tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74205829869934110332023-11-16T02:42:54.004-08:00MAGS YogaMAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-36395523204607039272014-09-04T03:03:00.000-07:002014-09-04T03:03:49.244-07:00India Chapter 4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7OVoILJxI8osfQXt2P-NsytS8N32iORbo34jwBZeyerOYIlozZH_CqFDz3cCjFBkXJJGhW4eJ-EsCxvku-lp_Aogjszuh0yxe183g86bM9wnMH0AOg0Fq1exfSxS6Mm0ry7ZlxBdX4g/s1600/317369_10150894191110438_103381552_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7OVoILJxI8osfQXt2P-NsytS8N32iORbo34jwBZeyerOYIlozZH_CqFDz3cCjFBkXJJGhW4eJ-EsCxvku-lp_Aogjszuh0yxe183g86bM9wnMH0AOg0Fq1exfSxS6Mm0ry7ZlxBdX4g/s1600/317369_10150894191110438_103381552_n.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And so I’m
back in India. My body is still tired, getting over the jetlag and telling me
to take it easy, but my heart… my heart is pounding with love and gratitude. I
don’t know why, but that’s what this mad, chaotic country does to me. It’s
magic. Just magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I had been feeling
anxious for the last few weeks. Rushing around, getting things ready, packing,
saying goodbyes... and letting my mind go wild. Thinking too much. It’s like I’m
two different people living two different lives. Europe is the logical me, the
one who wants to unpack, settle down, have a feeling of stability. The one who
tries to control things, who needs schedules and plans. India is the me who
wants to run free, explore, lose all fears and let go. The wild and untamed
one. They’re both there, they’re both strong and it’s hard to keep both of them
happy. And pretty much impossible to give both of them what they want. Or I just
haven’t found the way. Yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Stop
thinking so much, chill, you’re in India,’ a friend wrote on chat a few hours
after I landed. And so I did. I went for a walk, had a super spicy vegetable
biryani and just kept breathing it all in. Today I was woken up by loud mooing
of a cow and chanting of a young girl. This cleared all the confusion as to
where was in seconds. And even though I’m in a completely new place, feeling a
bit lost as I don’t know my way yet, even though I am all alone and don’t know
anybody here, there’s this feeling of peace and bliss inside I rarely
experience anywhere else in the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So, yes, I’m
back in India. Back to mad road traffic, noise, smell of incents, vivid colours,
spices, cows, malas, chai, elephants, tuk-tuks, masala dosas, open hearts,
rawness. Back to no makeup or nail polish. Back to simple, unhurried life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Let India
chapter 4 be written. A new beginning, a new journey. A new, overwhelming
feeling of gratitude. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-38680356594860788742014-08-06T04:39:00.002-07:002014-08-06T04:39:47.411-07:00Notes from the Airport<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m sitting at the airport three hours before my first
flight. My eye has swollen so badly that I can barely see and has turned all
shades of black and green. I’ve got three stitches on my right temple. People
look at me with pity, probably thinking that I’ve got a violent boyfriend or
I’d got into a bar fight. My back is sore from the backpack (some serious
downsizing will be needed next time – seems like my packing skills are not as
good as I thought and I’ve brought way too much stuff with me) and from hours
spent on the bus. But I’m still smiling. I needed this. I needed to be on the
road again. I needed to taste freedom again - nowhere to rush, no plan, no
attachments. Once you get the travel bug, it’s impossible to get rid of it. It
will always be inside you, you can put it to sleep, but one day it will awaken.
And you won’t be able to resist the temptation to leave everything behind and
let the universe take you for a ride. The road will often get winding and
rough. Sweat, messy hair, dirty nails and unshaved legs will become your
day-to-day reality. The word ‘glamorous’ will be a distant memory. A "good hair day" will be a day when you rub some dry shampoo into your scalp. Clean sheets
in a cheap hostel and a cold shower will be a dream come true. But it won’t
matter. There will be far more important things. There will be a sunrise over
the Himalayas, a moment so magical, that your heart will be overflown with
gratitude and pure bliss. There will be a night when you dance salsa barefoot
until 4 am. There will be all night long conversations with people met on the
way that will leave you inspired and full of new ideas. There’ll be moments
when your heart skips a beat, when your breath is taken away, when you don’t
need words to communicate. There will be warm smiles of strangers passed on the
streets, excited faces of kids, curious looks of young adults. You’ll become
completely engrossed in the present moment, losing all preconceptions about
yourself and who you’re supposed to or expected to be. You’ll learn things no
book can teach you. And as soon as you’re back, you’ll want to do it all over
again. Because "Travel is more than seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living."</span></div>
</div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-9372248298862326252014-06-16T14:53:00.000-07:002014-06-16T14:53:35.053-07:00My Vipassana Experience - Part 4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 7<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Centre of Purification<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">The temperature was still low, which made
getting up in the morning even more difficult. Since day four, when I overslept
and came late to the first session, one of the servers kept checking I was awake
around 4.20, which made me feel like I was back at school and my mum was making
sure I was going to get to class on time. I wanted to tell the lady there was
no need for that and I wouldn’t be late again, but remembered I wasn’t allowed
to talk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">The morning sessions were really good. I felt
like I was in control of my mind and reactions. I could concentrate easily and
sit still through addithana hours. I started experiencing ‘free flow’ –
vibrations and energy flow on the whole body, with no pain and no blind spots.
There were only short periods of that, but it was a very nice feeling. They
told us not to get attached to it, as this would create a craving, and equanimity
should apply to both pleasant and unpleasant sensations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">But in the afternoon, something really weird started
happening. Until that moment, I hadn’t really experienced anything new, all the
sensations on my body were familiar. But in the first afternoon sitting I felt
something in my chest… Something very difficult to describe. A mixture of
energy, heat and cold, pulsations, tension and heaviness at the top of the ribcage,
forming a big lump, so strong that I couldn’t breathe. I’d never felt anything
like that before. I tried to remain calm and observe it, hoping it would go
away, but found it impossible to ignore it. I got scared. Maybe I was doing it
wrong? Maybe something had happened to one of my family members or close
friends and it was anxiety manifesting itself in this weird way?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">I tried to observe it and disconnect from it,
but promised myself I’d speak to the teacher if it didn’t disappear before the evening.
Every day at 9 pm, before going to bed, we were allowed to talk to one of the
assistant teachers if we had any questions or doubts. So far I hadn’t really
had any. But at that moment I really needed to know whether what I was experiencing was
normal. Because it didn’t feel normal at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">By the end of the day, the feeling was still
there. Sometimes it would be very faint, almost as if it was gone, but then it
would come back with new force, stronger than before. I thought of every
possible explanation – maybe it was indigestion? Maybe I was getting ill?
Catching a cold? Maybe it was an allergy? But I’d had all of these before and
none of them felt even remotely similar to what I was going through. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">After the last session, I stayed in the
meditation hall and waited for my turn to speak to one of the teachers. There
were two female teachers, but only one spoke English. She was probably in her
fifties, with delicate and soft features, radiating peace, love and beauty.
When I first saw her, I couldn’t take my eyes of her. She was glowing and each
time she smiled I could almost feel the warmth of her smile on my skin. I tried
to describe the sensation I’d been experiencing as precisely as I could to her,
explaining that it was something completely new to me. She asked where exactly
it was located and when I pointed just below the area where the ribs connect
with the sternum, she gave me one of her big, beaming smiles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">“That’s your centre of purification,” she explained.
“It’s normal, don’t worry. Just observe it. See what happens.” Centre of purification?
What the hell was that? What did it mean? But she didn’t say anything else.
“Just watch it. It’s fine, nothing to worry about.” I thanked her and walked back
to my room. As I was getting ready for bed, I felt a mixture of relief and
confusion. I was glad she knew what I was talking about, but I still had no
idea what it was. And my analytical mind wanted to understand and label it. It
wasn’t easy to let go of this desire. Fortunately, I was too tired to think
about it for too long and fell asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 8 AND 9<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Pain is in your mind<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">It was the last two proper days of meditation (day
ten was supposed to be a slow introduction back into the normal world, whatever
that meant, as I wasn’t really sure what ‘normal world’ was any more) and we
were asked to stay really focused. From that moment on, we should be meditating
all the time, even in the breaks, which meant that we should be aware of every
movement, every step we take and any sensations accompanying our actions. I'd thought ten hours of meditation per day was quite a lot and now we were
supposed to do what? Sixteen? I guessed they would keep us challenged until the
very end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">We were also told to be conscious of any sounds
we made in the meditation hall in order to minimize any distractions caused to
others. The room suddenly became much more quiet. I couldn’t even hear the guy
who used to clear his throat all the time. ‘Wow,’ I thought to myself.
‘Couldn’t they say that on day one? This is amazing, it should have been like
that from the start!’ Just as I thought that, I heard a long, laud fart on the
male side of the room. I smiled. Anitya – nothing is permanent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">On day eight, I really started feeling the
difference. My mind didn’t get distracted much, I was focused and aware. I
could feel all sorts of sensations, from pleasant vibrations and ‘free flow’ to
pain, especially during addithana hours. But it didn’t bother me anymore, it
ceased to be an issue. This was probably the most important thing I’d learnt so
far. I’d heard the ‘Pain is in your mind’ saying many times before and never really
understood it. ‘Whatever, I’m pretty sure I can feel it in my body,’ I’d think.
