Posts In: yoga poetry

guest poem by Tiffany Brown

I realized sometime recently that I had lost this.
This ability to sit. Stand. Be. Still.
I am moving, texting, calling, playing.
Always.
I often put down the tech for the joy of real life activity but never for stillness.
Never to be bored.
Never to be unstimulated.
My free moments have been raided. Captured by the little blue f, the Clash of Clans, the internet.
My children will remember me in their childhood and it will often be the view of the top of my head as I look down at a lit screen.
I do not simply sit in the sun. Or on the porch. Or in the car.
I do not give myself time to ponder. To think.
I wonder now what we are losing when we lose this.
Because I am not alone. I am not unique.
We are all losing the art of stillness.
Of simply being.
And with this loss comes a new sense of stillness.
A new sense of connection.
And it is with our smart phone, our kindle, our tablet.
This is now our alone time.
Connected to millions.
I am not sure yet if it is better, or worse.
But I am very aware of it being different.

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

by Amy Caldwell

Meditation

What is the point of all this if not to be here now?
How can I remember sooner when lost?
Remember more often?

Portals into knowing slip away
separation, loneliness, depression, anxiety
sometimes accompany the loss

Running doing running doing

I want to remain in being
in peace
in oneness

I want to trust, completely
to learn how to dance gracefully with fear

To love with abandon
this moment
everything
right now
always

 

Head Yoga Teacher and Co-Founder of Yoga One, Amy Caldwell has dedicated herself to the practice, study and teaching of yoga since discovering its joys and benefits in 1997.

by Laura McCorry

Don’t do yoga. Step onto your mat with your bare feet. Breathe. Pick a yoga pose, any pose. But don’t do it; at least not the way in which you’re accustomed. Arrange your arms and legs and body to take up the outer form of the pose, then wait.

Breathe. Feel the yoga pose spread from your center and push out into the edges of your body, refining. Don’t move so much as expand by millimeters wherever it tells you to make space.

Start on the outside. Soften skin, then muscle. Then ligaments and tendons and bones. Let go everywhere except those isolated muscles needed to hold you steady.

Then go inside. Soften your thoughts, your feelings. Can you let go of your fears? Allow a thin mist to drape over your dreams and ambition.

Still don’t practice the yoga pose. Allow the yoga pose to practice you, to work on you and through you.

You’ll know when it’s finished. You’ll feel the weight of your body humming the same low tones as the rooted trees in the forest. You’ll become aware of your own absolute stillness. This is what comes after.

When Yoga becomes subject and you become the object acted upon, what comes after is the real fruit of your practice. After exertion, the deep peace of stillness. After the rough seas of life, the wide, clear expanse of your own soul.

 

Laura McCorry
Contributing Writer

Yoga and Laura had an on-again-off-again relationship from 2004 until 2009 when they decided to move in together and there’s been no looking back since. Passionate about both yoga and writing, Laura loves to introduce others to the joys and benefits of yoga and healthy living.

Contact: laura@yogaonesandiego.com

by Monique Minahan

I don’t teach you yoga.
You are yoga.

You are that sweet exhale,
that expansive inhale
that pause in between.

You are that unified breath,
that connected mind and body,
the observer and the observed.

What I teach you is how to remember
because we forget.

I forget.

So I invite you back to your breath
back to your body
back to you.

You accept my invitation
but it’s not me you are saying yes to.

It’s you.

You say yes to you.

Yes to your inhale,
Yes to your exhale,
Yes to your tight hamstrings,
Yes to your aching heart.

Yes to your wobbles,
Yes to your strength,
Yes to your past,
Yes to your Now.

Yes to your failures,
Yes to your triumphs,
Yes to your hopes,
Yes to your dreams.

Yes to your anger,
Yes to your peace,
Yes to your fear,
Yes to your courage.

Yes to you.

You say yes to you. I see that happen before my eyes and that is why I bow to you.

It is my privilege to witness your return every time

to your mat
to your heart
to you.

Namaste.

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. 

Read more from Monique on her blog, mindfulmo.com