O voo foi surreal. Saímos atrasadissimos no avião que seria certamente o mais velho da historia da aviação comercial, sentados nos estofos mais coçados e rodeados pelos plásticos mais amarelecidos que já vimos.
Quanto á tripulação...enfim quase não lhes pusemos a vista em cima pois estavam sempre escondidos atrás de uma cortininha sebosa que os ocultava na galley longe dos nossos olhares "indiscretos". Saíam só quando era estritamente necessário fazendo todos os procedimentos de forma mecânica sem deixar escapar um sorrisinho pelo canto da boca, não fosse algum passageiro ganhar confiança para pedir alguma coisa.
E depois voltavam rápidamente á galley, puxando a bela da cortina nas suas costas como se o pano sarrabeco os protegesse de nós, os reles perseguidores.
Mas o mais bizarro foi mesmo o " intermediate stop" que fizemos em Agra. O avião aterrou, sairam metade dos passageiros e a outra metade seguiu viagem para Khajuraho qual paragem de autocarro. Durante este intervalo entrou uma catrefa de militares e pessoal da companhia, também destituidos de sorrisos, para verificar tudo antes de levantarmos voo novamente. Penso que isto é uma prática comum em muito locais por esse mundo fora...mas nós, tugas ingénuos, nunca tínhamos visto.
Mas adiante: lá chegámos a Khajuraho sabe Deus como.
Soube-nos muito bem aterrar numa zona rural, nos limites da selva do estado de Madhya Pradesh e poder respirar fundo depois da azáfama de Delhi e Varanasi.
Tínhamos inclusivamente optado por ficar duas noites nesta pequena localidade para podermos descansar pois de seguida iriamos partir de carro para um longa jornada pelo Rajastão.
E se em Varanasi temíamos que as miúdas ficassem impressionadas pelo bizarro, então em Khajuraho tínhamos medo que ficassem chocadas pelo perverso.
Afinal de contas o pequeno vilarejo é sobejamente conhecido pelos seus famosos templos de temática erótica alusivos ao Tantra e ao Kama Sutra.
Já no complexo dos templos foi muito interessante compreender as diferenças entre as várias esculturas distinguindo as que eram imagem de Tantra das que ilustravam cenas do Kama sutra, muito embora aos olhos das crianças fossem tudo obscenidades causadoras de risotas envergonhadas.
O Tantra é , de forma resumida, um conjunto de ensinamentos e técnicas que permitem ao indivíduo atingir a iluminação. Segundo esta filosofia, a sexualidade pode ser utilizada para despertar a Kundalini, a energia cósmica que se encontra adormecida na base da coluna de cada um, e que ao ser estimulada percorre os chacras ao longo da coluna expandindo a consciência.
Daí que nas esculturas com cenas tântricas surgem varias personagens, entre elas um professor de Tantra, enquanto que as do Kamasutra contemplam apenas um casal.
Lá fomos tentando explicar isto ás miúdas tentando fugir á temática mais obscena da coisa. Mas definitivamente não fomos nada bem sucedidos. Ah e tal...crenças de antigamente...blá blá blá... Tantra é isto e aquilo, iluminação, energia, consciência e muita conversa... e ainda assim, depois de uma infinidade de teorias não conseguimos evitar nada no que respeita a risadinhas e falsos pudores.
As miúdas continuaram a espreitar entre os dedos com ares de quem chama os pais irresponsáveis á razão: "ó mãe! eu não posso ver isto!"
E nós tivemos que dar razão, quando de repente nos apareceu pela frente uma escultura maravilhosa que recria uma cena de sexo entre um cavalo e um homem. Despertar a Kundalini do cavalo talvez? Enfim...Tantra e Kama Sutra á parte, nós temos uma teoria para explicar a causa do aparecimento destes templos: estes gajos eram uns grandes malucos!
Se por um lado isso ajuda a manter a aura do local, por outro lado os poucos turistas que chegam são literalmente atacados pelos vendedores que tentam impingir tudo o que puderem de modo a garantir algum sustento ás famílias.
Temos que admitir que é desagradável sentirmo-nos sempre pressionados pelos locais, mas se ao invés de fugir tentarmos trocar dois dedos de conversa com a população vamos ficar rendidos á sua simpatia e compreender a sua atitude.
Eles próprios reconhecem que são insistentes mas dizem não o poder evitar sob pena de as suas famílias ficarem sem comer. E fazem tudo para nós agradar, para conversar e saber um pouco mais sobre nós, mesmo sem dinheiro em troca.
