Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun...
here comes the sun...
and I say...
it's alright... ... ... ...

little darling
its been a long cold lonely winter

little darling
it seems like years since its been here

Here comes the sun...
here comes the sun...
and I say...
it's alright... ... ... ...

The sweet voice of George Harrison rouses me from a deep peaceful sleep. Instantly I smile, glad to be alive, glad that the sun is on its way, glad that my heart is opening so early in the morning.
I programmed Here Comes The Sun as my wake up alarm, but this song is definitely not an alarm!
It's the most simple, joyful, tender song ever written.

On long cold lonely winter mornings at 5.30am, I will often get to hear it at least three times before I finally get out of bed.
This morning, the alarm was on the other side of the room.
I open my sleepy eyes and listen to the whole song before it stops and goes to auto snooze.
I lay in bed, wide awake, aware of the joy it has implanted in my heart.
Ten minutes later, it plays again. I love this song, so I listen to the whole song again.
For the next ten minutes it replays in my head.

This was one of the songs my children played in the car last year when we drove to the Flinders Ranges for our first camping holiday together. The sweet memories come flooding back.

Another ten minutes go by and it plays again.
Finally I get up, walk across the room and turn it off.
Its 5.50am.

Putting on wooly warm clothes as fast as I can, I feed cat and dog, go to the toilet, wash face, brush teeth, and take dog for a walk in the crisp dark early morning.
I'm on the yoga mat just after 6.30am, which gives me about 40 minutes to play with.

Not feeling too bright or energetic today, I lay on my back and start with some knee-to-chest stretches to begin the painful process of opening my stiff early morning hips and lower back.
It becomes immediately clear that neither my body nor mind are in an Ashtanga mood. The heaviness of yesterday's emotional breakdown is still in my body, I feel a sharp burning behind my eyes, not from the tears, but from a more complex release of trauma related hormones into this area.

I marvel at how I can be so full of joy and love one day, then crash land into a messy quagmire of unresolved emotional turmoil the next. Death stirs up a powerful cocktail...

I spend the next 40 minutes just easing the emotional pain out of my body.
The lunges tunnel into my hip joints, the slow sun salutes gently and systematically open up all the other joints.
My hands find their way into reverse namaste for Prasaritta Padottanasana, and this intensifies the work on my legs - I play in the pose, adjusting the weight bearing under my soles, intensely curious to sense the different effects on my body as I shift the weight from the inner ball of the big toe to the outer heel and back again. Pressing on the ball gives an easy lift up the inner legs and activates the perineal energy; weight on the outer heels seems to stimulate the sacral energy.

Then the urge to do a few handstands - I wan't sure why at the time, but looking back it was obviously a subconscious need to induce the sensation of perfect balance, an example of how an action in the body brings about a parallel reaction in the mind. Deep yoga therapy.

Remembering that backbends counter depression (not that I'm depressed - this is preventative medicine!), I go for Ustrasana instead of Urdhva Dhanurasana today. I stay arched over for a while - it's glorious to blossom open the heart (here comes the sun...). While in the pose, I detect an annoying stiffness in my left front ankle that has arisen lately - it needs unclogging, so I sit in Virasana, then lay back into Supta Virasana to get the full front ankle stretch. When I come up my body wants to twist so I stay in Virasana and twist slowly and deliberately, sliding my navel around as if it has detached from my torso, twice on each side.
Ankle stiffness has disappeared.

After Dog Pose I do a Headstand for 20 breaths (another balancing pose). My equilibrium is returning. Grounding my forearms and almost lifting my head off the floor I twist to each side for Parsva Sirsasana, again swivelling my navel around, balancing and twisting deeply.

After strong coffee, and a half hour drive to work listening to Dead Can Dance Spiritchaser, I arrive at my parking spot just after 8.30am. Walking down the street to work in my lavender pink coat and black boots, I feel so weirdly disorientated.
Where am I going?
Who am I supposed to be today?
How old am I?
I need reprogramming to fit in.

Two birds swoop overhead and land in a nearly tree...
I say hello to a passing stranger...
Its Monday morning.

Iyengar Yoga with Buffy

At last, the Iyengar Week 31 - 35 sequence in its entirety tonight.

Again it was cold when I stepped onto the mat at 6.45pm.