But I didn’t know how important my reaction to it was and how my mind could
make it ten times worse than it really was. Pain is an inseparable element of
our lives. Some people will experience it more than others. But instead of
complaining and wondering why it’s happening to you, you can learn to
disconnect from it. You can learn not to react. You can learn to let go of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">As I was sitting on the floor during one of the
addithana sittings, I looked closely at the pain in my neck and upper back. It
had been there for years, it would go away for a while, but it would always come
back. I realized that it wasn’t attached to any particular muscle or nerve.
It kept moving. I noticed how much I was tensing my upper back in my every-day
live, always on guard, chest pressed forward, ready to protect myself,
subconsciously trying not to let anybody hurt me. When I stopped focusing on
the pain, I could feel even the most subtle sensations in my body. It really
seemed like the wild bird of my mind had been tamed. It still had a long way to
go if it wanted to find the way out and get liberated, but it was calm and
quiet. I could touch it. I could stroke it. We were finally friends!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">In most sessions, except for maybe the last one
in the afternoon, which was still hard, I stopped waiting for the gong to go
off. I stopped wondering how much time was left. I wanted to make the most out
of every sitting. And I tried to maintain that awareness during the breaks. I
walked slowly, took my time with everything I did. I don’t think I’d brushed my
teeth so thoroughly ever before! The colours seemed sharper, the sounds –
clearer. The leaf was still there. But I didn’t see myself in it anymore. I
felt like I was one of the new green buds surrounding it. I wasn’t desperately
trying to hold on to my tree, scared of being blown off by the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">The lump in my chest, the mysterious ball of
energy and tension, didn’t go away. Sometimes I could barely feel it, it would
be very subtle, other times it would appear so sharp and strong that I
struggled to breathe. But I followed the instructions and observed it, trying
to remain equanimous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">Everybody around seemed to have been taking it
seriously. More people had disappeared on day six and seven, including the girl
who used to pace around the courtyard during breaks looking for eye contact. It
was a shame, I was pretty impressed she made it that long. But those who were
left all seemed very calm and focused. Even the lady in the pink fleece sat
quietly in her chair during evening discourses, without getting up and walking
to the back of the room. And I'd thought she wouldn't make it past day two! Another lesson - stop judging people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">As I lay in bed on day nine, I realized I
didn’t want it all to end. The next day at 11 am we would be allowed to talk.
But I didn’t feel ready for it. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to speak! I’d
thought I’d be dying to chat to somebody. I’d thought I’d be waiting
impatiently for the moment when I can share my experience with others, find out
who they are, listen to their stories. But all I wanted was to be on my own.
Just with myself. I felt like I needed more time, more awareness, more peace. ‘What’s
happened to me?’ I remember thinking. ‘Am I never going to enjoy the company of
other people again? Have I become an antisocial recluse that will now sit alone
at home all the time?’ I really hoped I hadn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 10<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Release<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">I woke up at 4 am and realized that from the
next day on I wouldn’t have to get up at crazy hours any more. I was definitely
relieved, as I’d never been a morning person, but I managed to get used
to getting up at 6 when I started teaching yoga. Six is ok. Four is just wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">I smiled at the thought of a lie in and a nice
cup of coffee. I’d be free to do whatever I wanted. I’d be able to speak again!
But how was I supposed to start talking to these strangers
around me </span>all of a sudden? What would I say to them?</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">The last session before the end of noble silence
went really well. I managed to completely disconnect and just observe
sensations in my body. When the gong went off, I didn’t want to open my eyes. I
was one of the last people to leave the meditation hall. As I entered the courtyard,
I could hear chatting, excitement and laughter. “That’s it. I’ve done it. I got
to the end. I can speak now,” I thought. But the words just wouldn’t come out.
I tried to say something, but the voice was stuck in my throat. The big lump of
energy and tension was pulsating harder than ever before in my chest and I
simply couldn’t get a word out of my mouth. “What the hell is going on with me?
Have I gone mad? Will I ever be able to speak again?” I kept thinking while I
was walking back to my room, trying to hold the tears coming into my eyes. I
lay down on the bed, curled into an embryo position and covered my head with a
blanket. I stopped trying to control the tears and just let them flow. Soon
after I was sobbing uncontrollably, like I’d never done before. I had no idea
what was going on. I generally don’t cry much, I didn’t even cry when Leo died
in Titanic! I’m living a happy, balanced life, appreciating every moment. I’m
strong and independent. Or at least I’d like to think so. And there I was, all
weak and vulnerable, feeling completely exposed, stripped down to the very
core, to some deeply buried feelings I had no idea existed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">I didn’t know where it was all coming from.
There were no images attached to it, no past hurts, worries, fears or disappointments.
But as the tears streamed down my face, I could feel the ball in my chest
slowly dissolving and disappearing. Something was being released. “This is your
centre of purification,” I remembered the teacher’s words when I told her about
the tension underneath my ribcage. ‘Well, it must have been pretty dirty and in
need of a good clean-up,’ I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">About twenty minutes later I calmed down and was ready
to face the world. I felt as if somebody had lifted ten kilograms of my chest!
I washed my face, put a bit of make-up on to cover my red eyes and cheeks and
decided to try talking again. As I introduced myself to an American girl of
Indian origins who’d been volunteering at a Nepalese orphanage for the last few
months, I didn’t recognize my own voice. It sounded strange and distant, as if
it belonged to somebody else. Not long later we were joined by two more girls,
one of whom slept on the bed next to me for the past ten days. I found out she
was Czech and had been travelling around the world with her boyfriend for over
eight months now. This was their last stop and they were flying back home in a
few days. I also spoke to the lady in the pink fleece and found out she was
from Venezuela, not Russia. 'Another bad judgment', I thought to myself. After about twenty minutes, I felt extremely tired
and started getting a headache. I didn’t realize chatting could take so much
effort! I needed a break. I needed some peace and quiet. There was too much
noise around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">The rest of the day was a slow introduction into
the ‘real world’. We still had two more meditation sessions, but we were allowed
to speak during the breaks. There was also a book display and a documentary
about the use of Vipassana as part of prisoners’ rehabilitation project in
India. I was glad to have that transition day – otherwise I didn’t think I
could face the reality outside the centre’s gates. I found out that I still had
to get up at 4 am the next day for the morning sitting, but it didn’t really
bother me too much – I knew I’d be free at 6.30 and I'd be allowed to sleep as much as I
wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">As I lay in bed that evening, I tried to
remember as many details as I could about my experience at Dhamma Shringa. I
wanted to write it all down immediately so that I wouldn’t forget. ‘Tomorrow,
I’ll start tomorrow,’ I thought and fell asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 11<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Return to the real
world<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">After the last morning meditation sitting and breakfast,
we were given back our mobile phones and other deposited items and got on
minibuses to Kathmandu. As we were getting closer to the city, I realized I
couldn’t stay there. The capital of Nepal is a noisy and polluted city and it
was too much for my senses. Too many stimuli after these ten days of complete
silence, peace and quiet. It was as if somebody had put the TV on full blast
and I couldn’t turn it down. I felt completely overwhelmed and decided to go to
Nagarkot, a little village in the mountains I’d heard about from one my
students, as soon as I could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">After breakfast with the American-Indian
girl (coffee had never tasted that good!), I met up with Bishnu who quickly
checked buses to Nagarkot and found out there was one leaving in a couple of
hours. I booked my tickets straight away and head off to the mountains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">I checked into the quietest hotel I could find.
It was called “Hotel at the End of the Universe” and it really lived up to its
name. I spent the next three days watching the sun rise above the highest peaks
of the Himalayas (a truly magical and unforgettable experience!), rambling around, basking in the spring sun, meditating, sipping tea at rooftop cafes,
admiring the views and writing, writing, writing. Getting it all out. Breathing it all in again. Slowly
coming back to the real world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s been two and a half months now since I
finished the course – it took me a while to edit things I wrote and get a
perspective on everything that happened. I managed to keep up the meditation
practice – of course it’s not as intense as it used to be and as I would like
it to be, but I can definitely feel its benefits and impact on my every-day life. It made
me calmer, more balanced, and more motivated and effective as I don’t waste
time letting my mind take control and overthink things. It gave me new
confidence to work hard and follow my dreams. It didn't make me a recluse (I still love a good party!), but definetely made me want to spend more
time on my own, made me feel much more comfortable being by myself and with
myself. Of course there’s a lot more, but these are the main things I noticed.
