
I was thankful that I have learned how to recognize these signs and communicate to others that I am not at my best and I may be withdrawn. Those that love me understand and support me. Those that don’t, I have learned that they aren’t worth the worry.
I received more clarity this week. In savasana this week, my mind calmed and my inner self opened enough to share some of the impending change. It began with a quandary. What does the heart want?
This led to a variety of thoughts including the overwhelming answer that I was ready to begin the planning for the journey to taking a yoga teacher training. The result is not for immediately teaching but instead for the purpose of dedicating myself to my practice. The excuses I found helpful before about time, dedication and strength no longer serve me. With 2.5 years to prepare, the time would be right. And, if I am serious about pursuing teaching in my retirement, that would give me several years to help hone my voice and solidify what that practice would look like.
And, with this wisdom, I was able to begin to set the seeds for developing my sankalpa for the coming year. I have practiced setting a sankalpa at this time every year and I am beyond amazed at how powerful and awe-inspiring the process is. It has tuned me into conversation with myself that I did not know was possible and for which I am eternally grateful.
In starting to find the intention behind my upcoming meditation, I wanted to extend the thought to societal perception. I wanted to know more beyond what my heart wants. I wanted to think more about the symbol of the heart within our culture and the heart chakra in yoga. As this has arisen so profoundly for me, I wanted to think more on the subject in general.
When we speak of “heart-opening” practices in yoga, what are we really trying to do? Some teachers speak of letting your truth out or letting your inner light shine. What rises in me when I think of this is the notion that our hearts are wrapped in a protective container. The container is important for keeping the heart safe. The scapula and shoulder girdle form a tight and solid layer behind the heart and the ribs give a filtered window in the front of the body.
The heart does not really have a front or back; it exists within a container that has a front and back. When we keep our emotions and secrets, do we keep them at the front of the container for all to see, or do we hide them in the back of container where solid bone keeps them from being challenged or appreciated?
What do we hide behind our hearts?
To let our light shine, it must come from the back of the heart. It must project forward through the filtered window of the ribs. The light cannot shine through the ribs and through the scapula; it will stop. And, the darker the secrets and fears behind our hearts, the harder it is for the light to move forward.
If we find our fears, our doubts and our inadequacies hiding in those recesses, can we move them forward? Can we allow them to move from behind the safety of our hearts?
For me, it may not come from camel pose and it may not come from a back bend. It may just come from realizing that those darker shadows need to be put in the front of my heart. The true luminosity of me is sacred and should be kept in the safest place behind my heart, filtering my light for the world to see.
My Journey to Sat 