No tempo que dispendemos em Khajuraho é claro que fomos ver os templos, que são maravilhosos e sem dúvida valem a viagem. Mas o que nos conquistou foram as pessoas.
Numa ocasião um homem que nos acompanhava lado a lado a meter conversa foi contando o seu dia a dia e das suas experiências pela Europa. No seu inglês misturado com espanhol foi- nos conquistando.
Em certo momento apontou para as medalhas que as minhas filhas traziam ao pescoço admirando as imagens.
- They wear them because we are christians and the image in the medals is Maria, the mother of Jesus.-respondi.
- yes. And we are hindus. But first of all we are all humans.
Emudeci.Foi a melhor resposta que podia ter dado num diálogo que ficou só por ali, pois eu fiquei sem palavras para continuar a conversa.
Mais tarde o Luis, praticante de trail running, resolveu fazer um pequeno treino ao entardecer, seguindo pela berma da estrada que circunda o hotel.
Claro que pelo caminho foi sendo abordado por locais que se aproximavam curiosos. Um deles em particular seguiu- o de mota todo o percurso, mantendo-se lado a lado para poder conversar pelo caminho.
Após se apresentar pediu- lhe delicadamente se podíamos visitar a sua loja no dia seguinte e assim conseguir vender qualquer coisa.
E é claro que o Luis respondeu afirmativamente na tentativa de despachar mais um vendedor insistente.
Claro que pelo caminho foi sendo abordado por locais que se aproximavam curiosos. Um deles em particular seguiu- o de mota todo o percurso, mantendo-se lado a lado para poder conversar pelo caminho.
Após se apresentar pediu- lhe delicadamente se podíamos visitar a sua loja no dia seguinte e assim conseguir vender qualquer coisa.
E é claro que o Luis respondeu afirmativamente na tentativa de despachar mais um vendedor insistente.
Mas no dia seguinte á saída dos templos lá estava ele á espera. Chamou o Luis pelo nome e perguntou se sempre iria á sua loja. O Luis respondeu que só poderia no dia seguinte sabendo á partida que deixaríamos Khajuraho pela manhã. Ele assentiu e recuou educadamente. Não insistiu como seria de esperar.
Ficámos apreensivos pela falta de insistencia. Desarmou-nos.
Na verdade não era disso que estávamos á espera. E no vazio do momento que se criou , no momento em que ele se afasta respeitando a nossa decisão em vez de insistir como todos os outros, ficou o espaço para nos culparmos da nossa decisão egoísta.
Ficámos apreensivos pela falta de insistencia. Desarmou-nos.
Na verdade não era disso que estávamos á espera. E no vazio do momento que se criou , no momento em que ele se afasta respeitando a nossa decisão em vez de insistir como todos os outros, ficou o espaço para nos culparmos da nossa decisão egoísta.
Entrámos no táxi de consciência pesada. Tão pesada que depois de ligar o motor e iniciar a marcha atrás acabámos por pedir ao motorista para parar novamente e fomos ter com o vendedor. Fomos ver a sua loja. E Ele ficou radiante.
Nao pediu nunca para comprarmos nada. E de facto nada nos interessava. Mas acabámos por escolher duas
Nao pediu nunca para comprarmos nada. E de facto nada nos interessava. Mas acabámos por escolher duas
pequenas pulseirinhas e uma medalha com inscrições tibetana alusivas aos elementos do universo.
Olhou então para as malas de sementes de rudraksha que trazíamos ao pescoço e perguntou se fazíamos yoga, ao que respondi afirmativamente.
Olhou então para as malas de sementes de rudraksha que trazíamos ao pescoço e perguntou se fazíamos yoga, ao que respondi afirmativamente.
Dito isto convidou-nos para irmos com ele á sua aula no dia seguinte. Pela fresca. Pelas 6 da manhã.
Arrastamos as crianças ensonadas até ao portão do hotel ás 5.45 da manhã. Esperava-nos o nosso amigo num tuctuc que nos levou a casa do seu mestre de yoga nos limites do vilarejo.
Era uma casa modesta com algumas vacas á porta e um simples letreiro alusivo á pratica que se podia ler á entrada.
Entrámos na sala de chão de cimento e cumprimentámos o mestre que nos esperava sentado em postura de lotus num palanque no fundo.
E ali, num cobertor estendido no cimento frio, fomos seguindo as instruções do mestre numa aula com tantas diferenças do ocidente e ainda assim com tantas semelhanças.