A brisk set of sun salutes would have been the conventional warm up but my lumbar and hips were too cold and stiff to step or jump forward, so I did a very unconventional warm up - 4 minutes of skipping - a good old aerobic warm up that doesn't require much flexibility, but gets the breath and blood moving quickly and heats the body instantly.
After 10 minutes of preparation poses (Ardha Baddha Padma Paschimottanasana and Supta Padmasana) I officially started the sequence at 7pm.

The first problem I encountered was in Urdhva Padmasana (the lotus variation of Headstand). I'm sure I could have done this tonight if I hadn't left my thick socks on - my feet had no grip to manoeuver into Padmasana which left me stranded upside down in a half Padmasana and unable to go on to Parsva Urdhva Padmasana or Pindasana in Sirsasana on both sides. After finishing the Headstand variations my feet were warm enough to take off my socks, but it was too late then. But I'll know for next time.

The next ten problems I encountered were all caused by my dog: sitting into my back while I did all the Sarvangasana (Shoulderstand) variations, and getting under my legs during Halasana; then I couldn't drop from Sarvangasana into Setu Bandha or I would have squashed her - I had to roll out of Sarvangasana diagonally to avoid her then plonk her off the mat and do Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (and Eka Pada) from the floor.

She climbed on me whenever she could tonight, and she dropped litle toys and dog bones under me when I wasn't looking that stuck into me when I rolled out of poses. She even curled up on my calves during Ustrasana and tried to go to sleep. At times her solid body weight was useful on my thighs (she climbed up onto my thighs in Supta Virasana and gnawed on her bone, and again in Salabhasana which added 10 kilograms to the leg lift). Towards the end of the sequence, she took advantage of my comfy Baddha Konasana lap for a couple of minutes before she got tossed off yet again!

Despite Buffy's non-stop attention seeking, the practice was thorough.

I'm really enjoying this sequence now, its well designed, balancing backbends and forward bends, and its quite familiar. My neck loves the first part - it gets a muscular workout from holding the extended Headstand variations (8 minutes total tonight) then an extreme forward bend stretch in the extended Shoulderstand sequence (17 minutes tonight), followed by a good twist in Jatara Parvatasana, then a short rest during the abdominal poses before being fully liberated in Ustrasana, a pose that squeezes every last bit of tension out of my neck.

Dinner was a late one - 8.45pm. Then poor neglected Buffy finally got her long sniffing walk around the streets. I let her go as far as she wanted and simply followed her like a puppy.

Its late now and my alarm is set for 5.30am. But I'm looking forward to morning practice...

Perfect practice

I failed to get up at 5.30am for practice this morning.

To make up for this, I did an evening practice when I got home from work.

I started at 6.45pm and although I had the week 31 - 35 Light on Yoga sequence open in front of me, I knew I wouldn't be doing a by-the-book practice.

My room felt particuarly freezing tonight, and so did my body.

The Padmasana warm up pose seemed to exaggerate my stiffness so I abandoned all notions of getting into and early Padmasana in Headstand and just started the practice without any expectations...

Instead of all the Headstand variations, I just did a simple 50 breath Headstand, then 5 breaths on each side in the twisted variation...7 minutes in all.

After recovering in childs pose and dog pose, I did a Shoulderstand for 40 breaths, then Halasana, Parsva Halasana and Eka Pada Sarvangasana (one leg pointing straight up, the opposite leg lowers to the floor). Too cold and stiff for fancy variations tonight.

I can now sense the profound effect these inversions have on my physiology. Already I felt nourished and transformed. Any further poses would be simply icing on the cake.

Pressing on I lowered down from Shoulderstand keeping my legs up at 90 degrees then moved straight into the twisted Jatara Parvatasana, Supta Padangusthasana then the two Navasanas. Before tonight, I don't think I've ever touched my nose to my leg quite so easily in Supta Padangusthasana.

The wonderful thing about tonight's practice was I had no expectations and no goals.

There were no rules.

I was free to explore whatever I needed to do, free to wander off course.

And I did.

After the Navasanas, I moved into the next pose Ustrasana. My body still hadn't warmed up and it took some time to stretch it up and open into the backbend, but I so enjoyed the slow quiet journey into this pose, not pushing my body, or even trying to stretch it, but allowing it to open gently in its own time, and it did.

