Tag: yoga humor

Kundalini for Newbies

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A good number of people wrote this week
to ask about Kundalini Yoga.

For those of you who aren’t
interested, hang in, and I’ll do my best to return to wonderful
thoughts on all things yoga next week, despite my Kundalini delirium,
from which I hope never to recover.

For those of you who do want a bit more
Kundalini Yoga, here we go.

Kundalini is an energy form said to contain the feminine potential (shakti) stored in the first chakra, at the base of the spine. The idea behind Kundalini Yoga–a mental, physical, and spiritual discipline–is to awaken that
energy, help it whoosh up through our spines, and somehow connect us
with the energy of the gods/Love/Grand Poobah/Universal Truth,
whatever your name is for the best of everything in the universe.

Kundalini Yoga uses kriyas, or specific series of exercises,
along with meditations throughout the practice, some chanting, and pranayama, including the intoxicating and detoxifying Breath of Fire.

All yoga will eventually arouse kundalini. But practitioners of Kundalini Yoga believe that this practice shifts that energy directly and quickly.

When you Google Kundalini Yoga, you’ll
read words like mystical, creativity, spirit, as well as power,
aerobic, and gentle. It’s no wonder we’re confused.

Here’s what I’ve noticed after
about two weeks of immersion:

  1. A definite buzz in my third eye
    after practice. That’s the sixth chakra. It feels delicious.

  2. A persistent warmth, rather than a
    buzz, in my neck and in my chest and upper back. Fifth and fourth
    chakras.

  3. A fluttery thrill just below my
    navel. Feel a bit sexy. I like this.

  4. The enormous attention paid to
    core work is changing the way I stand and the way I move.
    Bizarrely, it is changing the way I feel about myself. I feel
    powerful.

  5. The movements are rhythmic. It
    feels like dance, which satisfies a desire for physical creativity.

  6. Some of it is killer hard. I was
    ready for that.

That’s it for now. Apologies to the
experienced Kundalini yogis out there who may be cringing at my
introduction. Please feel free to send in corrections and whatever
crucial information I’ve left out.

On the other hand, if any of this
tickles that spot below your navel, give it a try. You might fall in
love.

Thanks to yoga for being varied enough
for all of us. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
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Kundalini Crush

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I’ve got a bad, bad case of Kundalini Crush. There’s no pride in saying this. I haven’t said
much about my last crush, on Javier Bardem, for example, even though
he is the best actor in the WORLD, because it sounds, well, a bit
trashy to have crushes when you’re older than 13.

Whether or not you admit it, though,
people catch on when the only movies you rent feature Javier Bardem,
you compare all men’s eyes to his (unfavorably), and all you can
talk about is the incredible depth of feeling in his incredible face.
(The overuse of superlatives is the number one sign you’ve gone
over the crush cliff.)

So, too, do you give yourself away when you convince your fellow actors that breath of fire is the best stage warm-up ever, when you stare
up at your own eyebrows, when
you start thinking you’d look fabulous in a white turban.

I’ve got it bad, and there’s not a
thing I can do about it except to ride it out. I’ll try not to
recruit you. I’ll try to respect that you may love your own yoga
to the same depth and breadth my soul can reach with Kundalini.
(Lapsing into Shakespeare is another sign you’ve gone over the
cliff.) You, for all I know, may think that Jean-Claude Van Damme is
the finest actor in the world. You may have your own yoga crush.

Truth is I’m only a week or so
into it. Perhaps I’ll have some perspective down the line. Or not.

Has this happened to you on your yoga
path? Have you ever jumped into a new form of yoga, one that knocks your socks off?

I’d love to hear.

Thanks to Kundalini yoga for being
AMAZING, brilliant, the best of the best. Of the very instant that I
saw you, did my heart fly at your service. Sorry. Shakespeare.

Thanks to Julie and Kelly, in the photo above, for giving breath of fire a whirl right before going on stage. Thanks to yoga, and to the fact that we love to fall in love.

Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
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Classes in My Basement

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Yoga exists on the other side of the known universe from television. That’s my opinionated opinion.

Or was. Yesterday’s mail changed that. I received my first three yoga DVDs, the ones I ordered after my introduction to Kundalini yoga. There are no Kundalini classes in my town, so I did what anyone would do: I went to Amazon, read four billion reviews, and ordered a few DVDs.

My practice has been in classes, mostly Ashtanga or Hatha, or on my own in my living room. What a departure to head to my lovely man’s yoga room in the basement this morning and pop my Kundalini teacher into the DVD player! Music! Encouragement! New moves! New teachers! New approach to yoga!

