My alarm is set for 5:36 a.m. but I have only heard it go off once since my arrival. I wake up a few times throughout the night, each time expecting that when I look at the alarm it will be time to start the day- “nope, back to bed. It’s only midnight.” On Day 3 we were introduced to our first kriyas (cleansing). These techniques have been passed down from the pranayama lineage of Sri O P Tiwari, as a representative of the Kaivalyadhama Institute and his Guru Swami Kaivalayananda. Paul and Neil have been students of him for over a decade. Kriyas are ancient ways to purify the system. They physiologically and psychologically clear pathways and change the pressure on the Nervous System.
Tratak is a short form of meditation with a fixed gaze on an object (we are using a candle) to stimulate the optical path. (Other than in India, it seems to have also originated by Buddhist monks staring at the full moon.) The eyes, being the only external part of the brain focus fully on one point and the conscious mind quiets, allowing the subconscious to come out. Since the first night of tratak, my dreams have been wild- extremely vivid and intensely emotional. Since I love that, I have been doing this kriyas every night.
The dreams stir me awake on and off throughout the nights until I reach for the alarm clock at 5:30. I have awakened myself every morning five to ten minutes before the abrasive beeping disturbs the morning peace. I am ready for the day- pure focus and dedication to my learning and spiritual path begins immediately. I slip out the door with my 1-liter water bottle and the teakettle in hand. I walk down the two sets of ten cement stairs down to our communal water jug (Culligan-style). The water is pH balanced, filtered, far-infared treated, purified, ionized and minerally and electrically charged (to increase bioavailability and cellular
I notice the full moon in all its glory, selflessly shining above.
I return to my room, quietly proceeding with my new morning ritual as to not wake my roommate who does not partake. This kriyas is a bit more physically involved compared to tratak. After the electric teakettle has turned itself off, I mix my organic Himalayan rock salt with a bit of warm water to encourage dilution. Then I mix it with my bottle of room temperature water to make the perfect solution for vaman kriyas. Squatting in the well-lit and beautifully clean bathroom, I pray to the divine and begin to slam 2-liters of salt water. The first time was pretty bad, but once you focus on the task and just let the mind's unease go… it’s really not that hard. Anyways, drinking it is the worst part. My back lightly pushes against the cool bathroom wall as I try to think about my breath. It doesn’t work for me to sip my way through the liter; I have to do it in four big sessions, telling my body it needs this as if it is cold Gatorade after a long run. I am just retraining my nervous system! After the liter is almost finished I begin prepare it for round two. The body is full of toxins; we have been eating them since we were born. The body (smart little sucker) wraps these poisonous toxins/acidic wastes in mucus and fat cells. The salt in the vaman kriyas draws out the mucus to let the toxins be properly flushed out. Sticking your fingers down your throat to engage the reflex is actually quite easy. I have got the process down to under 20 minutes time. I have a lay-down-session for 5-10 minutes after, while trying to learn another line in one of the many Sanskrit chants we are incorporating in our days.
I pull the window shade up as the light begins to gracefully trade shifts with the dark. Auspiciously, it is at the exact time that three monks on their morning alms route pass through the small street below, draped in their humble orange robes. I do a bit of reading or hop on the computer and then head off toward the ocean to the shala. This is when my day really begins. I find a seat on a rock wall in front of the beach and look out into the infinite. The waves are softly crashing on the sandy floor; the wind is warmly brushing against my cheeks. I love gazing at the horizon, reminding myself of the vastness of the world, of the unknown, of the things to be thankful for. It is a time and place where I can really understand that I am just a small piece of something so much greater. A speck of sand on the ocean floor.
The sky is light but the sun is just starting to pull it's covers off and seep over the cloudy horizon. The colors of brilliant red, soft pink, and luminous orange in this perfectly round bulb are impossible to catch in the camera. I have tried, hoping it will assist me to remember these moments and to try to share them with you. Palm trees connected to the earth behind me soar overhead and lean into my view. The morning is so calm. A few fishing boats visible around the newly painted reflection of the sun on the surface of the enormous field of open water. The reflection is jagged and broken by the movement in the water and that seems to make sense to me... how quickly reflections of the real light seem unstable and disconnected.
How can I continue to have a sincere moment of gratitude for this gift of life earth once I leave this beach- when there is not a blazing loud announcement with flashing lights saying “hey- this place (earth) is so rad!”? When the view of perfection and pure peace is cluttered with news on the TV, how do I remember this infinite greatness of the divine?
Answer: I will simply take a few minutes each morning to close my eyes and remember all I have to be thankful for… smile and breath as I give mental note of the vibrations and light running through everything, everyone. For, in one definition, that is what yoga actually is- the practice of stilling all the currents in the mind with a strong foundation and a free heart.
As I sit, I am so thankful for all of you who have touched my life…
I ask you all to take the time to do the same.
I love you, sincerely, thank you.
brit.
No comments:
Post a Comment