Virasana was sweet. I'm always surprised to find how askew my body is in some of the symmetrical poses. I notice it in small things - one hand sits on the knee slightly differently to the other hand (tension in one shoulder seems to cascade and spiral down the length of my right arm), one thigh is turned out more than the other so the front ankles don't sit evenly on the floor. I try to correct all the imbalances before laying back into Supta Virasana.

I put no time limit on poses tonight, so I don't know how long I was there before I arched up into Paryankasana. It was pure, sensual ecstasy. My upper back and neck rejoiced, my triceps stretched releasing my elbows towards the floor. I arched into a writhing fish, and breathed open every cell in my upper torso.

Going from this back bend into Janu Sirsasana was difficult. My body was still cold so I turned around and positioned my back close to the heater instead of my feet. My stiff lower back smiled as it soaked up the heat and I gently found my way into the twist of Janu Sirsasana. I stayed...and stayed...and closed my eyes...knowing that with each breath I was releasing and descending without any effort whatsoever. My focus here was on my extended leg, engaging the thigh and drawing up the inner leg seam to energise the root chakra. Another sensual pose that pulled me deeply into its folds. Ardha Baddha Padma Paschimottanasana was the final pose...and an anti climax that shot me back up to the surface.

This 40 minute practice fell way short of the Iyengar Week 31 - 35 sequence, but it was nothing short of perfect for tonight.

Six months on

Today is Monday 13th June 2011.

Mark died exactly 6 months ago on 13th December 2010.

I light candles by his photograph - little flickering flames, symbolising the fire of our love and our passion, a fire that led to his untimely death.

ely death.

Perhaps we were moths drawn to the intoxicating flame of love. Realms of magic opened up when we were in each others' arms, we'd found an eternal love that catapulted us to the precipice of our earthly existence.

Today I go for a wild and windy walk up in the mountains and contemplate the last 6 months from a higher perspective. The cataclysm of events has passed and my emotions have settled.

I don't feel the physical presence of Mark's spirit any more, yet he comes fully alive in my heart when I deliberately initiate contact to connect with his soul.

Heart to heart, soul to soul, these connections are real and they transcend space and time.

Top image: Mark at my front windows December 2010.

Bottom image: My front windows (with a new table) June 2011

My life has entered a new cycle.

I have a new job.

I am reigniting special friendships, and sweeping away the debris of inauthenticity.

My yoga practice is rapidly moving me into a new paradigm where presence is paramount and love suffuses every movement.

I greet the early mornings with new eyes, with a mystical tenderness in my heart and a life affirming embrace that carries me into the day.

And I believe a budding new romance may be setting my smouldering heart on fire again.

Sunday 12th June - Lily's birthday

My grand daughter Lily had her 7th birthday today.

I spent yesterday afternoon making her a pair of magic dragon wings.

She can fly now, and her dragon powers can move mountains.

My wizard powers have met their match.

The force is with her.

Return to Ashtanga

Today marked the day that I reclaimed an authentic Ashtanga practice.
I've been building up to this for a couple of months now.
Since starting my new job, I've been gradually setting up new habits, getting up earlier and earlier, rekindling the tapas of discipline.
I've been doing a semi-regular morning practice of sun salutes and some standing poses, occasionally finishing with a couple of backbends and inversions.
Not always a long practice, sometimes half an hour, sometimes one hour.
But it has radically increased my energy and my confidence, and helped to transform the apathy and sorrow I was carrying from Mark's death into a new joy for life.

Daily discipline is the flammable fuel of transformation - a combination of commitment and devotion sets our hearts on fire, it burns away mediochrity and propels us to rise like a phoenix and embody our ultimate dream.

So when I stepped onto the mat yesterday with the intention to do my first full primary series practice in over two years, I was excited to feel that it just might be possible, that one day soon, I may able to do this amazing practice fully and regularly again.

I resolved not to explore the poses too deeply, but instead just let the breath move me, staying a couple of degrees under simmering point, and keeping to 5 breaths in each pose.
Only twice did I have to stop when I couldn't remember the next pose in the sequence. But this was towards the end...it's been a long time since I went further than the seated forward bends.