I loved it.

Will it replace classes for me? Not a chance. I’ve just recently been inspired once more to go back to classes.

Will it replace silent solo practice? I don’t think so. Silence is good. So is calling my own asanas.

I do foresee an immediate binge, though, of DVD Kundalini classes in the basement. (As binges go, one could do much worse.)

I’m curious. Do you do yoga by DVD? Do you have favourite DVDs? I’d love to hear.

Thanks to the yoga DVD industry for taking good excellent care of so many people at home. Thanks to the Raviana Kundalini videos in my basement (they are a blast) and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Beyond Science

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My daughter’s master’s thesis has
to do with the effect of yoga on heat shock proteins, if I understand
her correctly.

What it means is that she cycles across
Windsor, Ontario, every morning with a portable centrifuge in her
backpack, and a basket filled with other science-y tools. She calls
herself The Hobo Scientist. She cycles to a 6am Ashtanga yoga class
where she takes blood samples, skin temperature readings, etc., from
her participants half-way through each class.

Then Kali cycles back to school where
she inputs her data and does the rest of her school work. She
repeats her morning routine for a 6pm hot yoga class.

Her participants, reportedly a wildly
enthusiastic and formerly inactive bunch, are doing three classes per
week for the eight-week trial. Everyone expects amazing results. I’ll
keep you posted.

The yoga teachers involved in the study
prefer that Kali participates in the classes rather than sitting on
the sidelines, staring. (Talk about creating nervousness on the mat!)
In the interest of science, then, Kali has flung herself into an
intense yoga life.

Here’s the bit I love. Kali is a
fabulous athlete. Always has been. She runs, swims, cycles, and
plays basketball, volleyball, and extreme Frisbee with a kind of
bring-it-on ferocious joy. If you ever, ever find yourself in need of
a cheerleader/coach, Kali is your woman.

It turns out she’s humbled by yoga.
“It’s HARD,” she said yesterday. “I’m working really,
really hard.”

She mentions two goals at this point.
The first is to have her heels touch the floor in Downward Dog by the
time she finishes her master’s degree. They’re nowhere near the
floor at this point, she says.

The second goal is to figure out why
she begins to cry every time they do hip openers.

On Skype yesterday she was radiant. I
felt proud of her (this is the norm) and proud of yoga (this is
bizarre). Some great shift happened in the universe when Kali and
yoga got together.

It’s one thing to love yoga myself.
It’s another to see the same thing happen to my kid. Have you
experienced that?

Thanks to Kali, my beautiful, brave,
radiant daughter for taking on yoga. Thanks to yoga for taking Kali
on. And thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Yoga and Energy Management

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Oh, I adore yoga today.

Over a 20-year career in health
care practice, you can’t help but see that health care, indeed life
care, has everything to do with management of energy.

Some people have a strong sense of
their own power. They’re generally unafraid of their bodies, other
people, and life events. They trust. They’re the optimists, the
resilient ones who know that even when things look bad, they’re
headed in a great direction. They act out of confident joy. They are
motivated by fun, happiness, feeling good. (“It makes me feel
fantastic,” they say about traveling, about new careers, about
highland dancing, photography, about going back to school.)

At the other end of the spectrum are
those who are afraid of life, of their own bodies, of viruses and
bacteria (“Of course I’ll get that cold, I get all the colds”),
of the unknown, of scarcity, of the future. They don’t trust–they suffer. They act out of fear. Their choices are based on just-in-case scenarios and preventing bad
things from happening. They’re all about anti-cancer, anti-poverty, anti-aging,
anti-heart disease (“My mother had it, my father had it, my
brother’s going to get it, he eats so badly, god, I might as get on
the transplant list now.”), and on and on.

Some days we’re at one end of this
scale, and some days at the other.

We also manage our energy differently
in different areas of life. Think of finances, parenting, work,
death, career choices, sports. Think of your mother, your ex, your taxes. Think about going back to yoga class.

This is a huge subject, worth far more
than a wee blog, and my intention is not to trivialize.

I raise it to say this:

I love that every morning brings us the
chance to find out where we are in terms of managing our energy, and
the opportunity to make a new choice.

On those days when the monkey mind,
before I have even opened my groggy eyes, is chatting about
stiffness, getting older, and what I can’t do, I remember this
difference between fear and joy, and that’s enough to stop my
nonsense.

Most days it’s enough to snap me
into joy so that by the time my gnarly feet reach the mat, I’m
managing my energy in a way that takes good care of my body and of
the rest of my life.

