It is intriguing to be writing about yoga, knowing that some of you reading this will be familiar with the practice, and that others will have no experience at all. But here goes anyway:
On arrival in the city of Hamilton I was clear that I was ready to take a break from teaching yoga. As I had begun to do more and more teaching, so output was becoming greater than input. I recognised that, as soon as I thought I understood or felt the benefits of something, I needed to tell others about it. Was this because I needed affirmation from others that it was right? Why the rush, why not have more time to really absorb it, to really know for myself?
So here was the opportunity. A new place, a chance to let go of any expectations of myself or of what I felt came from others. I decided to enrol for some classes, without saying that I had taught. This gave some valuable insights, but eventually felt unnecessarily deceptive. I declared my position and settled for two classes and a meditation group.
In early July the opportunity arose to attend a weekend on the shores of Lake Taupo, and I took it. The intention of the weekend was to explore the chakras, or energy centres, within the body. A large group of the participants including the main teachers had received their teaching through a lineage which goes through Swami Satyananda Saraswati back to Swami Sivananda Saraswati . This way of teaching is named Satyananda Yoga
I arrive at Tokaanu in the dark, clutching my mattress, bundles of bedding, and warm layers of clothing. It’s winter, remember, and those mountains up there have snow on them. Most of the people I first meet appear as bemused as I feel, but soon things become clearer. Being one of the last to arrive, all floor space in the two bedrooms and lounge is taken.
The accommodation has been described as marae style, this means; bring your bed and find a spot. Not to worry, say I, Rupert is only in the next village at a motel, I can always go there. No need to do that, comes the swift reply, you must stay here, and can go in the yoga room. It is not so warm, and the room will have to be cleared by 5am for the first session at 5.30am, but there’s more floor space, (and less potential snoring, think I!). Oh, and there are just 2 loos, 1 shower and 1 bath for the 25, or is it 30, participants. Dinner is about to be served, Rupert has left, so I drop my bundles where I am standing and head for the warmth of a lovely rustic kitchen, where delicious soup, rice and curries await....Wait a minute, forgot my bowl and spoon, so back to the bundles to hunt for them, found wrapped in some unmentionable item of clothing. Did someone mention comfort zones? Don’t think about it!
The first meal is as always on these occasions: the usual greetings and enquiries of each other, complicated only by the fact that this time a larger than usual number of people seem to have both a spiritual and a usual name to learn. The food is wonderful, everything full of flavour. It must now be time for a soothing cup of tea, but where is the kettle? The water coming through the tap is so hot it must be almost boiling. Not sure though, and some are drinking cool water from the other tap, so a quick sip and off to the first session.
The main house is wonderfully warm with radiators fed from the thermal spring in the grounds, and there is also a roaring open fire. The yoga room, however, still has rather limited electric heating and lighting. It’s a windy night and there are draughts. (Tokaanu, by the way, means windy rock). We bundle ourselves up, candles and reassuring pictures giving added warmth, and we settle into our first meditative practice. After this there is the essential administration; the water is drinkable; the programme posted around the place will probably be changed; if the bathroom facilites won’t stretch sufficiently, this being a thermal village, there are public and private baths, showers and loos just down the road; and after the next session of Kirtan, silence, or mona, will be observed until after breakfast.
Kirtan is a call and response style of singing, similar to chanting, in that a limited number of phrases are repeated many times, with increasing intensity and with added improvised accompaniment from other mainly percussive instruments or with clapping, dancing etc, until it subsides again, leaving the mind refreshed and more still. Plenty of scope for all my musical conditionings and prejudices to raise their ugly heads here, which they obligingly do. Also potentially more scope for letting go.
Despite the silence, it is not difficult to make a bedtime cup of tea, the kettle having appeared on the stove.. I move my bundles into the yoga room, pump up the inflatable mattress, get layers under, around, and over the body, check the route to the loo, should it become necessary in the night, (which of course, it does), and snuggle up. To sleep… well, not exactly. Someone else arrives late and, having done battle with the stuck and noisy sliding door, settles into her space, and at midnight a refugee for the overcrowded and overheated main bedroom also moves in. There are some blessed souls who can sleep anywhere. I am not one of these; but it does has the advantage that getting up at 4.30am is not a problem if you are awake anyway!
After the two hour session of gentle stretches and breathing practices, there is a breakfast of warm sweet porridge and lots of fresh fruit…and tea…, and then we are into karma yoga. In other words, the housework. This house was bought three years ago and is being gradually restored and improved by one man, so there were plenty of helpful tasks to be done.