Poses I hadn't done for a long time came as delightful surprises: Purvottanasana, Janu Sirsasana B and C, Marichyasana B, the uplifting balance of Upavista Konasana B, Urdhva Padmasana with hands supporting the knees...
The practice was amazing. Until I tried, I didn't realise I could still do so many of the poses.
After the finishing inversions I was fully cooked and the only option was a long, deep Savasana to settle all those bubbling juices down.

This is just the beginning...again.

The moth

Mark is still with me.

I lay in bed last night, the room held just short of total black darkness by the few rays of moonlight filtering through the top of my window.
As I lay motionless, listening to silence, a familiar other-worldly feeling descends upon me and begins to take over - my body begins to shimmer.

Mark is visiting again.

The shimmer intensifies, my energy field is rapidly altering.
Reminding myself to remain calm, I observe the change, willingly participating in whatever is happening, allowing myself to be taken...my cells begin to sparkle.
A million bubbles of joy flood through me, I smile and cry feeling his love, a love so intense that it allows him to traverse dimensions, to be with me. His energy field meshes with mine and my body is flooded with an ethereal energy tuning me up to a super-sonic frequency so we can be reunited in an other-worldly resonance.

I try to stay calm within the rapture, and from deep within my translucent heart I welcome him back and tell him how much I still love him. It is my timeless soul that is communicating with him, not the personality I have assumed in this lifetime.

He squeezes me tightly from the inside, feeling and sharing all my sadness, joy, grief, love, gratitude, wonder...

How can this be...am I imagining all this?
Is it a clever delusion I am fabricating and participating in to fill an emotional void?
Is the mind so powerful that it can create this kind of paranormal activity and virtual reality?

I lay in bed telling myself this is not a movie I'm watching, this is real life.
A real person died, a real person that I loved deeply and shared an extraordinary bond with, a human being who loved me so much that he drank himself to death over four desperate days in a traumatised emotional state of separation.

MARK DIED.

He moved from this lifetime and this reality to somewhere else.
And right now he is in an alternate reality, another dimension, and he exists in another form which my limited brain can not even imagine.

I lay in bed, vibrantly alive between parallel realities, experiencing Mark's presence, not as a separate entity in the room but as a highly charged vibrational energy that enters and fills me.

Again I ask myself...am I creating this, imagining this?

I ask for a sign from Mark. A sign that will prove beyond doubt that I'm not delusional.
I wait, in the dark, electrified, mystified, on the edge of either a breakthrough or a let down.
Am I mad to ask for proof? Does it even matter whether this experience is real or imagined?

Suddenly there is a faint tapping on my pillow.
It couldn't be the cat or I would feel movement of the paw steps.
The tapping turns to fluttering and a moth rises like a phoenix from the darkness. It came from nowhere. It flies around my head for an entire minute, batting its wings heavily in a mad flutter to find its way. I am stunned. I hope it doesn't crash land into my face.
The flurry and purr of its beating wings mirrors my heartbeat, my energy field, my longing...
Then all returns to a dark, eerie silence.

The moth has completely vanished.

What to make of that?
Can the disembodied manufacture such occurances? Do they have that power?

Being a natural skeptic I believe nothing until I experience it, and this may possibly prevent me from receiving the extraordinary messages and secrets that are all around me.
For many of us, the mantra is "Seeing is believing".
But then there's the other way: "Believing is seeing".
Perhaps we must first believe before we can see and experience the metaphysical, the supernatural, otherworldly beings, God....

Is Mark still here, still around me in some other form, some other dimension, some other vibrational field that I'm unable to comprehend?
More and more I believe that Mark exists in my heart, not as a memory but as an actual fragment of his eternal self through which he continues to connect with me.

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Remembering something about moths as omens of death, I googled the symbolism of this sweet, maligned little insect and found this today:

In superstition: A white moth is said to embody the soul of a loved one. White being the symbolic color of purity of the soul, and the embodiment comes from an ancient idea that the night (realm of the moth) is a dwelling place for souls (in terms of the Underworld or Otherworld).
http://www.symbolic-meanings.com/2008/04/09/symbolic-meaning-of-the-moth/

Some countrys believe that White Moths are souls of lost people seeking the way to heaven, Black Moths are evil omens, and if one flies into your face means that a letter is on the way to you.
http://www.electricscotland.com/poetry/redmond6.htm