Posts In: chakra

by Monique Minahan

The birds are chirping even though it’s still dark. This kind of silence – the kind that isn’t devoid of noise but rather full of presence – is the backdrop for my practice today.

Physically located at the level of the throat, vishuddi chakra represents a gateway between body and mind, through which the energy of this chakra can be suppressed or expressed. As an energetic center for communication, creativity, and expression, this chakra is not just about speaking. It’s also about feeling heard.

Instead of beginning with the beeja mantra ham, I explore the concept of toning, where body and breath invite a sound vibration to form, whatever that sound may be. The tones I create symbolize speaking my truth, as opposed to regurgitating truths I’ve been taught by others.

I begin on my exhale breath with a guttural groan. As I refrain from judging or perfecting it, I watch it transition through numerous auditory forms, eventually settling on a cathedral-like ahhhhh.

From the seat of an observer I acknowledge the things I have heard in my lifetime: from my inner dialogue, my conversations with others and what I’ve been taught to be true by people in authority.

And I sense the times I’ve refrained from speaking my truth over the years, whether out of fear of being punished, disapproved of or not understood.

With the intention of freeing my voice both physically and energetically, I begin ujjayi pranayam. I place a finger at the front of my throat, the glottis, and visualize the breath entering there, at the front-body location of vishuddi chakra, known as the chakra kshetram. I place another finger on my cervical spine at the back of my neck, visualizing the breath exiting through the spine, the back-body location of vishuddi chakra. Then I reverse the cycle so it begins at the back of the neck and travels forward. This practice focuses my awareness, breath and entire being on the physical and energetic center of vishuddi.

Vishuddi is often translated as “purification,” but I think of it more as refinement. As a pause between body and mind where I begin to distinguish the chatter of my unconscious mind from a higher level of knowledge. An energetic space where I can observe the way things have been and choose to create a new song for my life.

I sit a little longer listening to the sound of my breath. Before opening my eyes I speak out loud my vision of how my voice contributes to the chorus of life. I hear that truth with my ears and I seal it by bowing my head to my heart.

Part 6 of a 7 part series. You can find part 5 here: Anahata, The Heart.

Monique Minahan
Contributing Writer

Mo is a writer and yoga teacher who believes in peace over happiness and love over fear. She likes to set her sights high and then take small steps to get there. You’ll find her walking the dirt path behind her house with her little fluffy dog, practicing walking her talk by keeping her head high and her heart open. Contact: moniqueminahan.com

by Monique Minahan

I place my left hand on my heart and on top of that layer my right.

I don’t move until I feel that familiar thump-thump beating under my hands, as subtle or as strong as it may be. I don’t move until I connect with the aliveness within me.

Anahata, the heart chakra, reminds me of my need for love and my true capacity to love. It asks me to stretch my heart open not just for my friends or family but for every human being on this planet – a major paradigm shift from the more prominent fear-thy-neighbor mentality that threatens to tear our world apart.

This is why I must connect with myself first. I cannot find compassion for anyone else until I find compassion for myself. I cannot welcome another’s pain until I have welcomed my own.

Onto the physical connection of hands to heart, I layer sound. A soft reverberation of anahata’s seed sound yam starts at the middle point of my sternum, this chakra’s kshetram, or front-body location. It travels through my body, piercing the spine, emerging on my back at the actual chakra point, a deep blue flowering like a tattoo over my upper back.

I repeat that cycle until it feels complete, letting the sound shape-shift, becoming a groan or a song or a wail until it naturally tapers into the quietest, softest syllable, matching the beat of my heart.

Alone with my heart I ask her what she has to say. Then I step back to allow her to answer:

Love bigger, she says. You know you can.

She is right but I stay silent. I listen as she questions why I don’t. I give her all my reasons and tell her that the world makes it hard to love sometimes. She reminds me that when I block love from exiting, I also block love from entering. Like breathing out and breathing in.

I begin bhramari pranayama, the humming bee breath. The gentle buzzing sound allows me to listen to my heart without my head thinking of a reply, a response, a defense.

This practice draws me out into the deep waters of vulnerability, the only state of being where I can receive and offer love fully.

As my humming drifts into silence I become aware of akasha, the heart space, and how it shrinks and expands proportionate to my level of fear or love.

I choose love. Not the small love I only offer to those who love me back. The Big Love that does not require reciprocity. The love that is enlarged by our differences instead of threatened by them. The love which the world needs so desperately.

Part 5 of a 7 part series. You can find part 4 here: Manipura, The Navel.

Monique Minahan
Contributing Writer

Mo is a writer and yoga teacher who believes in peace over happiness and love over fear. She likes to set her sights high and then take small steps to get there. You’ll find her walking the dirt path behind her house with her little fluffy dog, practicing walking her talk by keeping her head high and her heart open. Contact: moniqueminahan.com

by Monique Minahan

I invite my body into some gentle asana next to a dwindling fire. Only after movement do I find the stillness necessary to enter the city of jewels, manipura chakra; mani meaning jewel and pura meaning city. Now focused, I contemplate the literal flames before me then look to my internal place of fire, manipura chakra.

While its frontal location is at the navel, the chakra itself is said to reside at the level of the spine. I guide my attention horizontally there, to the inner wall of the spinal column and whisper the beeja mantra ram until it settles in my bones like the hum of my breath.

I let my inner vision focus around the space of my solar plexus, literally a complex of nerves in the abdomen that delivers the intuitive “gut feeling” or sinking sensation in the pit of our stomach. The fact that there are no bones in front of the solar plexus seems fitting as this chakra embodies willpower and action; an ability to hold one’s self up. It is the center of heat and strength physically and energetically. The Japanese refer to this area of the body as the hara, or “sea of energy.”

Discerning what’s at the heart of this chakra for me requires patience. Below this chakra is the energy that creates me as an individual. Swadhisthana chakra: my ego, self-esteem, my individuality. Above manipura lies anahata chakra, the energy to channel my unique offering to the world. But here is where those two energies meet. Here is where I find empowerment, authenticity and responsibility. Here is where I transition my individuality to universality. Here is where I struggle with holding on and letting go.

I choose the unifying pranayama of breath retention for this chakra; one that balances both prana-vayu (upward and inward energy) and apana-vayu (downward and outward energy).

I visualize the two forces traveling to the navel simultaneously on the inhale. Only when I feel that they have arrived at the same time do I then perform a gentle breath retention before the exhale. I repeat this for a few minutes before letting my breath return to normal.

When I open my eyes, the fire has dwindled to hot embers. I acknowledge the times in my life when I’ve barely had an ember of light to guide me through the darkness. And I acknowledge the times when a full flame has burned through limitations and freed me to be more authentic, empowered and alive.

I bow my head to that.

Part 4 of a 7 part series. You can find part 3 here: Swadhisthana, The Sacrum.

Monique Minahan
Contributing Writer

Mo is a writer and yoga teacher who believes in peace over happiness and love over fear. She likes to set her sights high and then take small steps to get there. You’ll find her walking the dirt path behind her house with her little fluffy dog, practicing walking her talk by keeping her head high and her heart open. Contact: moniqueminahan.com