Some of us weeded the vegetable patch, taking care not to remove anything remotely edible; others stacked wood; some swept, polished and scoured, and some erected the tepee.
We return to the yoga room for an open discussion on the chakras. Some are very clear about all this; some are very unclear; we are discussing something which does not actually exist but can only be sensed in the body; and words are a pretty useless tool for such things anyway. Not surprising therefore that a sense of confusion and uncertainty permeates the air.
Time to do something more practical. We sit, and are guided throught a meditative practice around the energy centres in the body. I am pretty tired, and my mind is racing with any number of conflicting thoughts and reactions, so it feels nigh on impossible to let go enough to experience anything.
After another cup of tea we go into groups for a feedback session. Some remain quiet, whilst others are more willing to express how they are responding so far to the weekend . I am in turmoil and quite ready to give up and go walking with Rupert. And my head aches… wait a minute, I don’t usually get headaches these days, and this one is not nice.
The day continues:
we paint and produce a mandala to be left at the centre, we explore further the use of sound to locate the centres. 
We eat the most wonderful food prepared by Sruti as he sings and dances to his favourite Cds in the kitchen. I am disturbed, as I have been unable to contact Rupert. “Has he returned from his walk ,or is he lost somewhere in the bush? “, my anxious inner voice is asking. And my head is really throbbing now After dinner, I make contact with Rupert, and we move our bundles into the tepee. There is a small fire burning, using clean manuka wood, ghee, sweet spices, and herbs; and we chant. As we are told that the next chant will be repeated 108 times, I think I sense a shudder through the person next to me. He has done only a little yoga before and certainly has never been on a retreat. His comfort zone is even further away than mine feels.
I am tempted occasionaly to wonder how far through the 108 we have got, and I do begin to count on my fingers in the last 30 or so, but on the whole I am able to let go and allow the vibrations to have their impact on the physical body, which of course, they do. I become aware of an increasingly tense pressure in the left side of my skull, and when the chanting stops? Well, no headache, of course… and for the sceptical amongst you,.. No paracetemol either!
Sleep is a little easier on the second night, the morning session is excellent, there is time for a walk to the lake and for a wonderfully soothing soak in the thermal spa. This is at the back of the house in a simple sauna style building. Washing up proves warmer than weeding and gives a chance to watch Sruti in the kitchen devising yet another tasty chutney to go with lunch. In the feedback session, it becomes clear that, for those who are able to allow it, yoga is working its mysterious magic. Eyes are brighter, people are clearer and calmer, and feeling refreshed and restored. A local Maori yoga teacher begins her yoga nidra, deep relaxation session, with the most beautiful and moving chanting of a karakia, or welcoming prayer. Her tribe is from this area, and this is the place where they traditionally assembled during the winter months for the warmth of the hot springs. After lunch we participate in the fire purification ceremony, Havan, in the tepee. Then, after a final meditation we are back in the car for the jouney home.
In the last few miles of the outward journey I began to sense a nervousness within me. You do put yourself through it, is Rupert‘s comment. So I have to ask, why? Coming out of one’s comfort zones is not easy, but can be done with a supportive network of people and with a powerful ancient practice underpinning the experience. It is really hard to let go of conditioning and expectations, but what that offers is a clearer, less cluttered platform, from which to see more clearly. Recognising one’s demons is not necessarily fun, but once recognised, they are more easily let go of. The secret is to allow the practice to work. It is great to read, write, discuss, reflect, but in the end it has to be known. And the only way to keep knowing is to keep practising.
Any questions, please use the comments box
The pictures to the right are from the yoga weekend in Tokaanu. Having uploaded them to flickr, I returned to my unpublished weblog entry, only to find that my keyboard skills had failed me. I had managed to lose the piece of writing I did today. I had previewed it and re-edited it , but, in bringing up flickr for the photos, had inadvertently closed the window without saving the entry. And I had been rather chuffed with that bit of writing, having taken a few hours to do it, so am feeling more than a little frustrated. A rather feeble attempt to rewrite late this evening has failed; perhaps I shall feel more inspired in the morning. Here's a picture of the lake to go on with:
Friday midday: Just returned home from the community garden, and getting ready to travel to Tokaanu on the southern coast of lake Taupo for a weekend of yoga. The theme is chakras, or energy centres. The centre is thermally heated, and we are advised to take swimming togs, as well as the usual gear. Staying in a marae style centre. Rupert not tempted by such experiences, so will be off walking in the area.
Thought some of you, especially family, might like to know where we are living now, so have done some quick shots around the house and uploaded them. We are very comfortable and feel fortunate to have found such a lovely home to rent.