Believing in things you can’t see

by blogasana on May 9, 2010

We did yoga blindfolded this morning.

It’s one of my favorite tricks. It instantly shifts the focus from how can I look more like that girl in this pose to holy crap I have to pay attention here or else I’ll fall over. Which is just a sneaky way to get into the experience of your body. To get into the feeling of Now.

There are many interesting side effects to this. I find my movement much more deliberate (did I mention holy crap I might fall over?). I love the play and shift in light and perception of space. It can also feel like a test of trust — that I’ll be supported, that I’ll find ground, that I’ll be safe.

Mmmm. My favorite kind of Yoga.

Try it. Probably not for your whole practice (unless you plan to just roll around and do supine and seated poses). Dog and low lunges are usually doable. High lunge and standing poses are good challenges to take slowly, stopping at vista points to acclimate and take it all in. Let me know what effects it has for you! Emotional? Physical? Other?

And as a post-blindfold bonus, notice the quality of light when the eyes do open. How do you receive shape and color and texture?Rather than reaching out for it, can you let it come to you. Any observations?

Finally, a poem about seeing, believing… and moms.

Nightvoice by D.F.Dozier, Jr.

Inching out of slumber, I heard voices,
no—just one voice, muffled and afar,
as if in conversation on the phone,
perhaps downstairs and through closed doors.
And yet it was familiar, kind and soft,
inquiring and rhythmic, chuckles here and there,
and then, I thought, I know it from somewhere,
it seemed so clear — My God! My mother’s
tender tones emerged. I’ve known
that voice since wombdom with my sister,
and then non-verbally till one or so,
bathed in warmth and comfort,
before specific words could clarify
the distant sounds that always seemed to soothe.
I found a higher ledge in my awakening,
and realized there was no voice at all,
but yet a sound — the “give” of give and take,
was soft and gentle, easy to confuse
with ancient dreams and memories in flux.
It was, I recognized, your breathing that I heard,
a trick of sound and nostrils, rate and tone.
Some thirty years gone by beyond her death,
you’ve channeled me her love with your sweet breath.

{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Diane May 10, 2010 at 3:34 am

Isn’t it a beautiful poem. I’ll tell Dave you read it in class today. Sorry I missed the blindfold!…xo


blogasana May 10, 2010 at 11:58 pm

@Diane – we missed you… I missed you. Looks like it was a wonderful day… daughters and lovely mother.


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