I find the physical movements of Hatha Yoga
to be graceful and magnificent. Witnessing someone going through the movements
of a vinyasa can be very beautiful and lissome, balletic, but there is an
internal aesthetic that`s perceptible to me as well. The more absorbed I am in
asana, the more apparent this becomes. There is a corporeal elegance that is imminent
in it and yet also transcendent as ever more subtle nuances are endlessly being
uncovered.
It is an internal and external adventure of
discovery: A previously inexperienced lengthening, a twist, ease, or a glimpse
of that which feels true and unencumbered. The travel is at a slow speed with
unpremeditated direction. There is also a feeling of liberation as
though all tethers have been cut, a busting out from the shackles of the
physical body. Yet paradoxically, a keener sense of body cognizance occurs, a
more intimate relationship with the body phenomena and a deeper familiarity, an
exploration with sentience. The longer one has practiced, the deeper the relationship
and the more effortless the expression. Yoga is transformative; ossification
evolving into malleability, effort surrendering to stillness. It’s wide open,
it`s focused. It’s liberating… but not as an escape from something, just pure
freedom.
There is also the possibility that yoga can
instill a speck of the unknown into the mundane, at least be a pathway to such
or even an answer to the larger existential questions. I’m not so sure about
that, but that’s a whole other discussion. Sometimes I think that the finality of settling on an answer
is limiting, staying with the question however leaves the door open for wider
potential of insight.
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