I’ll bet anything we were born to learn to manage our energy through love and joy, and to leave fear behind.

What are your thoughts?

Thanks to morning yoga for teaching me
about choice, and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
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Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Nervousness on the Mat

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On the phone this morning, I mentioned
to my sister that I’m often anxious about going to new yoga
studios. Truth be told, I’m nervous going back to my home studio
whenever I’ve been away for a bit.

“So what?” said my sister, “I’m
afraid before every class.”

I called her back just now to ask about
that, and we chatted for 30 minutes about when and why
nervousness is a part of yoga life for both of us.

I don’t hear much from yogaland about
this. You write, mostly, saying you’re more comfortable on your
mats in yoga class than anywhere else.

That isn’t true for me. I’m most
comfortable on my mat at home. I’d stay there forever if my
practice didn’t skew over time into 48 Sun Salutations followed by
bits and pieces of favorite and not-too-challenging asanas. In fact,
I’d be content with that happy skew if my low back, hips, knees, and general spirit weren’t so vocal in wanting more.

Are you nervous about class, ever?

I feel it when I contemplate going. I
feel it as I drive to class. I feel it as I roll out my mat and as
the others roll out mats around me. The second class begins, the
tense gut disappears. I’m in love again.

My sister suspects her fear comes from
competitiveness (she should be levitating in full lotus by now, she
says) and a feeling that she must outperform herself each time, that
it isn’t enough to just show up and do what her body would like.
Some days her body doesn’t want to do much.

My discomfort involves a judgment about
my body, my sturdiness, about looking like a pudgy 13-year-old, something i was hoping to have moved beyond by the age of 49.  It’s a wish to be somewhere other than here and now.  I see the ridiculousness of it, but it doesn’t stop the discomfort.

This week I’m grateful for looking at
this clenched gut. It isn’t new, it’s just been hiding somewhere
while I practiced at home all winter.

Can you identify? No? I’d love to
hear, either way.

Thanks to yoga (I think) for sticking
with me while I run from and return to all these bits of self.
Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Perfect Timing

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On Tuesday I mentioned going to my
first Kundalini class at a new-to-me studio in Toronto.

It’d been a while since I’d been to
any class at all. The buzz it left me with was enough to bring me
back the next day for an Ashtanga class. With Havovi.

I have adored every yoga teacher who
has ever crossed my path. Every one of them has been supportive,
kind, warm, and in love with yoga.

Now and then I meet a teacher who
rattles me at a time when a good rattling is what I’m looking for.
Havovi is one of these.

The class was perfect. Hard enough to
sweat a river. Not so hard that I wanted to escape or collapse in a
heap. It found an edge that made me want to laugh. I had to work at
not laughing.

And over and over, looking right at me
(I’ll bet everyone felt she was staring at them), she said,
“Ashtanga has an incorrect reputation for being competitive. This
is your practice, and the practice is about your breath. First and
foremost, breathe. The rest will take care of itself. Whatever you
can do, do. Whatever you cannot do, accept.”

I may be paraphrasing slightly. A mild
delirium had spread by now through my body and brain.

I’m not sure what happened. Perhaps
I placed myself in her care by being in her class. Perhaps I was
just ready. Perhaps she’s crazily intuitive and a shaman as much
as a yoga teacher. Who knows? But her words about breath and about
acceptance found their way to some place that my self-talk hasn’t
reached lately during home practice. Something good opened up inside
my chest. Something that makes me feel better about myself. I don’t
know any more than that, except that whatever it is hasn’t closed
yet.

I think I’m ready to be a student
again.

Thanks to yoga for being there when I
want to chart my own course and for being there when I’m ready for
beautiful teachers. Thanks, thanks to Havovi at Bliss Yoga Studio in Toronto.

Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Why Meditate? Got a Grudge?

I had a grudge going this week. Full-out, personal, justified, thorny, supported by anyone to whom i presented my case, consuming, blood-pressure-raising, unattractive yet perversely seductive, impossible to let go, and exhausting.

That’s one truth.

Here’s another. I know that a week from now i’ll feel differently. In fact, if i don’t feel differently a week from now, if i haven’t moved past this, i’ll have no interest in living with myself.

That’s a funny thing about grudges. You’re okay with them in the moment. They feel good in some awful sliver-in-your-finger way, but jesus murphy, you don’t want to identify yourself as a grudge holder, you don’t want to be one of those semi-permanent bitter folk. (I picture rollers in stringy hair, gnarly knuckes, a wrinkled face under fluorescent factory lights, and cigarette smoke curling up from a thin, bitter mouth. Evil Bette Davis eyes. This could be me, i know it could.)