I’m trying to find time to do another course this summer, hopefully in August,
when I come back from Costa Rica. And I’m looking forward to sharing what I’ve
learnt with my students!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">If you’re thinking of taking the course, check </span><a href="http://www.dhamma.org/"><span lang="EN-US">www.dhamma.org</span></a><span lang="EN-US"> for a list of centres and course
dates. The courses are run all around the world and are free of charge, but you
can leave a donation once you’ve completed the full 10 days. Please feel free
to comment and message me with your thoughts, opinions and questions!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">Be happy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">MagsYoga<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-55494756090791032252014-05-26T10:51:00.000-07:002014-05-26T10:51:14.374-07:00My Vipassana Experience - Part 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 4<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Practsing Vipassana<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">When I heard the morning bell, I was curled
into a fetus position, with the duvet covering my head. There'd been a big storm the night before and the
temperature suddenly dropped. I hated the idea of getting up. But I had another
thirty minutes before the first sitting, so I didn’t move and closed my eyes
again. Something wasn’t right though. It was unusually quiet around – no sounds
of people rushing about and getting ready. But I didn’t make much of it and
thought it must have been the cold and everybody was still in bed, just like
me. As I was lying there, half-asleep, waiting for the second gong, I felt a
nudge at my feet. I lifted the duvet off my face and saw one of the dhamma
workers. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. I knew what had
happened. That WAS the second gong! Somehow, I didn’t hear the first one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I got up quickly and put some
clothes over my pajamas, wrapped myself tightly in my blanket and rushed to the
meditation hall. I felt like a naughty school kid who’d overslept for the first
class. Although if I really had been at school, I’m sure I’d have taken my
time. Especially if it was Maths class first.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I sat down quietly on my pillow and
shivered. It was cold and damp. I wondered if the leaf had survived the storm.
The chances were pretty small, it rained heavily all night, I could hear
thunders and strong wind. Was it symbolic? Did it mean that things were going
to get more difficult? Or was it a sign that the worst was over?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">It was the first day of Vipassana
meditation</span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">and we were supposed to observe
sensations on our bodies – itching, throbbing, pulsations, vibrations,
heaviness, lightness, cold, heat, pain – anything. We were warned not to look
for anything in particular, just to sharpen our minds and focus all our
attention on watching what’s going on. If we came across any blind spots, areas
with no sensations, we were asked to scan them very slowly and carefully and
then move on without creating any cravings. It was easy to feel
things on my arms and legs, but my head and trunk… not much there. Except for
pain and tension in my neck and upper back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">My mind was definitely more focused.
It was easier to concentrate on scanning my body than to just watch respiration.
It still wandered away quite often, but seemed clearer and sharper. There was
still some pain, but it was manageable. It really seemed like things were
getting better.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">The first session at dusk and the
last in the afternoon were still the hardest and had little to do with
meditation. I was too tired to concentrate and I would catch myself waiting for
the final gong to go off pretty often. But the others weren’t too bad. I felt
like I was slowly regaining control over my mind, the bird would sometimes listen
and sit calmly on top of the cage, chirping happily.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Was this really how Buddha got
enlightened? Sitting under a tree and observing sensations in his body until it
completely dissolved and enabled him to see the reality beyond mind and matter?
Apparently so. I was definitely nowhere near that. And at that stage, I didn’t
really believe I’d ever be. I didn’t think I could give up sensual pleasures of
everyday life. I didn’t even think I would like to. I love treating myself to a
cocktail and a new dress. I love these simple days when you sip coffee for the
whole morning, feeling perfectly content.</span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I don’t think I could completely devote my life to serve other people –
and apparently that’s what happens when you get enlightened. You need to share
it, spread it, give it to others. Fair enough, but giving up your life?
Yourself? Not sure about that. Don’t all spiritual teachers preach self-love as
one of the most important elements of a happy life? What about self development
and exploration? Don’t you need time for yourself to do that? Or does it mean
you’ve explored everything and there’s nothing left? Again, I’m not sure I like
the idea. Or maybe my ego doesn’t.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I decided that the best I could do
is work on creating some good karma in this life and being a better person.
That should be enough, shouldn’t it? And maybe in the next one… Who knows. I
could already see the effects of the technique – I was much calmer, more aware,
more in control. Some of the anger and frustration I had been feeling for the
past three days had disappeared. By observing sensations in our bodies and
remaining equanimous to them, we eradicate subconscious reactions of our mind.
When we feel pain, our mind straight away creates sadness, irritation,
resentment. When we feel pleasant vibrations, it produces joy. By learning not
to react to these sensations, we learn to change these hidden patterns of our
mind and to be aware of how we react to things that happen to us, which in turn
changes the way we perceive them and how we feel about them. If somebody
insults us, we react straight away with anger and similar verbal abuse. But if
we step back, we will realize that this unnecessary unconscious reaction will
only leave us frustrated for the rest of the day and will give the other person
satisfaction and make their behavior justified.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Observing your own reactions is
something you should do in your daily life. It may be a slow process – first
you’ll learn to see them in retrospect. You’ll look back on things and admit
you weren’t right. Later on, you’ll be able to recognize them when they happen.
You’ll be able to say ‘Hey, I know what’s happening and I’m not going that way!’ </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Stopping these subconscious
reactions can have a tremendous impact on every aspect of your life. You’ll
learn to communicate openly, leaving your ego and emotions behind, explaining your
ideas and expectations clearly and not settling for less then you deserve. You’ll
be able to see things as they are and not as your mind projects them. And
meditation can help you achieve that – it will help you unclutter your mind,
make it calmer and sharper, capable of seeing things clearly, without the interference
of your ego. It will teach you how to stop reacting to outside factors and
listen to yourself. Because all answers are inside you, you just need to look very closely to see them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">During the break, I was surprised to
find out that the leaf had survived the storm. I couldn’t believe it was still there.
When I’d</span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">first seen it a few days
earlier, it looked like it was going to fall any second. It looked weak. Maybe
because I felt weak myself. Now, after the storm, it looked like nothing could
break it. I smiled and sat on the bench. I thought of different religions and
how we let them become so impure. Islamic extremists killing in the name of
god, devoted hinduists gang-raping women, Christian priests sexually abusing
children… And these should be people we look up to. Every religion has the same
fundamental values – creating good, peace and love. It’s great to believe in
God – it makes life easier and purposeful, gives us hope. But instead of
focusing on mechanical rituals, instead of just going to church on Sunday and
saying prayers every day, we need to look inside, start with ourselves. Work on
being better people and making the world a better place. Whatever the religion,
whichever path you choose.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">And that’s what I like about
Buddhism. Have you ever seen an unhappy Buddhist monk? One that would harm
other people in any way? They’ve got the basics right. Buddhism is not a
religion and Buddha is not God. Every enlightened person is a Buddha and God is
truth. I wouldn’t call myself a Buddhist, I don’t really need a label. All I
want is personal and spiritual development. Happiness and peace starting deep
inside, balance which can’t be shaken or destroyed by outside conditioning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">There were still a lot of thoughts
in my head. I thought about my life goals, future plans and ideas, dreams.
Where was I going? Where did I want to get? And how would </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I do it? Yes, I was living a yogic life,
living in the present, enjoying the moment, not planning too far ahead. But
somewhere at the back of my head, I had a pretty clear picture of what I wanted
to do. And I knew I had to take action and make it happen. Living in the
present does not necessarily mean having absolutely no plans. It’s about not
getting attached to them. Not letting them restrict you. Not thinking this is
the only way to go. Because they might change. They will change. They should
change. And if you’re attached to them, if you hang onto them at all cost, you’ll
just waste time and miss the moment when you’re supposed to head in a different
direction. I’d done it myself for a really long time. I’d had a ten-year plan
and thought I knew exactly where everything was going. And ever since I let go
of it and started listening to signs around, the most amazing things started
happening. Naturally and organically, without any force, stress or tension. And
I’d never been happier.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I realized there were still some
things I needed to sort out, things I hadn’t dealt with. I thought about people
I hadn’t been in touch with for a while and promised myself to write to them. All
this came when I let go and stopped craving for big realizations. Another proof
that everything happens in its own time. All I had to do was let go, breathe,
observe myself and everything slowly started to unfold. It really looked like
things could only get easier. At least that was what I thought until the
evening discourse and the instructions for the next day.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 5 AND 6<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Addithana means strong
determination<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">In the evening discourse we were told that the
next day we would start practicing Addithana, which means strong determination.
