Adventures in Yogaland presents: first-time meditation.

 By this point, I have been in yoga for over ten weeks.  I have learned to stretch and mastered some basic (and other not so basic) poses, many of which make me sore like I've hardly ever felt before (more on that latere).  I have, however, noticed a strength in my back and shoulders that wasn't there before.  Progress has been slow, but it is progress all the same.  I start to get an inkling of what it feels like to own my body; it is a strange feeling.

 After weeks of sweating it out with two surprisingly intense yoga teachers, I have learned to come to class prepared to work.  Today, however, is apparently different.  As my teacher sets herself to the side of the class instead of the front, she asks how many of us have meditated before.  There is a sprinkling of raised hands.  She asks how many have meditated for more than 10 minutes before.  Fewer hands this time.

 My hand was not raised either time.  Here's the thing: I'm not good at sitting still and being quiet.  The quieter I am physically, the louder my mind gets.  When I tried to meditate once in a former class, I couldn't even sit still and my thoughts raced to find a distraction of any sort.  I still remember how my body tensed so I was unbearably uncomfortable, thoughts of homework bombarded my brain, and I could feel the room get hot and stuffy. That last "meditation" only lasted 5 minutes and it was an utter failure.  Frankly, I was terrified of trying it again.

I apparently had no choice.  Today we were going to do extended meditation; apparently last time was only a warm-up.  I shuddered.

We start on our backs.  I am instructed to lie with my legs relaxed and focus on breathing in and out through my nose.  I feel the rise of my belly as I do so,  and the instant calm that comes with each exhalation.  "Maybe this won't be so bad" I thought.  Slowly, following my instructor's advice, I let my awareness flow to my thoughts.  The goal, she explains, is not to change them, but to note their state.  This is harder than it seems, because there is always a preconceived notion of what thoughts "should" be like in a certain situation.  I feel the tension that comes from homework that should have been done, tests the next week.  I let it be. 

I'm beginning to feel as if this meditation thing might work out for me after all.  Following the voice of my instructor, which now seems strangely disembodied, I let my awareness go to my body.  I assess the state of my feet, lets, up to my back and shoulders.  I go down my arms all the way to the fingers and back up, finishing with my neck and head.  I note any tension, where my body feels warm and cold, what parts seem more disconnected than others.  I have rarely connected with my body in this way: before, aches and pains were alien intruders.  Here, I accept them as belonging to my body.  I accept my body, for the time being anyway.  I let it be.

 I move on, settling my hand on my heart as the disembodied voice of my instructor tells me to. I feels its beat, note the rhythm and the speed.  I look deeper, letting my awareness settle on my emotional heart.  There is no sadness, anger, or particular joy there today.  I'm okay with that.  I let it be.

Lastly, I pull my awareness back and look at the big picture. My mental, physical, and emotional self are all noted.  This, says the instructor, is the beginning of yoga.  It is only with knowledge of your whole self that you can tailor a yoga exercise to meet your needs.  This is how you acheive balance.  It is with this knowledge that I slowly come out of my meditation: first introducing thoughts, then movements.  Class continues, then winds down.  I leave knowing that my experiment with yoga is transforming into a journey: one that will hopefully bring me even closer to my body, mind, and soul.  I feel like I've started that journey just now, and I can't wait to see where it takes me.