Ásana atrás de ásana, ensinamento após ensinamento chegámos por fim ao pranayama, ou técnicas de respiração para controlo do prana, a energia vital.
Após treinarmos algumas técnicas convidou-me a aproximar-me dele para compreender como ele fazia a Nadi Shodhan Pranayama, a respiração alternada em que se inspira e expira por cada narina separadamente tapando uma das narinas.
Coloquei a minha mão próximo do seu nariz para sentir o ar a entrar e a sair e qual não é o meu espanto quando comprovo que o mestre conseguia respirar alternadamente por uma narina de cada vez sem que precisasse tapar o nariz.
Olhei para ele que mantinha o ar impavido e sereno. Sem um vislumbre do esforço, sem qualquer movimento muscular da face que pudesse demonstrar dificuldade no que estava a fazer.
Mantinha-se em lotus de olhos fechados como que em meditação profunda e o ar simplesmente fluía dessa forma.
Ao contrário de nós que torcíamos o nariz em mil caretas na tentativa de o imitar e acabámos por ter sempre de tapar uma ou outra narina.
Voltámos ao hotel intrigados com toda esta aula tão simples e tão mística. Em tão pouco tempo que durou a aula, tomámos uma tão grande consciência do pouco que sabemos sobre yoga. Tanto para aprender e tanto ainda por aprender.
E não vale a pena ter pressa pois por muito que treinemos posturas, o yoga é muito mais que ásanas perfeitos. Como se costuma dizer: o importante não é baixarmo-nos e tocar nos dedos dos pés. O importante é o que aprendemos no caminho até lá abaixo.
O caminho.
"Yoga is the journey of the self, through the self , to the self" ( in Bhagavad Gita).
********************************************************************************************************************************
The next day we left again to the airport. Our flight was from Air India towards Khajuraho.
This flight was surreal.we left very late on a plane that would certainly be the oldest on commercial aviation history. we in the most seedy upholstery surrounded by the most yellowing plastic we've ever seen.
As for the crew ... well, we hardly saw them because they were always hidden behind a greasy curtain that hid the galley away from our "indiscreet" eyes. They came out only when it was absolutely necessary, did all the procedures mechanically, without letting out a smile by the side of their mouth, so no one could be confident enough to ask for something.
And then they quickly returned to the galley, pulling the beautiful curtain on their back as if it could protect them from us, the pursuers.
But the most bizarre was the "intermediate stop" we did in Agra. The plane landed, half of the passengers left it, and the other half continued the trip to Khajuraho. Seemed like a bus stop. Meanwhile, a group of military and company personnel entered (also devoid of smiles) and checked everything before we raise flight again. I think this is a common practice in many places throughout the world ... however we had never seen before.
Anyway...We reached Khajuraho, God knows how!
It felt really good reaching a rural area by the limits of Madhya Pradesh jungle . We finally could slow down after the hustle and bustle of Delhi and Varanasi.
We even opted to stay for two nights in this small town in order to rest. Moreover, we would leave Khajuraho by car after these two days for a long journey through Rajasthan.
And if in Varanasi we feared that the girls would be impressed by the bizarre, then at Khajuraho were afraid that they would be to shocked by the obscene.
After all, this small village is well known for its famous temples with the erotic scenes of Tantra and Kama Sutra.
When we reached in the temples it was very interesting to understand the differences between the various sculptures that distinguish Tantra sculptures from the Kama Sutra ones, although for the children eyes they all showed obscenities and caused embarrassed sniggers.
Tantra is the study of teachings and techniques that allow the individual attaining enlightenment. According to this philosophy, sexuality can be used to awaken the Kundalini, the cosmic energy that lies dormant at the base of the column. It's believed that after awakening this energy will go along the spine through the chakras and will expand consciousness.
So, in the sculptures of Tantric scenes we can see more than two persons, including a teacher of Tantra, while in the Kamasutra sculptures there is only a couple.
We tried to explain this to the girls, and avoid the most obscene thing. But definitely we didnt suceed. We told them about ancient practices, blah blah blah ... Tantra is this and that, enlightiment, energy, consciousness and a lot of speech ... and yet, after a multitude of theories, we could not avoid the giggles.
The girls continued peeking between his fingers looking us like irresponsible parents and saying "Muuuummmm! I'm a kid! i can not see this!"