This meant that for the three one-hour sittings we should try to stay
completely still. No adjusting , moving arms or legs, or opening eyes. ‘You’re
joking, right?’ I thought to myself. ‘I’ve only just managed to stop crying in
pain. There’s no way I’d be able to sit for an hour without any movement!’ Especially
not in the afternoon. Afternoon sessions were still tough and although the pain
seemed to have gone down (or I got used to it), I really didn’t think I was
ready for that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">When the first addithana session
started, I took my time to find a comfortable position and make sure that I was
warm and tucked up in my scarf and blanket as tightly as possible. I closed my
eyes and started watching my breath. For the first few minutes I focused on
observing my respiration and calming my mind before I moved to scanning my body
for sensations. It felt good, I was focused, there were some pleasant
vibrations on my arms and legs, I could feel the energy flowing. A few blank
areas, a little bit of pain in my upper back and some tension in the neck… but
generally, it wasn’t bad.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">The first half an hour went well, I
followed the instructions and kept scanning my body. My mind was listening to
me. But then the pain in my right hip came back and my left leg went numb. I
remained still but got completely distracted. All I could think of was the
final gong. </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Was everybody suffering like
this? I could definitely hear some people around moving. </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">‘It must have been more than an hour. Maybe
the teachers have forgotten?’ I wondered. I wanted to look around the room, but
remembered I shouldn’t open my eyes. All I could think of was the final bell. I
couldn’t feel my left leg and my mind was telling me I should move, but I kept
pushing the idea away. I knew there wasn’t much time left and I was determined
to make it. When the bell finally rang, I slowly opened my eyes and
straightened my legs. I spent a few minutes massaging my feet and trying to
bring the circulation back. But I felt a real sense of achievement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">The purpose of these sittings was to
learn to accept the reality as it is, without creating cravings for or aversion
towards any particular sensations and therefore eliminating subconscious mental
conditioning. Going through the pain and unpleasant sensations without reacting
to them is the path to liberation, the path to realizing that nothing is
permanent. This is the nature of life. Everything comes and goes. We cannot
control it. All we can do is let go and accept it. It’s easy to understand it
on an intellectual level, but eradicating all the reactions and mental
conditioning? How hard is that? How long would it take? And what do you need to
go through to get there? It still felt like something completely out of my reach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Having survived the first addithana
sitting, I couldn’t help feeling proud and happy with myself. I felt strong. I felt
inspired to do things, full of ideas and hope. When I sat down for the first
one-hour sitting in the afternoon, I was sure I could do it. I’d done it
before. But after ten minutes, my legs went completely numb. I tried to ignore
it, but about half an hour later, I got scared. ‘It can’t be good for me,’ I
thought. ‘The blood isn’t flowing down to my feet. This can’t be healthy. What
if I lose feeling in my legs completely?’ My mind won, I moved, stretched my
legs and massaged my feet for quite a while until they got back to normal. I
returned to Siddhasana feeling disappointed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">The last addithana session was even
worse. I had to adjust the pose two or three times and my mind was all over the
place again. During the break I lay down under my duvet (it suddenly got really cold so I was spending most of my free time in bed, wrapped up in as many
layers as possible) and thought about the day. One successful session, two crap
ones. I realized I was being too harsh on myself. It was the first day. It was
perfectly fine that I couldn’t sit still through the whole hour. Most people
needed to adjust their poses. Some would still get up and walk to the back of
the room or go out for five minute breaks. It wasn’t a competition and I didn’t
need to be the best. There was nobody to impress, nobody to judge me. Except
for myself and my ego. If I was supposed to learn equanimity, I knew I had to
stop judging myself. ‘If I really have to move, I’ll move,’ I thought to
myself. Without a trace of disappointment. Trying to maintain focus.
Sensations are not important, it’s our reactions to them that matter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I could see how much progress I’d
made. A few days ago I was crying in pain on the floor. Now I could feel my
right hip opening up every day, something I’d been working on in my yoga
practice for years! I wasn’t counting the days down anymore. I wanted to make the most of
the days I had left, make every minute meaningful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">To my surprise, I wasn’t missing
talking to people. I loved having time just for myself. This was something
completely new – I realized I’d been unable to be on my own for too long – I’d
always go out and seek company of people, I'd never spent too much time at home.
I knew this would change after I finish the course. The main thing I missed was
writing. There were so many things going on in my head that all I wanted to do
was to note it all down. I felt like I was writing books in my head. I was
narrating things that were happening in order to understand and process them. I
missed physical practice a little bit, but I knew it was good to give my
body a break. And I did some gentle stretches every day, mainly for my upper
back, hips and quads.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Before I started, I’d
thought ten days was too much. I didn’t understand why beginners had to go
through that straight away, it seemed like it would make much more sense to
make shorter courses. Now I knew why. It was only now, on day six, I was slowly
beginning to understand how to do things and what it was all about. I felt like
I’d need more than ten days. I was already thinking when to take the next
course.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">To be continued</span></div>
</div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-85582477675500870662014-05-16T09:07:00.001-07:002014-05-16T14:50:05.092-07:00My Vipassana Experience - Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 1<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Revenge of angry hips</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">I woke up to a weird sound,
completely disorientated. My feet were frozen and it was
pitch black and very quiet around, except for that annoying sound. A gong. It
took me a few seconds to realise what was going on. 4 am. Time to get up. I
knew that the first session didn’t start until 4.30, so I decided to stay in
bed and just get up five minutes before the sitting, brush my teeth, put some
clothes on and comb my hair. Five minutes should be enough. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
I closed my eyes and immediately fell back to sleep and got woken up by the second bell, the one
calling students for the first meditation. I put a jumper over my pajama top,
wrapped myself in a blanket I bought from Kathmandu market and rushed to the
bathroom to brush my teeth. Screw the hair, not enough time. Three minutes
later, I was in the meditation hall. We’d all been assigned our seats – little
pillows scattered around the room, which we'd keep until the end of the
course. From then on, I was known as G4. I wished mine was closer to the wall,
maybe I could lean back and nobody would notice. I sat down, put a scarf on my head
and wrapped myself tighter in my yak wool blanket. Right, respiration. Observe
the breath. Inhale, exhale. I tried hard, but my mind kept coming back to one
thought – why was I not in bed? And when could I go back there? ‘Two hours,
only two hours. Then I’ll have a break and I'll be able to have a nap,’ I repeated
in my head, waiting for the session to end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
There
were all sorts of noises around. Human noises. I could understand coughing and
sneezing, but burping and farting? Really?! And this horrible sound Indian men
do when they clear their throats… there was a guy in the room who did it every
few minutes! I couldn’t stand it. ‘Have these people got no manners? Are they
not aware of how distracting that is to others? Clearly somebody should have a
chat with them!’ I kept thinking to myself. ‘But hey, I’m supposed to be
focusing on me. Breath. Nostrils. In and out,’ I tried to concentrate. We
weren’t allowed to use any mantras, words or visualisations to help us focus
our minds. But how to do it without them? Breath, just observe the breath. Very
simple. Or at least it seems so. Try it now. Close your eyes and watch your
breath coming in and out. How long can you go without a thought appearing in
your head? Exactly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
I
was shocked by how little control I had over my mind. How disconnected I was
from myself. I thought all the yoga would make it all easy – after all, the
purpose is the same: ‘Yoga chitta vritti nirodha’. Yoga is the end of the
fluctuations of the mind. Well, it seemed like I had an awfully long way to go.
It looked like thinking was something that was happening to me rather than
something I was consciously doing. That’s what it is for most of us, I suppose.
It’s easy to get trapped in our own thoughts, to become so engrossed in them
and attached to them that we lose the ability to step back and see things as
they are, without the interference of our ego. We think we're always right. And it’s
always others that should change, not us. ‘If only my partner changed a little
bit… Everything would be better!’ It’s easy to see other people’s
faults. Easy to blame them for our problems, failures and unhappiness. Much
more difficult to leave your ego behind and notice that we are the ones who
create them. Our mind creates them. Our own thoughts and reactions to them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
I
was reminded of that a few minutes later, when I heard a gentle, faint snoring
sound and realised where it came from. My own mouth. I’ve dozed off! I laughed
at myself for getting annoyed with other meditators making noises. I guessed I
would have to get used to it and learn to ignore it. It’s not them, it’s me.
It’s all about the way I react to it. I guessed that was going to be my first
lesson.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
When
the gong finally went off, all I felt was relief. I could have breakfast and go
back to bed for an hour. Sweet. And then eight more hours of that… can’t say I
was looking forward to it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
I
was woken up again at 8 am, this time feeling much more awake. The first
morning session was one hour, followed by a 5-minute break and then another two
hours. My mind reminded me of a wild bird let out of the cage, flying aimlessly
around the room, trying to find a way out. From time to time, it would find a
shelf to sit on for minute and then take off again, madly fluttering its wings
and not really getting anywhere. You’d think it would finally get tired and sit
still for a bit. Well, let me tell you, it didn’t look like that was going to
happen anytime soon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">It’s impossible
to remember all the thoughts that appeared in my head. Some were so ridiculous that
all I could do was just laugh. Others seemed super important and I wanted to
write them down straight away before I forgot. Brilliant ideas. Past experiences.
Future worries. I was completely overwhelmed by what my mind was doing. ‘I’m a
yoga teacher, for god’s sake! I should be peaceful and balanced. I should be in
control,’ I kept thinking. But I seemed very far from it. My body was aching
and I had to change positions often. I was saved from my own mind by the bell
signaling the end of the last morning session. Two hours break! TWO HOURS!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
I
took a quick, freezing cold shower (only worked out around day six or seven
that hot water was usually available in the afternoons) and made my way to the
dining hall. Having heard some pretty horrible stories from people doing Vipassana at other
centres, I was pleasantly surprised by how good the food was – simple dal baht,
but very tasty. I’d happily pay for it if they served it to me in a restaurant.
You could eat as much as you wanted, but you were asked not to waste any food.
