6 January 2011

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

Wednesday 5 January 2011

Empty and quiet, that is the mood.

The grief stricken surges of emotion have receded back into their source and I am calm.

I look at Mark's photographs around the house...Who was he? What was that all about?
I still say good morning I love you to Mark through my favourite photo of him in the entrance hall every day, but I know he's moved on now, he doesn't hear me anymore. But the words help me recall and reignite the slowly dying love embers in my heart.

The alarm rouses me at 5.30am. I lay in bed for half and hour, wide awake, but in a dream.
I get up and walk the dog - she stops often, insisting on sitting stubbornly by the main road to imbibe the morning; she’s inhaling warm yeasty wafts from the bakery, she’s watching the early morning traffic, she’s listening to the birds, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, her dog acquaintences barking in far away streets...I have to wait for her to finish her morning meditation before we can move on and turn towards home.

Yoga practice is a shorter one - 45 minutes by the clock - 2 hours by my internal reckoning.
Time is such a relative experience - on that Sunday night, 24 hours after the police told me of Mark's death, I attended a gathering of his neighbours and close friends.
I remember it felt like 2 long weeks had gone by in those 24 hours.
Time warps are real in the same way our dreams are real. It’s just an altered consciousness, as valid as the one we consider ‘normal’.

Back to this morning's 45 minute yoga practice:
Surya Namaskar A and B
A few standing poses: Padahastasana, Padangusthasana, Trikonasanan, PV Trikonasanana, another long hold in Virabhadrasana 2, Prasaritta Padottanasana,
A few backbends: Salabhasana, Dhanurasana, Ustrasana, Urdhva Dhanurasana,
Twists: Knee to chest Twists, Janu Sirsasana,
Finishing poses: Paschimottanasana and Sirsasana.

Nothing special, just calm, quiet maintenance for body and soul.

This hole in my wounded heart will gradually get filled up with yoga practices, working days, family commitments and the mundane chores of daily life.

I want the hole to fill up with love.

Thursday 6 January 2011

The alarm goes off at 5.30am.
Heavy from last night's late dinner shared with my son, I have no impetus to get out of bed, no desire to enter and engage with the day.
I search, but can't find any reason to get up and do yoga.

Friday 7 January 2011

I get up at 6.30am, it's a warm, still morning.
Buffy doesn't want to go for a walk.

I lay down on my mat to start a practice, feeling too tender hearted to launch into sun salutes or standing poses. I start with some easy, gentle stretches.

Sadness is in my body. The emotion has a physical effect on my cellular energy, it’s hard to describe. I can feel the etheric body energy is slightly looser, less dense, less stable, less coherent, the atoms are more dispersed with reduced bonding between them. This may be where the term 'falling apart' comes from. That's exactly how it feels, as if in any moment my contained energy, my ability to ‘keep it all together’ will 'fall apart'.

That is when the tears start to flow.

Watching the process and observing these physical/energetic sensations is fascinating.
I'm exploring the effect of emotion on my physical/energetic body.
Hormones and chemicals are released into the body when we experience a flood of emotion, happiness or sadness, and they in turn effect our entire physiology. We are each a complex and beautiful human system.

Yoga practice is gentle:
Laying on my back I pull a knee to my chest and let the associated joints gently open.
Through Dog Pose I stretch space into my shoulder joints, my spine, my hamstrings, then gently begin to draw muscular energy through my entire body.
I step forward into to a much shorter Half Dog Pose, feet together, then lift one leg at a time and hold it up, pressing firmly BACK into the upper thigh of my standing leg, DOWN into the outer edge of the standing heel, and OUT through the ball of the airborne foot. This is a favourite pre-practice pose. Deep pelvic floor muscles have to be engaged to support my lower spine and to raise my leg higher. I rotate the raised leg hip forward, levelling my hips. I draw my lifted leg in towards centre, directly behind its hip and raise it higher. Coming out of this pose my heart is beating faster, evidence that the pose has challenged me.
Childs Pose, so simple, so comforting, it helps to stretch open the damaged facet joints in my lumbar and sacrum.
Handstand to the wall.
Then an 8 minute Headstand. For the final 5 breaths I press into my forearms, lift my head about one inch off the ground and hold the pose, my head still slightly supported at the back by the strong cup of my hands.
Ardha Baddha Padma Paschimottanasana.
I lay back onto a lengthwise block, it massages the muscles of my thoracic spine, alleviating little pockets of tension and opening up my ribcage. I bend up my legs preparing for Bridge Pose, then lift my pelvis up...the block is still under my spine and now the leading edge presses deeply across the muscles, the corners imitating a masseur's knuckles. There must be acupressure points here on the insides of my shoulderblades. I slide an inch or so up and down the block so the skin is pulled tight one way then the other.

I feel like my dog Buffy when she rolls over and swivels her back on the carpet.

And like Buffy, today I'm following my primal instincts and indulging in a more sensual yoga practice.
After all I am a human being, a creature of the earth.
I feel.
And I am as sensual as I am spiritual.


Sarah said...

you are a living experiment in being. i am so grateful that you are sharing these moments on the journey with me, through your words here.

i've been feeling like an experiment, myself. with the observer asleep a good bit of the time. have had resistance to putting words in my blog ...

greenfrog said...

"Sadness is in my body. The emotion has a physical effect on my cellular energy, it’s hard to describe. I can feel the etheric body energy is slightly looser, less dense, less stable, less coherent, the atoms are more dispersed with reduced bonding between them. This may be where the term 'falling apart' comes from."

This so well captures my memories of the effects of profound grief.

Is the instability threatening or spaciousness?