And we had to agree, when suddenly appeared in front of us a wonderful sculpture that recreates a sex scene between a horse and a man. Awakening the horse's Kundalini , perhaps? Anyway ... besides the Tantra and Kama Sutra theory about this temples, we also have our theory to explain the cause of the appearance of these sculptures: these guys were just crazy!
Khajuraho is a very small town and although it has some tourism already, is still not a very common destination.
That keeps the aura of the place, but on the other hand, the few tourists who come are literally attacked by vendors trying to sell all they can to ensure a livelihood to their families.
We have to admit it's unpleasant to feel always pressured by locals, but if we try to chat a litle bit with them we'll be rendered to them and understand their attitude.
They recognize the insistence but they also explain that's the only way they have to make sure their family will eat something at the end of the day. And when you spend some time with them they will do everything to please you, to know more about you and your way of life, even without money in return.
In our time in Khajuraho of course we saw and loved the temples. They are wonderful and definitely worth the trip. But what made us love this place even more was the people.
On one occasion a man who we met was trying to make a conversation telling about his daily life and his experiences in Europe. In his English mixed with Spanish pointed to the medals that my daughters had on their necklaces and asked about the images they represented.
- They wear Them because we are christians and the image in the medals is Mary, the mother of Jesus.- i answered.
- Yes. And we are Hindus. But first of all we are all humans.
No more words. And it was the best answer he could have given. I felt speechless to continue the conversation.
Later Luis, running trail practitioner, decided to do a little workout in the evening, following the side of the road that surrounds the hotel.
Almost immediatly, a curious local aproached him. He followed Luis the entire route on his motorcycle, staying side by side to be able to chat along the way.
After presenting himself he gently asked if we could visit his store the next day so he could try to sell something.
And of course Luis answered positively in an attempt to get rid of another pushy salesman.
But the next day at the exit of the temples, there he was waiting. he called Luis by his name and asked if he ever would go to his shop. Luis said we would only be able to goon the next day. Although we knew already that we woul leave Khajuraho morning. He stepped back politely. Did not insist.
This lack of insistence disarmed us.
Actually it was not what we expected. And in the emptiness of the moment that has been created by the time he departed and respected our decision rather than insisting like everyone else, there was enough space for us to blame about our selfish decision.
We entered the cab feeling guilty. So guilty that after starting the engine we ended up asking the driver to stop again. We went to the shop. And te vendor smiled.
He never insisted for anythinyg. And indeed nothing interested us. But we ended up choosing two small bracelets and a tiny medal with Tibetan inscriptions. But he was happy just because we spent some time visiting his store.
Suddenly he looked at the rudraksha seed necklace that we had on our neck and asked if we practiced yoga, to which I replied affirmatively.
Then he invited us to go with him to his class the next day. Early in the morning. By 6am.
We drag our sleepy children till the gate of the hotel at 5:45 in the morning. Our new friend was waiting for us outside the hotel with a tuctuc. He led us to the house of his yoga teacher in the village limits.
It was a modest house with some cows at the door and a simple sign announcing the practice at the entrance.
We entered the cement floor room and greeted the master who was already expecting us while he was sitting in lotus posture on a platform .
And there, over a blanket lying on the cold cement, we followed the instructionsof this yoga lesson. So many differences from the West, yet so many similarities.
Asana after asana, teaching after teaching we came finally to pranayama, or the breathing techniques to control of prana, the vital energy.
After we train some techniques the teacher invited me to approach him to understand how he usually does Nadi Shodhan Pranayama, alternating breath, breathing in and out of each nostril separately plugging one nostril.
I put my hand near his nose to feel the air in and out and then i realized that the teacher was breathing alternately through one nostril at a time without needing to cover the nose.
I looked at him and he was still calm and serene. Without a glimpse of effort, without any muscular movement of the face. Nothing showed difficulty on what he was doing.
He just remained in lotus, with his eyes closed as if in deep meditation, and the air just flowed that way.
So different from us. We tried to do the same but we just kept twisting our nose instead. We ended up having to always cover one or other nostril.
After this we returned to the hotel intrigued by this whole lesson. It was so simple and so mystical. In such a short time that lasted the class, we realized of how much we still need to learn about yoga.
And it is not worth to hurry just training postures because yoga is much more than perfect asanas. As someone said: yoga is not about touching your toes. It's about what you learn on the way down.
The way.
"Yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self" (in the Bhagavad Gita).
Era uma casa modesta com algumas vacas á porta e um simples letreiro alusivo á pratica que se podia ler á entrada.