I knew this was my last proper meal of the day – after that we would only get
some fruit and tea in the afternoon, so I played with the idea of going for seconds,
but then decided I’d had enough. I spent the rest of my break doing some
stretches, laying on my blanket in the sun and admiring the view over the
mountains and Kathmandu valley. I wished the grounds were a bit bigger or that
they would let us go to the park - the female area was so small that ‘going for
a walk’ involved pacing around a tiny courtyard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
When
I heard the bell ring at 1 pm, I knew things were going to get harder. Four hours in
a row – one and a half hours, five minutes break, then one hour, and then another
hour and a half. As I sat down for the first session, my mind seemed to have
been even more agitated than in the morning. I didn’t really think that was
possible. My hips were literally falling apart. I’d had no idea how tight my
right hip was! It had always been stiffer than the left one but this… this was
just pure agony. During the whole last session, my hip was screaming. Was it
all those years playing basketball as a teenager? Or have I stored lots of
stuff in there? Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand the pain. I found it
impossible to disconnect from it and focus on anything else. I was aware of the
fact that whatever I was doing there on the floor had little to do with
meditation. But I couldn’t really do anything about it. Now I know that I could
have asked the teacher for some extra pillows or try sitting on a chair, but I didn’t
realize it at the time. I thought I just had to grit my teeth and push through
it. And so I did. When the gong went off and I tried to bring my legs together,
my face was flooded with tears. I couldn’t get up. I pulled the edge of the scarf I had
wrapped around my head down to cover my red eyes and cheeks. A few minutes
later, when I was finally able to move, I made my way back to my room and lay
down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
People
told me it was going to be tough. But I didn’t expect so much pain. Especially
not in the hips, I thought it would probably be back and neck. As the break
went on, the pain slowly subsided. I spent most of the time in bed, trying not
to move and relax all the muscles. Before the evening session, I managed to
calm myself down. It would all get better. It had to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
The
evening sitting was only one hour. After the break, it seemed manageable. The pain
was still there, but it was bearable. I was a bit more focused. The wild bird
of my mind kept madly fluttering its wings, but seemed too tired to fly away
too far. After the session, we were divided into different language groups and
went to watch the discourse. The founder of Vipassana in India, Mr. Goenka, a
former businessman born to Indian parents in Myanmar, spoke to us from the TV
screen. ‘The first day is over. You’ve got nine more to go,’ he started. Shit.
Nine more days of this. Breathe. Then he proceeded to explaining things that
had been happening that day, assuring us that everything going on in our heads
was absolutely normal, and gave us instructions for the next day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
In
the last sitting, which was only half an hour long, we were supposed to follow
the instructions for the next day – this time we were asked not only to observe
the respiration, but also to watch for any sensations appearing in the nostrils
and the area blow the nose and above the upper lip. We were asked not look for
any particular sensations, but to observe anything that came up – itching, throbbing, pulsations – anything. When
the session finished, we were allowed to go to bed, unless we had any questions
for the teachers. We’d been informed that the questions should be kept to a minimum
and should be related to current problems with the technique. I didn’t have any
questions. Well, I did, but I guessed that 'could I stay in bed for the first sitting and start at 8 am?' wouldn't be met with much enthusiasm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
As
I lay down in bed, all I could think of was that I had nine more days of that.
Nine days. It seemed like nine years. Would I be able to tame the wild bird of
my mind? Would my hips stop screaming? I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but
sill curious to see what would happen, where it would all take me. With that in
mind, I fell asleep.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 2<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">I am clearly insane<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">When I heard the wakeup call, it seemed like
I’d only just fallen asleep. ‘Why are they doing this to us? I don’t think
anybody sane voluntarily gets up at 4 am! It was Saturday night (I really
wouldn’t consider 4 am a Sunday morning!) and most of my friends in Goa are just finishing the party at Silent Noise. And going to an after party. And I'm supposed to get up and start meditating. Why again did I sign up for this?’ I
kept thinking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Again,
I spent the next half an hour dozing off, then rushed out of bed when the
second gong went off. These first two hours seemed like a complete waste of
time. Every now and then my chin would suddenly drop and I’d realize I’d
fallen asleep. The rest of the time I would spend either wishing I was in bed,
wondering why I was there, or waiting for the bell to signal the end of this
torture.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
morning sittings were much easier. As I’d had a nap in the break, I was feeling
well-rested and ready to explore the depths of my mind. Cut it open. Examine
it. Understand it. Disconnect from it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Observe the breath and sensations
– all right. Well, kind of. My mind still kept wandering away. I realized how
weird it was to be surrounded by so many people, but not to know anything about
them. Not even knowing their faces. I knew the girl sitting in front of me, G3,
had blond hair. And the one next to her was wrapped up in a red blanket. I had
no idea where the girl sleeping next to me was from or what she looked like. It
seemed like everybody was angry with each other, looking down whenever their
paths crossed. There was only one girl who was constantly looking for eye
contact. She appeared to be very agitated, I’d see her pacing up and down the
courtyard at the end of each session. I knew it must have been ten times harder
for her, she couldn’t sit still and it looked like she was fighting a really
tough battle. I felt lucky. Even though I was a bit disappointed with myself
for not being able to switch off, I knew that all those years of doing yoga
gave me a good starting point. In my head there was not a trace of doubt in the technique, the purpose of meditation in general or the overall result of
the experience – whatever it was, I knew it would be good for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I
was perfectly aware that my mind is not the real ‘me’. That it can create
illusions. It’s not always right. How often do you worry about things, spend
hours thinking about them, analayzing every little detail from every possible
angle just to discover later that there was absolutely no need for that? How
many times have you created scenarios in your head that had nothing to do with
reality? Yet you believe in everything your mind says and take it for the
truth. If you’re in a bad mood, you get tangled up in a train of negative
thoughts and allow them to bring you down. You let your mind take control. And
all you need to do, is recognize what your mind is doing and say ‘Whoa, I’m not
really going that way, thank you very much!’ All our feelings are reflections
of our thoughts. Everything starts in the mind. Sadness, anger, depression,
joy, happiness. You’re not sad because somebody insulted you, you only become
sad when you start thinking about it – ‘Why did they do that? How could they? I
certainly didn’t deserve that!’ And the more you dwell in it, the more sadness
and anger it creates. The event is already in the past, so it’s not causing you
any pain. Your thoughts are. And that’s what meditation is all about –
observing your mind and learning to disconnect from it, learning to say ‘no’
when it creates worries and insecurities. It doesn’t mean escaping from
problems and ignoring them, it’s about being capable of seeing things clearly
and dealing with them more efficiently, without unnecessary stress and
worrying.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
This
is something I'd known and practiced for a while now. Whenever I feel
anxious, sad or angry, I straight away ask myself ‘Right, what was I thinking?
Why am I feeling like this?’ and then look back at my thoughts and realize
where it all came from. It doesn’t necessarily mean that the feeling will
disappear straight away. Sometimes it takes a bit of time. And it’s not about
trying to stop yourself from feeling that way – all you can do is accept it.
But once you know the patterns of your mind, things start changing. You realize
that worrying does not solve any problems, it can only blur your vision and
prevent you from seeing things as they are. Objective observation of your mind
allows you to disconnect from it, step back and see what it’s doing – and that’s
what makes the difference between being a master of your mind and being its
slave. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Knowing
all this made things easier for me. A lot of people who didn’t know much about
meditation and its purpose struggled to follow the strict rules and accept the
teachings as they doubted they could benefit from it all and didn’t understand
where it would take them. The battle in their minds was much harder. At least I
was aware of it all, which meant that I could focus on putting that knowledge
into practice, as that’s a whole different thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">All the thoughts going through my
head – and there seemed to have been even more than the day before – made me
think I must have been crazy. Mental. I felt like I was going INSANE! I
had absolutely no control of whatever was going on in my head! The bird flew
wherever it wanted to, with no order or purpose, not really paying any
attention to its owner. But I was determined to tame it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">There was still pain in my hips, but
it was definitely better than the day before. The last session in the afternoon
was still the hardest, but there were no tears this time, just frustration with
myself and waiting for it all to end. </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I thought of it as progress as I lay
in bed that evening. ‘The second day is over. You’ve got eight more days to
go,’ said Goenka from the TV screen earlier that day. Eight more days. ‘I’ll
have a nice cup of coffee when I go out,’ I thought to myself. ‘And a massive
piece of chocolate cake!’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 3<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Like a leaf blown by
the wind<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">I’d thought getting up at 4 am would get
easier. It didn’t. I was still feeling grumpy when the bell rang and the thought
of staying in bed crossed my mind. I didn’t let it linger, got up, brushed my
teeth, threw a blanket over my shoulders and made my way to the meditation hall.
Day three. Apparently, it was a tough
one. Or so I’d heard. Lots of people leave. Some people had left already. I hadn’t
seen the young French girl who I’d met at the registration office for a bit.
Later that day, I checked<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> and her bed was empty and all
her stuff was gone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I started developing little routines
– folding things in a certain way, always putting my shoes in the same place on
the shoe rack, sitting in the same place in the dining hall – in the corner by
the wall, isolated from the rest of the people. Each movement, each step I took
seemed slower. Brushing my teeth would take around 10 minutes. I was usually
the last one to finish my food. I was becoming much more aware of
everything around, noticing things I hadn’t seen before. But there were no
profound realisations, no past experiences or events that I’d find to be
weighing me down. I heard people often got that. Unpleasant childhood memories,
resentment or anger towards certain people that you haven’t quite managed to
let go of, deaths of people you loved you haven’t dealt with… deeply rooted and
hidden things that suddenly come up to the surface. Why weren’t mine coming up?
