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January 12, 2008
Lightning & Levitation
I have mixed emotions about lightning. I admit that I have a mild fear of lightning. Not a run-for-the-cellar kind of fear, but more of a deep respect for the power of nature. I will also admit that a good thunderstorm makes me randy, baby! It’s a dichotomy of emotions that I can’t explain.
When we lived at our Schoolhouse in Canada, I went to the barn during lightning storms. If lightning struck one of the 23 big old maple trees, the house would have been crushed. On Platina, our two masts were like lightning rods, especially when we were the only thing on the sea for miles. A sailboat struck by lightning can be very dangerous, because usually every piece of electronic equipment (radios, navigation, GPS, autopilot, etc.) gets fried. During lightning storms, we put our laptops, portable GPS, portable VHF radios, cell phones, sat phones and any other portable piece of equipment – in the stainless steel oven. Reportedly, this is the best place to protect these things in a storm.
A series of electrical storms rolled through New York yesterday.
My Bikram yoga practice reached a plateau recently. I decided to cut back a bit, go to other Bikram studios in the city to introduce new elements to my practice, run more, and do more vinyasa yoga. I went with my dear friend and Bikram yoga teacher, Graham, to a class at the Chelsea studio yesterday. It was pouring rain when I arrived and I was soaked to the bone. No matter, I would be sweating profusely in a few minutes and it just didn’t matter.
There is an asana (pose) called Camel.
You stand on your knees, knees and feet 6 inches apart. You put your hands on your butt, drop your head back, and bend your total spine backward. If you feel comfortable (when in a pretzel, one never exactly feels “comfortable”?), drop your hands to your heels, grab on tight, then thrust your hips forward and your chest up. You look like a capital “D” from the side. On a physical level, it is a wonderful stretch for the front-side of your body and compression for the backside of the spine. Gravity drains the blood from your heart into your brain on one side, and into your lower body on the other. On a spiritual level, it is a very exposing, revealing and future-oriented asana. Your heart is exposed, and your genitals are thrust forward. I have come out of Camel and cried, laughed, wanted to bolt from the room. I have seen stars, and been uber-dizzy.
Camel, like lightning, is a dichotomy of emotions. Many asanas I hate (but practice because I know it’s good for me and makes me feel better). Many asanas I love. But only Camel I both hate and love.
My yoga practice is a journey. The destination is inner peace and awareness. Some believe that when you achieve these two things, you become one with the energy of the universe, a single source of pure white light. I get this from time to time, and it is wonderful and cathartic. But it is rare. It is a completely different feeling than an endorphin high from distance running, for example. It is less physical and more spiritual.
I know, by now many are thinking “Geez, Dave, you’re wackadoo” (thanks, Graham, for this wonderful South African word).
Back to yesterday’s practice. The Chelsea studio was very humid thanks to the rain. The windows were open a crack to let some air in to dilute the closeness of the humidity. I went into my first Camel, and things went well. I came out and felt pretty good (this rarely happens). I went into my second Camel and I had just gone past the “I hate this” phase, got a wonderful deep breath and moved into the “wow, this is unbelievable” phase. I lost myself in my breath, and I became aware that nothing else mattered but this perfect moment.
And then it happened. A bright flash of white light, followed a few seconds later by a loud crack of thunder. I didn’t flinch. Not a twitch. Not even a wiggle. I was beyond my fear of lightning and beyond my hate of Camel. I was in a place of deep awareness and peace.
I’m not doing the moment justice with these words. Often, the gift of language does not provide our species with the ability to properly communicate precious moments that are filled with such pureness and peace. For example, try to describe your best orgasm.
The decision to step out of my routine and change the elements of my journey was indeed cathartic. I am inspired again.
Namaste.
Posted by dave at January 12, 2008 10:53 AM