Entrámos na sala de chão de cimento e cumprimentámos o mestre que nos esperava sentado em postura de lotus num palanque no fundo.
E ali, num cobertor estendido no cimento frio, fomos seguindo as instruções do mestre numa aula com tantas diferenças do ocidente e ainda assim com tantas semelhanças.Ásana atrás de ásana, ensinamento após ensinamento chegámos por fim ao pranayama, ou técnicas de respiração para controlo do prana, a energia vital.
Após treinarmos algumas técnicas convidou-me a aproximar-me dele para compreender como ele fazia a Nadi Shodhan Pranayama, a respiração alternada em que se inspira e expira por cada narina separadamente tapando uma das narinas.
Coloquei a minha mão próximo do seu nariz para sentir o ar a entrar e a sair e qual não é o meu espanto quando comprovo que o mestre conseguia respirar alternadamente por uma narina de cada vez sem que precisasse tapar o nariz.
Olhei para ele que mantinha o ar impavido e sereno. Sem um vislumbre do esforço, sem qualquer movimento muscular da face que pudesse demonstrar dificuldade no que estava a fazer.
Mantinha-se em lotus de olhos fechados como que em meditação profunda e o ar simplesmente fluía dessa forma.
Ao contrário de nós que torcíamos o nariz em mil caretas na tentativa de o imitar e acabámos por ter sempre de tapar uma ou outra narina.
Voltámos ao hotel intrigados com toda esta aula tão simples e tão mística. Em tão pouco tempo que durou a aula, tomámos uma tão grande consciência do pouco que sabemos sobre yoga. Tanto para aprender e tanto ainda por aprender.
E não vale a pena ter pressa pois por muito que treinemos posturas, o yoga é muito mais que ásanas perfeitos. Como se costuma dizer: o importante não é baixarmo-nos e tocar nos dedos dos pés. O importante é o que aprendemos no caminho até lá abaixo.
O caminho.
********************************************************************************************************************************
The next day we left again to the airport. Our flight was from Air India towards Khajuraho.
This flight was surreal.we left very late on a plane that would certainly be the oldest on commercial aviation history. we in the most seedy upholstery surrounded by the most yellowing plastic we've ever seen.
As for the crew ... well, we hardly saw them because they were always hidden behind a greasy curtain that hid the galley away from our "indiscreet" eyes. They came out only when it was absolutely necessary, did all the procedures mechanically, without letting out a smile by the side of their mouth, so no one could be confident enough to ask for something.
And then they quickly returned to the galley, pulling the beautiful curtain on their back as if it could protect them from us, the pursuers.
But the most bizarre was the "intermediate stop" we did in Agra. The plane landed, half of the passengers left it, and the other half continued the trip to Khajuraho. Seemed like a bus stop. Meanwhile, a group of military and company personnel entered (also devoid of smiles) and checked everything before we raise flight again. I think this is a common practice in many places throughout the world ... however we had never seen before.
Anyway...We reached Khajuraho, God knows how!
It felt really good reaching a rural area by the limits of Madhya Pradesh jungle . We finally could slow down after the hustle and bustle of Delhi and Varanasi.
We even opted to stay for two nights in this small town in order to rest. Moreover, we would leave Khajuraho by car after these two days for a long journey through Rajasthan.
And if in Varanasi we feared that the girls would be impressed by the bizarre, then at Khajuraho were afraid that they would be to shocked by the obscene.
After all, this small village is well known for its famous temples with the erotic scenes of Tantra and Kama Sutra.
When we reached in the temples it was very interesting to understand the differences between the various sculptures that distinguish Tantra sculptures from the Kama Sutra ones, although for the children eyes they all showed obscenities and caused embarrassed sniggers.
Tantra is the study of teachings and techniques that allow the individual attaining enlightenment. According to this philosophy, sexuality can be used to awaken the Kundalini, the cosmic energy that lies dormant at the base of the column. It's believed that after awakening this energy will go along the spine through the chakras and will expand consciousness.
So, in the sculptures of Tantric scenes we can see more than two persons, including a teacher of Tantra, while in the Kamasutra sculptures there is only a couple.
We tried to explain this to the girls, and avoid the most obscene thing. But definitely we didnt suceed. We told them about ancient practices, blah blah blah ... Tantra is this and that, enlightiment, energy, consciousness and a lot of speech ... and yet, after a multitude of theories, we could not avoid the giggles.
The girls continued peeking between his fingers looking us like irresponsible parents and saying "Muuuummmm! I'm a kid! i can not see this!"