There must be some there, right? So I started searching my mind. In my head, I
probably went through every relationship, every unpleasant childhood memory,
every sad event I could remember. Fortunately, by the afternoon, I realised
what I was doing. I was looking for things and trying to analyze them. I was
letting my mind take control again, letting it create illusions. That wasn’t
what it was all about. No craving, no expectations. It should all happen
naturally, only then can it be my own experience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I’ve
always been weary of letting my mind create illusions. It’s easy. I’ve met a
lot of people talking about how open their chakras were and how close they were
to getting enlightened. And I knew they had no idea. They believed in things without really feeling them, accepted other people’s experiences as their own. I
remember one of the students on my first teacher training course who said to our teacher: ‘
I find it really hard to believe in all those chakras, nadis and prana.’ ‘Don’t
believe in it,’ the teacher replied. ‘Never believe. Feel it. Experience it.
And then you’ll know. There’s no need to believe.’ His words really resonated
with me. I promised myself to always experience things and never accept blind
beliefs. You can call me a sceptic. But at least I know that whatever I say and
whatever I teach, comes deep from my heart. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Although I was raised as a Catholic
and went to church every Sunday until I was about sixteen, I never felt
anything there. Church was a place to hang out with friends. To dress up to. I
went there because others did and because my parents expected me to go. I sat
through the masses, sang hymns, said prayers. And never felt anything, never
experienced anything that would prove that it was all real. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">So I stopped going. But I didn’t
become an atheist. I always knew there was more than just mind and matter. I
just had no idea where to find it. All I knew was that I wouldn’t accept any
blind beliefs, I would have to feel it, touch it. When I first started getting
deeper into yoga philosophy and Buddhist ideas, I knew that was exactly what I
was looking for. Everything is inside you, everything comes from within. God
means truth and if you explore yourself, you’ll find it. Everything should
happen at the experiential level, in its own time, exactly when it’s meant to.
And it did. Concepts that were first impossible to understand, like
non-attachment, letting go of desires and expectations, disconnecting from your
mind, slowly started making sense. There was no effort required, no discussions
or persuasion. At some point it was just perfectly clear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">And that’s what I liked about the
technique we were being taught. Nobody was telling us what we should experience
and how we should feel. It was completely pure and universal and could be
practiced by a person of any religion. There were no dogmas, no rituals, no
requirement to convert or label yourself. All we were being taught were three
things – shila, samadhi and panna. Shila meant morality and we were asked to
observe pretty basic moral rules – like no stealing or killing. That was the
base for everything else. Could you imagine what would happen if every religion
focused on that rather than all its rituals? The world would be a better place,
that’s for sure. Samadhi meant concentration, mastery of the mind. Who wouldn’t
want to become a master of their mind, to see things clearly, without their
mind’s interference? And panna meant wisdom, insight that purifies the mind.
Removing deeply rooted patterns and habits of the mind. That was it. That was
all we were being taught. And the technique to achieve Samadhi and panna was
very simple – observing yourself and sensations in your body and realizing that
nothing in the world is permanent. Pain comes and goes, pleasant feelings come
and go. And all you can do is accept it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">So, having realized that I’m being
influenced by other people’s experiences, I vowed to lose all expectations of
what should happen. I would do exactly what I was told – we were asked to
narrow the area below the nose and the upper lip and observe the sensations
there. My mind still wandered away, but every time I caught myself thinking,
I’d let the thoughts drift away and come back to observing my breath. I was
definitely getting a tiny bit better at it. But then the pain hit me. It moved
from the hips to the neck and upper back. I couldn’t stand it and couldn’t feel
any other sensations. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">In the last afternoon session we
were given Vipassana. Apparently, so far we had been practicing Anapana
meditation. We'd been sharpening our minds to notice sensations on a really
small area in order to now be able to see them on the whole body. As we were
given instructions on how to scan our bodies for sensations, the pain came back
to my right hip and became so sharp that I was flooded with tears again. How
am I supposed to observe my body if all I can feel is pain? Throbbing,
unbearable, intense, burning pain. I couldn’t disconnect from it.</span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I felt
like I was missing</span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">out – we were finally
being taught the real technique and I was just sat there, crying and feeling
sorry for myself. When the gong went off, I buried my head in my knees and
waited for a few minutes until most people had left the room. I went outside
and lay down on a concrete bench, basking in the setting sun. It was warm and
soothing. Above my head I noticed an old, crinkled, brown leaf surrounded by
green buds. It looked like it was going to fall any second. I watched it for a
few minutes, waiting for it to fall. The wind blew it in all possible directions,
but somehow it just hang on there. I stayed there for about an hour, staring at
the leaf, expecting it to drift away with the wind, but it never did. I thought
I was a bit like that leaf – desperately trying to hang on. And I wasn’t
going to give up. ‘Pain is in your mind,’ I kept saying to myself. ‘It will go
down. Or I’ll learn to get disconnect from it. There’s no other way.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I went to the next session more
determined than ever. As soon as I sat down on my pillow, I noticed something
wasn’t quite right. I realized it had been moved forward. G2 </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">had disappeared. I noticed a few other people
weren’t there either and felt a bit like I was in the ‘Blair Witch Project’
movie. People kept going missing and I had no idea what had happened to them. I
supposed the wind must have blown their leaves of the tree.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">I breathed slowly and focused on
sensations in my body. There was a little pain, but I could feel other things
as well this time. They were very faint and gentle, but they were definitely
there. ‘I’ll be fine. Nothing is permanent,’ I kept repeating to myself like a
mantra. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">In the evening discourse, I did a
quick scan to see who was still there. I thought the lady in the pink fleece,
the one who said she was there to reach enlightenment, would have left by the
end of day one or two, but to my surprise, she was still there. She couldn’t
really sit still for more than a few minutes and kept wandering to the back of
the room all the time. At some point, I saw her laying down on the stairs. The
teacher didn’t notice. I wondered how much longer she’d last. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">Having wrapped myself tightly in a
duvet that evening, I felt a little sense of achievement. I was still there. I
didn’t give up. I won this battle. But I knew the war wasn’t over yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">To be continued</span></div>
</div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-914482635385034182014-04-16T03:43:00.003-07:002014-05-27T01:27:35.108-07:00My Vipassana Experience - Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">My Vipassana Experience - Part One<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Be at least as interested in what
goes on inside you as what happens outside. If you get the inside right, the
outside will fall into place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Eckhart Tolle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s a surgery on your brain. Except
that you are the surgeon. And there’s no anesthesia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">So, be prepared for pain. Lots of
pain. Every possible kind of pain – physical and mental, subtle and extreme. Be
prepared for emotional outbreaks, frustration, anger, sadness, joy and every
other imaginable feeling and reaction. Even if you think you’re a perfectly
balanced person. And then learn to disconnect from it all and accept it.
Because everything is impermanent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">I first heard the word ‘Vipassana’
when I travelled to India for the first time. I read about it in the guidebook.
10-day silent meditation? No talking? No eye-contact? No reading or writing?
Sitting still for 10 hours per day? Uhmmmmm… No, thank you. I couldn’t imagine
doing that even for a day! I Iove being around people. I love chatting,
laughing and joking. Ten days without looking at anybody? But I can’t even help
grinning at random people in the streets! No, that’s not for me, I thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">But then
after I moved to India to follow my passion of yoga and teach full time, things
started changing. My views on life, values, beliefs, relationships with people…
and the idea of withdrawing myself from the outside world and turning inwards
to grow and find answers seemed more and more appealing. I looked at courses on
numerous occasions over the last few years and each time something wasn’t right
– the dates didn’t work, something else came up, I couldn’t take time off work,
the course was fully booked… I took it as a sign. I wasn’t ready. And then my
Indian visa was running out this year and I had to go to Nepal to get a new
one. I wanted to use these few weeks off for self-development, I felt like I
needed some time for myself. I checked the dates at Dhamma Shringa in
Kathmandu. My visa run out on March 13th. The course started on March 14th. And
the application process was still open! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">I didn’t
think twice – I filled in the application form straight away and waited
impatiently for the reply. A few days later I found a confirmation letter in my
inbox. I was officially enrolled on the course! I took a deep breath. I knew it
wasn’t going to be easy. Was I really ready for it? I’ve been doing yoga for
over ten years now. But my meditation practice was all over the place. It was
always easy to make excuses and skip it at the end of my asana practice. My
hips have always been tight and I couldn’t sit in lotus for more than a few
minutes. I quickly pushed all these doubts away. I am doing it. There’s no
going back now. Something told me it was the right thing to do and the right
moment. And a perfect opportunity to get established in my meditation practice.