This is why i meditate today. In order to remind myself that who i am is deeper than a grudge, deeper than who’s to blame, deeper than the temptation to judge. Deeper than all the stuff I get right and all of the stuff I get wrong. Deeper than success and failure. Deeper than most of what goes on all day long.

Who i really am hums with a different crowd: with love, peace, good will, compassion, beauty everywhere i look, and peace.

When i don’t meditate, i fight my grudges.

When i do meditate, i remember who i am and wrap my grudges in love until they look like love inside and out.

Is that reason enough to meditate? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin

Meeting Kundalini

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In meditation circles, Kundalini yoga has a big-girl-on-the-block reputation. Something about Kundalini yoga, at least in theory, lends itself to meditation, altered states of consciousness, and bliss.

Wikipedia says this: Practitioners
call Kundalini yoga,the yoga of awareness because
they claim it directly affects human consciousness, develops
intuition, increases self knowledge, and unleashes the unlimited
creative potential that exists within every human being.

Who doesn’t
want to unleash unlimited creative potential?

Armed with this
information and nothing more, I dropped into a Kundalini class this
week in Toronto.

I was nervous.
So was my brother-in-law Clay.

We’re both Ashtanga fans, and we
didn’t know what to expect. (I’m nervous with every new class.
In fact, I’m nervous at my own studio whenever I’ve been away for
a bit. If you have any tips on how to get over this, I’m all
ears.)

Adding to my
nervousness was the fact that I hadn’t planned on doing a class, so
I was dressed in my clown-stripe pajamas, heavy clogs, and the
t-shirt I’d slept in. I looked as though I’d just made a
hasty escape from an institution of some kind, an escape so hasty there had been no time to find street clothes let alone yoga wear.

We
hyperventilated our way toward the studio like a pair of shifty-eyed bank
robbers. It’s a miracle they let us in.

Lesley, a vision
of radiant health, dressed in white (is this a Kundalini colour? I don’t know), welcomed us as though bank robbers were the mainstay of
her practice.

We began with
some lovely chanting, and headed straight into the breath of fire. Do you know the
breath of fire? It’s a Kundalini thing. Rapid, forceful
exhalations followed by automatic inhalations. Earlier this year I tried it on my
own, limiting myself to a minute at a time. More than this, my sources say,
and you might make yourself dizzy. I’m able to coordinate
my breath and abdomen for about 20 seconds at a time. After
that, everything goes off the rails into erratic breath and no discernible relationship between breath and body. A steam engine gone berserk.

In Lesley’s
class, we never really stopped the breath of fire. She continued it through
almost every pose, including a series of core-strengthening moves that taught me I have no core to speak of.

Enough. If
you’re a Kundalini fan, I don’t mean to offend with my ignorance.
If you don’t know Kundalini any more than I do, I’ll say this:

I’m completely
intrigued. It wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t particularly
comfortable. But there was a sense that my energy might be mobilized
in a new way with this breath and these asanas. I sensed a connection
between body and bliss that felt promising.

This morning I ordered a
few Kundalini DVDs so that I can give it a whirl in my basement.

Are you a
Kundalini fan? Can you enlighten us? What do you love about it?

Thanks to Lesley
at Bliss Yoga Studio in Toronto. Thanks to Clay for getting me there.
Thanks to yoga for being 1,000 different things, and thanks to you
for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

The Full Meal Deal

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We’re a cranky household this week.
Neither one of us has done our morning practice for four days. They
have been four long, long days.

My lovely man’s been working and,
well, I don’t know what else. I’ve been doing late nights in the
theatre and feel as though my circadian rhythms, which include waking
at 3:30 or 4am, will never return to normal.

Pat walks by me two or three times a
day with his hand on his low back, moaning, “yoga, yoga, yoga.”

Come to think of it, my low back’s a
bit wonky too, despite the fact that my pre-show warm up every
evening is basically a shortened yoga practice. What gives?

What gives is that I prefer the full
meal deal. I love the dark, the early hour, the full practice, the
savasana, and my meditation. My low back and every other part of me
wants the stretch, the warm strength moves, the standing balances,
the back bends, the spinal twists, not to mention the focus, the
acceptance of what is, the self-love, and the love for the day. The
full morning gift to myself.

Can you identify?

So don’t call, don’t write.
Tonight I’m going to bed early, and I’m getting up at four.

I’ll be a much happier woman the next
time we chat.

Thanks to yoga for being such a
demanding friend. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.