And we had to agree, when suddenly appeared in front of us a wonderful sculpture that recreates a sex scene between a horse and a man. Awakening the horse's Kundalini , perhaps? Anyway ... besides the Tantra and Kama Sutra theory about this temples, we also have our theory to explain the cause of the appearance of these sculptures: these guys were just crazy!
Khajuraho is a very small town and although it has some tourism already, is still not a very common destination.
That keeps the aura of the place, but on the other hand, the few tourists who come are literally attacked by vendors trying to sell all they can to ensure a livelihood to their families.
We have to admit it's unpleasant to feel always pressured by locals, but if we try to chat a litle bit with them we'll be rendered to them and understand their attitude.
They recognize the insistence but they also explain that's the only way they have to make sure their family will eat something at the end of the day. And when you spend some time with them they will do everything to please you, to know more about you and your way of life, even without money in return.
In our time in Khajuraho of course we saw and loved the temples. They are wonderful and definitely worth the trip. But what made us love this place even more was the people.
On one occasion a man who we met was trying to make a conversation telling about his daily life and his experiences in Europe. In his English mixed with Spanish pointed to the medals that my daughters had on their necklaces and asked about the images they represented.
- They wear Them because we are christians and the image in the medals is Mary, the mother of Jesus.- i answered.
- Yes. And we are Hindus. But first of all we are all humans.
No more words. And it was the best answer he could have given. I felt speechless to continue the conversation.
Later Luis, running trail practitioner, decided to do a little workout in the evening, following the side of the road that surrounds the hotel.
Almost immediatly, a curious local aproached him. He followed Luis the entire route on his motorcycle, staying side by side to be able to chat along the way.
After presenting himself he gently asked if we could visit his store the next day so he could try to sell something.
And of course Luis answered positively in an attempt to get rid of another pushy salesman.
But the next day at the exit of the temples, there he was waiting. he called Luis by his name and asked if he ever would go to his shop. Luis said we would only be able to goon the next day. Although we knew already that we woul leave Khajuraho morning. He stepped back politely. Did not insist.
This lack of insistence disarmed us.
Actually it was not what we expected. And in the emptiness of the moment that has been created by the time he departed and respected our decision rather than insisting like everyone else, there was enough space for us to blame about our selfish decision.
We entered the cab feeling guilty. So guilty that after starting the engine we ended up asking the driver to stop again. We went to the shop. And te vendor smiled.
He never insisted for anythinyg. And indeed nothing interested us. But we ended up choosing two small bracelets and a tiny medal with Tibetan inscriptions. But he was happy just because we spent some time visiting his store.
Suddenly he looked at the rudraksha seed necklace that we had on our neck and asked if we practiced yoga, to which I replied affirmatively.
Then he invited us to go with him to his class the next day. Early in the morning. By 6am.We drag our sleepy children till the gate of the hotel at 5:45 in the morning. Our new friend was waiting for us outside the hotel with a tuctuc. He led us to the house of his yoga teacher in the village limits.
It was a modest house with some cows at the door and a simple sign announcing the practice at the entrance.
We entered the cement floor room and greeted the master who was already expecting us while he was sitting in lotus posture on a platform .
And there, over a blanket lying on the cold cement, we followed the instructionsof this yoga lesson. So many differences from the West, yet so many similarities.
Asana after asana, teaching after teaching we came finally to pranayama, or the breathing techniques to control of prana, the vital energy.
After we train some techniques the teacher invited me to approach him to understand how he usually does Nadi Shodhan Pranayama, alternating breath, breathing in and out of each nostril separately plugging one nostril.
I put my hand near his nose to feel the air in and out and then i realized that the teacher was breathing alternately through one nostril at a time without needing to cover the nose.
I looked at him and he was still calm and serene. Without a glimpse of effort, without any muscular movement of the face. Nothing showed difficulty on what he was doing.
He just remained in lotus, with his eyes closed as if in deep meditation, and the air just flowed that way.
So different from us. We tried to do the same but we just kept twisting our nose instead. We ended up having to always cover one or other nostril.
After this we returned to the hotel intrigued by this whole lesson. It was so simple and so mystical. In such a short time that lasted the class, we realized of how much we still need to learn about yoga.
And it is not worth to hurry just training postures because yoga is much more than perfect asanas. As someone said: yoga is not about touching your toes. It's about what you learn on the way down.
The way.
"Yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self" (in the Bhagavad Gita).
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário