It takes a certain amount of openness to take a yoga class for the first time. Granted, yoga is a little more widespread now than it was years ago and there are plenty of watered-down yoga classes to appeal to even the most close-minded of people. Still, trying something for the first time -- something that you're not clear about and don't know what to expect -- can be daunting.
I remember the first time I attended a Kundalini Yoga class. Everyone was wearing white (except for me -- I believe I was wearing black yoga pants and a brightly colored top), many wore head coverings, and the majority of men sported long beards. I felt...out of place. Actually, I felt like I had stumbled into a foreign country in which I knew none of the social mores and I feared that I was insulting...the teacher...my fellow students...Yogi Bhajan???
After an experience like that, many people would walk out the yoga door and never dare to peek -- much less step -- back in. I'm happy to say that I did step back in. That may have been my first Kundalini class, but it wasn't my last (and I've tried many different types of yoga classes since then). I did buy some white clothing for class (I skipped the head covering though) and I did a little research about Kunalini Yoga and its traditions. Perhaps I didn't agree with everything but I was certainly intrigued by it all.
I suppose you could say that I'm not easily intimidated. I've often said that I'll try anything once. I think it's a good idea to shake things up and have new experiences and try new things, for it keeps life fresh. Life is meant for living, and that means experiencing all sorts of things or even the same things in a different way. I've met quite a few interesting people this way and I've had some experiences that have been incredible. Some have been stranger than fiction and I wouldn't have believed them myself had I not experienced them firsthand. Yes, it's led to my leading one hell of a colorful life (although there have been times when I've asked myself, "How the heck did I get here?!?!?!").
I spent quite a few years where I was embroiled in my "spiritual pursuits." Oh, I thought I was so righteous and spiritual, but what I was really doing was denying myself life. I was so focused on the subtle that I ignored -- and did my very best to separate myself from -- the gross. I was oblivious to the fact that some of our greatest lessons and enlightened moments come from the gross. I can't tell you how many times ordinary, every day experiences have filled my heart with joy and how the people in my life -- especially the ones I've found to be the most difficult for me to deal with -- have been the best teachers. Yep, the gross ain't bad at all.
Luckily, I rebounded from that time. The even better news is that when I started to engage in life once again, it was more fully than before. That's when I started living full out. No more hiding under the cloak of spirituality. No more defining things so narrowly. I stepped over a lot of lines I had drawn in the sand and stopped looking at life as a roadblock to my spirituality. Instead, life became my spiritual practice.
Not all that long ago, I did something that made a lot of folks shiver in their boots. I left a situation that I'd invested a lot of time and energy into and started over. It's funny to me how people freak out about this, as though a certain number of years equates to "no turning back" or "everything is lost." I saw the years as what they were -- a learning experience (if it were an investment, then I'd say that got quite a return and then some). An experience that gave me more than I gave it. An experience that I'll never forget. Moving on didn't seem like giving up or being left with nothing or a scary place and time to start over. It felt like perfect timing. It felt right. It felt like that very first Kundalini class -- a whole new experience that would open my mind and lead to some pretty wonderful things.
The other day I read this interesting article in The Times -- Friends of a Certain Age: Why Is it So Hard to Make Friends Over 30? It's funny timing, as lately I've also hearing a lot of single folks complaining about being unable to meet someone special because "it's so hard." I don't buy it. I know, I know -- I'm a total freak who just doesn't get it. It's interesting to me -- we have online dating, we have MeetUp groups and all sorts of other things built to help us connect. So then, why is this a problem? Just the other day, I was talking to a woman who said that the city in which I live caters more to young married people and their families and that it's hard to meet men. I found the comment interesting, as I had been asked out twice in one week.
No, no, I'm not some sort of man magnet and I'm not engaging in some sort of Law of Attraction practice and I'm not Super Model Yogi/Tantrika Goddess. I'm just regular ole me. The difference is that I engage life. I try new things -- even the ones that make me uncomfortable. I follow my passions (I just started tennis lessons). I live. I do things by myself rather than waiting for others. I smile at and talk to people. It's really pretty simple. Or, at least, it's simple to me because I've been on the other side of this.
No, this isn't a post about dating (I actually turned down the two offers I got, as I don't mind being single). It's a post about connection. Connection happens when you engage in life and open to it. Perhaps that's why I recently moved to a new place where I know just about no one -- because I don't buy into the whole "it's hard to meet people" (and by people I mean friends as well as romantic partners). It can actually be easy to connect with people...if you let it be.
Maybe life is like that very first Kundalini class -- strange and beautiful in its own way waiting for you to engage in it even if you aren't quite sure you're comfortable with the whole thing.
Namaste!