Clear my head. And just see what happens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">And here I
am now, on the day of completing the course, in a tiny little village at the
footsteps of the Himalayas boasting spectacular views over the highest peaks
of the world, completely overwhelmed by the experience, trying to process
everything that happened. I feel like I’ve got at least three books of stuff in
my head, so words are just pouring out of me as if somebody has just opened the
floodgates and all I want to do is sit in the sun and write. I want to remember
every moment, every feeling, every thought. But I know it’s impossible. When
you sit still in silence for 10 days, trying to disconnect from your mind,
there are millions of thoughts in your head. And you realise how little control
you’ve got over whatever is going on in your head. It’s not possible to
remember it all. I will, however, try to give a fair account on everything that
happened in my mind and body, day by day. With all ups and downs. Some thoughts
I remember appearing in my head and emotions and feelings accompanying them. If
you’re considering doing it, bear mind that each person goes through a
different path and it is important to remember that this is my, very personal,
experience. So, as soon as you finish reading this, forget about it and make
room for your own, leaving all your expectations behind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">DAY 0<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">I woke up in the morning feeling a
mixture of excitement and anxiety. ‘I’m really doing this,’ I thought to
myself. I, who hadn’t really shut up for more than five minutes. Who can’t sit
still and has to keep on moving. Who loves going out and being with people. ‘Right,
I can do it,’ I had to repeat that to myself a few times before I believed it. I
packed all my stuff and went to have my last breakfast with my student and
friend, Jimena, and Bishnu, a Nepalese guy who we’d met through a mutual friend
and who had been looking after us since we arrived in Kathmandu. I ordered lots
of food, knowing that for the next ten days I’ll be living on very simple meals
– morning breakfast, 11 am lunch and only some fruit and tea in the afternoon.
After that my friends walked me to the registration centre, where I handed in
the confirmation letter, and was given a few forms to fill in and asked for my
passport. I gave the worker a photocopy and explained that the original was at
the Indian embassy as I was waiting for my visa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> ‘Madam,
it’s not possible, we need your passport. This is an official requirement,’ he
replied politely, but firmly, and asked me to follow him to the main office
room, where he explained the situation to another guy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> ‘Madam,
not possible,’ I heard again and all sorts of thoughts appeared in my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> ‘What
do you mean it’s not possible? Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? Please,
I’ve been planning to do this for a long time. I really want to take the
course,’ I pleaded. I couldn’t believe this was happening. ‘I’m going to get on
that course even if I have to sit here for hours and beg them. I’ll cry if have
to. Or find Goenka’s phone number. Well, he’s dead now, so that wouldn’t really
help much, would it. But isn’t the main purpose of Vipassana to help people?
Seriously, they can’t turn me away for some stupid, bureaucratic reasons!’ I thought to myself. I knew that if I gave
up, I’d probably never do it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> ‘Please,
I came to Nepal specifically to take the course.’ Well, kind of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> ‘Wow,
you’re really determined,’ I turned round as I heard a male voice speaking with
an American accent behind my back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> ‘Yup.
There’s no way they’ll be getting rid of me now,’ I replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> I
noticed that the registration guy was making a phone call. When he put the
phone down, he smiled at me softly and said: ‘Madam, have you got a receipt
from the embassy?’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"> ‘Uhmmmmm,
no, not really. I gave the passport to the travel agent and he’s supposed to
sort it out,’ I explained.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘Can you
get the receipt?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">I asked
him to wait for a few minutes and went to look for Bishnu, who phoned the
travel agent and found out that my passport hadn’t been submitted yet, so I
could pick it up. Having returned to the registration worker, I asked if it was
enough if I just showed them the original and gave it back to the travel agent.
He agreed. Bishnu run to get my passport and I sat down to fill in all the
forms. I took a deep breath and realized how much I wanted to do it. For the
first time there were no doubts in my head. I completed all the forms, read the
code of conduct and chatted to Jimena as we waited for Bishnu to come back. The
rest of the registration process went smoothly – my Nepalese friend came back
within the next half an hour, I showed my passport to the dhamma worker, and
then handed it back to Bishnu. I took another deep breath, thanked my friends
for all their help and waved them goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">A few
minutes later, we were led to a medium-sized room for the orientation. I sat
down quietly at the front and had a quick look around. Most people were locals,
only about twenty percent were foreigners. A short, skinny man with glasses
appeared and asked us why we were there. Nobody said anything. He asked again
and having not received any reply, he got agitated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘What, you
don’t know why you’re here?’ Nobody seemed to have known what kind of answer he
was waiting for. Clearly, we were there to take a Vipassana course, but I’m
sure everybody had their own, personal reasons. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘To reach
enlightenment,’ said a chubby lady, probably in her fifties. She was wearing a
pink fleece and had dark, permed hair. For some reason, I thought she was
Russian.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">I smiled.
To reach enlightenment. Good luck with that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">The
teacher ignored her. ‘You are here to take a 10-day Vipassana course.’ Oh,
that’s what he wanted. All right. ‘Not three days. Not six days. Ten days. If
you don’t think you can do this, you still have time to change your mind.’ The
room remained silent. Nobody moved, so he started explaining the schedule. Wake
up call at 4 am. Meditation starts at 4.30. Two hours at dusk, three in the
morning, four in the afternoon and another hour in the evening, followed by
teacher’s discourse. Lights out at 9.30 pm. I took another deep breath. 4 am!
That’s more or less when I go to bed on a Saturday night! Is that really
necessary? I mean, wouldn’t 6 am be early enough? Maybe they won’t notice if I
stay in bed for the first session!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> The
teacher proceeded to explaining the rules. The main one seemed to be what they
called “Noble Silence”. Not just silence. NOBLE silence. Apparently, that means
silence of body, speech and mind. So, not only keeping your mouth shut, but
avoiding any other form of communication – gestures, writing notes,
sign language, making eye contact, etc. No yoga or other physical exercise. I
sighed quietly. I hadn’t gone that long without yoga for years now. No reading
or writing. Apparently, that’s a distraction. And there should be absolutely no
distractions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> After
the orientation, minibuses took us to Dhamma Shringa, located around 30 minutes
ride from the city centre, at the entrance to the Shivapuri National Park. I
was asked to deposit all my valuables, electronic devices, any reading or
writing materials, food, and phone. I found it hard to give them my new iPhone.
I’d only got it a couple of weeks before, hadn’t even had time to download all
the apps! But I knew that ten days without Internet would do me good. I was
aware of the fact that I wasted too much time on facebook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"> One
of the servers showed me to my accommodation, a dormitory room with around 20
beds, divided into small compartments separated with a thin curtain. Each
compartment featured two beds with a rock-hard mattress, little pillow, duvet,
and a bedside table. I was pretty happy about the duvet – I’d only brought a
thin blanket with me and was a bit worried about being cold at night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
After
a light meal we were taken into the discourse room, where we watched a video of
Goenka explaining the meditation technique we were going to use for the next
three days. Apparently, all we had to do was to observe our breath. Sounds
easy, right? Well, it wasn’t, as I found out about an hour later when we
gathered for our evening group sitting. ‘Have I sorted everything out? All my
flights and train tickets? Shit, I forgot to throw the cake out of the fridge.
Will I get my visa on time? What will be the first thing I eat when I go out?’
I hadn’t even started properly yet and I was already thinking about finishing.
That wasn’t a good sign. I couldn’t concentrate for more than thirty seconds.
My hips hurt, my neck and back were sore and I had to move every few minutes.
An hour seemed like an awfully long time! How would I be able to survive ten
the next day? ‘Do not think, do not think, breathe!’ I repeated to myself. One
small step at a time. Stay in the present. When the gong signaled the end of
the session, my legs were numb. As I lay in bed that evening, I kept saying to
myself that everything was going to be just fine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
To be continued</div>
</div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-18787599529800975762013-05-24T15:18:00.000-07:002013-05-24T15:18:02.803-07:00Cheers to All Mums<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tomorrow is
Mother’s Day in Poland and for the past few days I’ve been thinking about the
right present. What would she really want? She’d probably be the happiest if I
settled down, got married and had kids, but since that’s not going to happen
anytime soon, I need to think of an alternative gift.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But
Mother’s Day is not only about presents and flowers. It’s also about recognising
and appreciating what they’ve given us. Who they are. It’s about being grateful
for their unconditional, selfless love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’ve been
through a lot. And although I’m not a massive fan of telling<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tearful stories of how tough my life has been
(because it hasn’t, really, and each harsh moment has probably taught me more
than all the good ones combined), her illness five years back was possibly the
biggest challenge we had to face. She got admitted to hospital with what looked
like a flu and turned out to be a bad case of meningitis. Three weeks of
waiting for her to regain consciousness, with the doctors telling us to prepare
for the worst, seemed like eternity. And then six months of watching her learn
to move her legs, sit, and eventually walk again, appeared even longer. I am
sure I was more excited, happy and proud when she took her first step than she
was when I took mine!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her illness
was a wake-up call. It made me wonder whether I really appreciated what I had.
Made me stop wasting my time getting engaged in petty arguments and getting
frustrated about little things. I promised myself to take her on a trip if she
got through it (she’d never flown before and only been abroad a few times). And
I promised myself to try to be a better daughter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But, let’s
face it, I’m not an “easy” daughter to have and I’m aware of that. I’m not
around much these days. I listen to her opinions and value them, but I always
do my own thing anyway. I struggled for years to make her realise and accept
the fact that I will not live my life the way it is expected of me. I explained
time after time that she needs to lose her expectations and let me find and follow my
own path. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
the first time I told her I wanted to go to India. Alone. She went hysterical,
coming up with all sorts of excuses and eventually begging me not to go, at
least not on my own. When a friend of mine decided to join me, she calmed down
a bit. The second time was much easier. Third time she didn’t say anything. Now
she doesn’t really ask “if” I’m going back. She asks “when”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hope I
kept my promise and I am a better daughter (I did keep the one about taking her
for a trip), because she has definitely learnt to be a better mum. At some
point, she let go of her expectations and understood that my life is about my
happiness, and that this happiness is more important than her need to have me close
by. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks for
always being there for me. Right, time for a drink, I’m getting too bloody
emotional! Cheers to all mums!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-63529415668531211542013-04-19T05:17:00.002-07:002013-04-19T05:22:36.963-07:00Why I do yoga<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many people have asked me why I do yoga and how it has influenced my
life. And I always struggle to find the right words to explain it. Nothing I
ever say seems to convey the full message. But I’ve recently started thinking,
if I was to point out one main thing that yoga gave me, what would it be?
