Revelations that feel rough as they rise.
Deep stirrings of invisibility that make themselves seen like oil on water.
Waves of discomfort and nausea that seem to only come in those moments where we feel a sense of embarrassment, or guilt, or shame...
Last month, I embarked on the first out of three immersive weeks of my Kundalini Yoga teacher training.
I won't try and capture that week in words just yet, and perhaps I never will, because they're sure to only fall short, and any attempt at wrapping the experience up in colourful vocabulary will dullen the way those days still sit in my heart.
When I studied and completed my Hatha Yoga training, I never had that biting urge to teach it; it never felt like an absolutely yes for me. It was a godsend to my personal practice and completely transformed the way I breathed, moved, and all-round generally approached yoga, but there was always a part of me who knew (or at least hoped) that it would stay that way – personal – which it has.
With Kundalini Yoga however, it has been very, very different. I ache to teach.
It'll truly be one of my greatest honours to share this form of yoga with the world, in whatever opportunities present themselves to me. To spread the teachings from a place of reverence and utmost respect for the lineage and the technology and the miracles that it brings.
But during that week last month, as we were wrapping up, I found myself do what so many do when they're about to leave their immersive experience and head back out into their real world. A deep sadness set in as I started second-guessing everything about my life.
I questioned whether certain aspects of my life where as important as I once thought they were. Certain relationships. Certain ways of being. Ways of communicating.
Mostly though, hogging this questioning bandwidth were my contemplations about my work:
"Am I satisfied with the way I'm serving in the world – and here's the really important part – despite what others may think or say about it...
Despite that there may be emails trickling into my inbox every day with some variation of 'Thank you' woven into them...
Despite the fact that those social media numbers continue to gracefully and gratefully climb..."
All of this curiosity culminated at what I'll refer to as the The Big Kahuna Question:
Do I want to be a teacher because I genuinely want the people I'm teaching to rise above me - to be more joyful, more successful, more at peace, than I am? Or, am I doing this to serve that part of me that just wants to be loved and adored and looked up to?
My friend, I did not like the answer that came to meet me in the face.
Embarrassment, guilt, shame. Hello.
And while it would seem that these unsavoury feelings and emotions could be warranted, or deserved, one of the key things that Kundalini Yoga is teaching me, is not to making anything wrong or bad.
Answers to questions like The Big Kahuna give us the very sacred opportunity to look closely at our shadow, to accept it, and then to elevate it through our thoughts, words and actions.
If I can identify that my Spiritual Ego has been running my show (consciously or unconsciously), finally, I get an opportunity to ask myself:
Is this acceptable? Is this the way I want to be living my life and sharing my message?
No, it's not acceptable.
Could it be possible that I in fact may want each and every person I reach and serve to a live a life that is more beautiful, bountiful and blissful than my own?
If I get really still, and breathe in what that might feel like, and imagine myself on my deathbed having had that as my WHY for life...
That feels really complete for me.
So, to anyone that reads my stuff,
or reaches out to me,
or takes my workshops.
For my clients both past, present and future,
and to every soul who will sit in front of me as I share the teachings of Kundalini Yoga,
I am not interested in being special in your eyes, or putting myself on a pedestal.
I want you to experience deeper fulfillment than I could ever imagine possible for myself.
I pray for your body and your wellness and vitality to far exceed the health of mine.
I am not concerned whether you love me or not, only whether I can help you or not.
Listen and take on board the words I say that resonate with you, but don't make the mistake of looking up to me.
Go forth and eclipse me.
Finally, I'm going to draw on a little extra strength from our angel Jess Ainscough, and finish with:
I'm not here to be liked. I'm not here to popular. I'm here to speak my truth.
May we continue collectively to unhook from each other and carry ourselves gracefully, without the need to be approved of or admired.
And on that note, please join me this Thursday March 19 as I lead the community sadhana at Centre For Life in Burleigh Heads (by donation). This will be my first time sitting in front of a class, and your presence will act as tremendous support as I begin this transition from student to teacher. It'll be wonderful to see some new faces to share these teachings with.
Centre For Life
1/8 Freemantle St
Burleigh Heads, Q 4220
Time: 4:30am - 7:00am (Please try and arrive at about 4:20am)
I'll be leading you through the Aquarian Age Sadhana, which includes:
Japji (Soul of the Soul): Approx. 25 minutes. You're welcome to read aloud with the words (which will be handed out), or you can simply meditate on the sounds.
Kundalini Kriya (this is where we move our bodies and use specific breath and mudras): Approx 1 hour.
Aquarian Age Mantras: Approx. 1 hour. Again, chant along with the help of the hand-out, or simply meditate on the sounds.
Please bring: A small monetary donation, a water bottle, perhaps a light cardigan or shawl, and an open mind.
Ensure that your phone is left in your car or switched onto airplane mode so we don't have any distractions. :)