Physical strength? Mental stability? Patience? OK, I give up, I don’t think
choosing one is possible. I’ll try with three. Here they are:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1)</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It makes me believe that the word
‘impossible’ is a state of mind. An opinion. It’s fear and worry. And, most
importantly, impossible is a challenge. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is pretty common for yoga
students to make excuses and claim that they can’t do certain asanas, because their
bodies are just “not built that way”. Their hands are too short for jump-backs
and jump-throughs and hips will just never open up. But then, completely
unexpectedly, they manage to do an asana they never thought they’d be able to
do. And all of a sudden everything seems to be “milega”.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As Confucius said, “When it is obvious that the
goals cannot be reached, don’t adjust the goals, adjust the action steps.” </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2)</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It makes me fearless. Well, let’s
say I’m still working on that, still have moments where my mind creates worries
about the future and when I struggle to stay in the present (particularly now,
after coming back to Europe and facing change of environment, friends, routine
and all that), but most times I know how to deal with it. Worrying does not
solve the problems of tomorrow, it only removes the joy of today. And most of
these “problems”, when you look at them carefully, are not problems at all. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“How do you do this?” a friend of mine has
asked me recently. “I take risks. I don’t want to waste my life thinking I
could have done something, but I let my fear stop me,” I replied. There are no
wrong decisions and even if they look bad at a certain moment in time, they
will always be good in the long run. They make us who we are and bring us where
we’re supposed to be.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3)</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It helps me be myself. Sounds easy?
It’s not. In the world where the society expects you to follow a certain
life scenario, many people end up trying to fit in, doing things they think they
should do, rather than the ones they want to do. Spending 8 hours per day doing
work they hate and being in relationships just because they are scared of being
alone. Yoga helps me unclutter my mind and see things objectively. It gives me
confidence to trust my choices and decisions. And it helps me look at myself
with my own eyes, not with the eyes of others. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yoga is the
most beautiful gift I have ever given to myself. And that’s why I want to give
it to other people. It takes time. Lots of time. You don’t need to be
physically fit. You don’t need to be flexible. But you need an open mind. You
need to be ready to change something. Ready to try things. And if you let
it, it will change your life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-40967008888139539262013-03-06T21:54:00.000-08:002013-03-06T21:54:39.725-08:00Cheers to India, Yoga and the Power of Now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This post
is going to be a bit more personal, so if you’re interested in what’s going on
in my life at the moment, keep on reading. If not, stop now before it gets too
late!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, I’ve
been in India for almost five months now. Five months! How did that happen? It
seems like the right time to give you a little overview of my time here. What
has changed? And what has remained the same? What did I learn? What was the
greatest challenge and how do I feel about coming back to Europe? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
when I got here in October. A bit overwhelmed, but excited about what life had
planned for me. I had to get used to things again – surviving on the cow-filled
roads, the heat, massive cockroaches and other insects, living in a small town
where everybody knows everything… <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember
driving around on my moped, looking at the lush green palm trees and watching
the sunset in a quiet, secluded spot atop a hill and thinking how lucky I was
to be here. Escaping the winter freeze and spending six months on the sunny
beaches of Goa doing what I’d loved and wanted to do for a long time. Could
life really get any better? Well, it could. And it did!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had no
expectations of what my time here should be like. I just wanted to enjoy every
minute of it, get my life back on track, regain balance and stability after a
sharp curve my life has taken. Leave the past behind, stop worrying about the
future and just allow myself to be in the present. And this was probably the
greatest challenge. I’ve known the theory for a long time. All that truly
matters is here and now. You’re not your body, you’re not your mind. All
negative emotions are just reflections of your thoughts, they all come from the
worries, insecurities and fear your mind has created. But knowing it and being
able to utilize this knowledge in real-life situations are two completely
different things. My biggest achievement over the past months is not all the
arm balances I’ve managed to do (although, I must admit, I’m pretty proud of
those!), but the awareness I developed through daily asana, pranayama and
meditation practice. Whenever I start feeling down, anxious or scared, I
straight away think: “Right, where did this come from, what was I thinking?”,
then look back on my thoughts and find out which ones have brought the
emotions. Sometimes the realisation is enough to stop the feeling completely,
other times it takes a bit longer, but in general it is the most powerful tool
I’ve ever discovered. Being able to look inside and notice what is going on and
why. It allows me to see things clearly and recognise what I am looking for in
life, work, relationships. And helps me to remain patient and calm while
waiting for it all to happen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"</span></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wow, you
HAVE changed”, said one of my friends a few weeks ago when we were watching the
sunset, drinking wine and having one of those “meaningful conversations”. Yes,
I have. My mum has told me that as well when we spoke on Skype a while ago. She
said she couldn’t take her eyes off me because I looked so healthy, glowing and
happy. And that’s the best thing that can happen to a mum, especially when her
child has been so far away for so long.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But at the
same time, I’m still the same. I still love a good party, a drink and dancing
till dawn. I have an occasional cigarette when I feel like it. I didn’t go all
vegan or raw and although I try to eat healthy food, I would indulge myself
with a pizza, ice cream or a chocolate fondant if that’s what my body is
craving. I don’t talk about opening my chakras and connecting with my
inner-self all the time and I often enjoy the company of people who have
nothing to do with yoga much more than those who can’t really talk about
anything else. I just live my life the way I want, not caring what other people
think, following my dreams and passions and sharing them with others. Because
all the barriers are always in our minds and if we really want something, we’ll
find a way to make it happen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And how do
I feel about coming back to Europe? I’m pretty excited, I must admit! The
thought of seeing my family and friends puts a big grin on my face! I’ve
managed to stay in touch with people I really care for through skype, facebook
and e-mails and I can’t wait to see them! Some of my friends have had babies
who I’ve seen on Skype and/or on photographs and would love to see in real
life. I know it won’t be easy to get used to life in Europe again. It will
probably shake my world and balance a little. But I know how to deal with it
and I am open to whatever future brings. I’m ready to take risks and listen to
myself. Because it’s true that once you get the inside right, the outside will
fall into place. So, cheers to India, yoga and the power of now! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7420582986993411033.post-34107299304333424192013-03-04T00:44:00.000-08:002013-03-04T00:44:44.250-08:00How to Avoid Getting Frustrated on and off the Mat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>How to Avoid
Getting Frustrated on and off the Mat<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></o:p></span><br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have
recently seen many students getting frustrated because they can’t get into a
pose, especially in Ashtanga self-practice classes. Why is it not happening?
I’ve been working on it so hard for so long! It’s easy to fall into this trap.
After all, we’re all achievers. We’ve been taught that it’s the results that
matter. And we bring our expectations and desires to the mat. “By the end of
the month I want to be able to bind in Marichyasana D”. “Tomorrow I’ll do a
headstand for 20 minutes”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What we
tend to forget is that we don't use our body to get into a pose. We use a pose
to get into the body. Yoga is a journey. And being able to do a pose is not a
destination. Nor is inability to do it a stopover. Go through your journey with
maximum awareness. Slowly. Carefully. Look through the window and admire the
landscape, rather than pass absentmindedly, waiting for the train to stop. Accept
everything that happens during your practice with humbleness and patience. Yoga
chitta vritti nirodha. Yoga is the end of the mind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s only
when you free yourself from your desires and expectations, when you leave your
ego behind and become an impartial observer, that yoga begins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’re
probably thinking: so what, I should not want to improve? I should not
challenge myself? Of course you should. Getting better will build your focus,
give you confidence, bring awareness. But it’s all about HOW you try to improve.
How you let your mind and ego take control and get attached to the desire to
progress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But how do
we avoid this trap? What can we do to steer clear of the feeling of resentment
and irritation?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whenever
you come onto the mat, ask yourself why you’re there. Maybe you’ve never asked
yourself that question <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before, yet you
roll your mat out every day and put your toes together in samasthiti. You go
through all the movements. What is it that you’re looking for? Being able to do
a headstand? Or is it much more than that? Perhaps health? Stillness? Balance?
Clarity of mind? Strength?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the
reason, once you remember it while you’re trying to do the pose that just isn’t
happening, you will not get frustrated. You’ll know how insignificant it is.
You’ll learn to respect your body and treat it as a tool to achieve stability
rather than let it be the source of disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This also
applies in everyday life. Observe your thoughts and don’t let them take
control. It’s you who’s in charge and you can steer them in any direction you
want. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">So, j</span>ust drop your expectations and enjoy the ride.
Every minute of it. And things will happen at their own pace, just when they
are meant to happen. Now that’s a promise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
MAGS Yogahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07813613720238908127noreply@blogger.com0