Yoga Crones are rockin’ mo-fo inspiration

Tags

Cora Wen, Genmaicha, Kali, Linda Sama, Magazine of Yoga, Yoga, Yoga Crones, yoga teaching

This post is a little shout out for two of my favourite yoginis in the Twitterdom/blogosphere, both of whom I hope to meet and study with IRL (in real life) at some point…

That’s right, Imma talkin’ ‘bout the take-no-prisoners, expansive and interesting Linda Sama and Cora Wen.

Both these lovely ladies identify as Yoga Crones – a sisterhood I’ll hopefully get to join one day. I see them as celebrating womanhood in a way that isn’t about having perfect hair and nails, but instead, knowing who they are and inhabiting themselves fully – body and mind.

The other cool thing about these bust-an-asana chicas is that The Magazine of Yoga has done interviews with them both – it’s one of the handful of online yoga magazines/journals I like reading. They are both fierce and fabulous, and not afraid to speak their truth!

Here’s a little more about these Yoga Crones…

Linda Sama

Linda and I have been blog buddies for a while, and we came *this close* to meeting in person only recently. Unfortunately the Bali retreat Linda was planning fell through. Bummer, that. Never mind – it’ll happen!

Also, Linda and I are Ladies of Kali – not a choice you get to make (kinda hard to explain that!), but having a Kali patroness membership card makes you one helluva interesting/fiery/madcap person to know!

Linda recently stopped blogging as much as she used to but with a little encouragement, she’ll hopefully get back in the game sooner rather than later.

I LOVE Linda.

Links: check out Linda’s blog, and read part 1 and part 2 of her Mag of Yoga interviews.

Linda’s interview talks about her Vinyasa Krama/KYM style of teaching, and how this involves slower but repetitive movements. This “different” style of yoga offers another experience of yoga that isn’t just about mastering arm balances and getting your asana kicked. Which works for me.

Cora Wen

I also LOVE Cora Wen. On my other Twitter account, Cora and I have recently been sharing our love for tea – especially green tea. She even shared her favourite brand of Genmaicha and HELLO, they have a store in my city! I’m endlessly grateful, even if I’m now a total Genmaicha addict. Oh well. 😉

The sharing of information about tea – that’s the kind of generosity and love you get from interacting with Cora, even if it’s only virtual and she couldn’t pick you out of a line up.

Cora is an avid Twitter user, sharing all kinds of yogic wisdom on the wire. I think she does it just because she enjoys sharing.

Links: Cora’s website, and part 1 and part 2 of her Mag of Yoga interviews.

I adore everything Cora has to say in her interview because as a woman it’s all very relatable. She’s clearly very present within her body, and makes no apologies for not having the typical uber-thin “yoga body” popularised in the media! As a yoga teacher, she’s instructional, inspirational and generous with her knowledge. I especially loved part two of the interview, where Cora describes her journey as a yogi from a type-A hardcore practitioner to something softer and far more encompassing.

Cora also describes how her teaching style has evolved and this is excellent for someone like me.

How reading these Yoga Crones helps me as a yogi and a teacher

A few weeks ago, the class I taught was just two people. Usually it’s busy-busy and perhaps the Easter break put a spanner in the works, who knows?

This never bothers me – I’m happy teaching to one or twenty people. And as it happened, I found myself having to break down something that I’ve always considered to be very simple – the full yogic breath.

Since I always encourage questions, I was happy when my of my students commented that it “feels weird” doing lower abdominal breathing. I wondered how many other people I’ve guided through this practice that have felt the same way: lower abdominal breathing is hard if you’re not accustomed to it.

So the class took a bit of a side-step as we spoke about one of the lesser known goals of yoga – to learn to sense your own body and energy. To develop sensitivity. We’re so used to using our bodies in certain ways only, and to gain sensitivity we need to practice. It’s that simple.

But then, it’s not so simple after all because developing that ability, via using your hands to help you sense what your body is doing – can lead to a greater capacity for awareness of physical and energetic sensation. And this is where yoga really begins to take off.

So we talked about that for a while and workshopped the breathing actions before moving on.

To me, that’s a class I’m glad to have taught. Like Cora, I see teaching yoga as an honour and a privilege. Like Linda, I’m not afraid to slow my classes down.

Sometimes I still can’t believe that it’s me up there, teaching people. And I know I’m so very lucky because for every class I teach, I am the student, too.

Anyway, I guess the point of this love-in is to direct you to Linda and Cora’s Mag of Yoga interviews and to point out how grateful I am to have connected with these awesome Yoga Crones via the interwebs.

To paraphrase Linda (quoting someone else, I think): if you don’t pass on the teachings, then you’re no better than a thief. And these ladies are Queens of Sharing. *hat tip* to you both!

~Svasti

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Motherless sod gets another clue

Tags

get a clue, Grief, hypothyroidism, Kali, misfiring hormones, Mother’s Day, mothering, Rage, raised by wolves, scrappy, self-mothering, self-nurturing, Shiva, stupidly low iron levels, yogi

This post is inspired by the turn of events since my last post (wow, I’ve learned a TRUCK-LOAD-LOT since then!), Rachel’s post on honesty and Christine’s post on self-mothering.

Full disclosure: technically I’m not really motherless given that my mamma is alive and kicking.

But sadly, her capacity for mothering never developed that well. The loving, giving, selfless put-my-kid-before-myself stuff isn’t really in her repertoire, and she’s emotionally unavailable in many ways. Sure, if I need money it (might) be given, but as for open arms to curl up in when my world is falling apart… not so much.

She’s too busy still dealing (or rather, not dealing) with a lifetime’s worth of her own grief and rage. In some ways, she’s still a seventeen year old girl having her child taken away from her and always will be. But she’s a motherless sod, too, having had a pretty poor example of a mother to call her own. So there’s no room for anyone else’s emotional needs to be addressed in my mother’s world. I’ve mostly accepted that these days…

But as a result I’ve been on my own in many ways for most of my life. A street urchin. Raised by wolves, I was. I really don’t know any better about lots of stuff.

I’m painfully aware of my lack of motherly nurturing, and have been for quite some time. My self-mothering skills are super-lame, although I’ll mother the heck out of my friends and loved ones. I’m more than happy to over-compensate in the outward direction but generally have little patience for my own needs.

Which makes sense really, since those needs were pretty much ignored as I went through endless mistakes in my teen years (some of which are documented on this blog).

However, it’s pretty difficult to turn that sort of street urchin-ness around. Why should I suddenly take up caring for myself when no one has in the past? I’ve survived this long as-is, so why should I change? Right?

But if like me, you’ve noticed all this and wanted to make a change… how does a semi-wild critter like me even begin to learn what’s needed to develop a self-nurturing instinct?

Here’s how it works for me: I’ve gotta have a damn good reason. Motivation. Something important has to be on the line to make it happen.

Now let’s just say that last weekend I was feeling pretty crappy. Not only had I just received a scary diagnosis from my doctor – with precious little in the way of actual information about hypothyroidism, thanks Doc! – but I also started my monthly cycle the very next day (apologies to any squeamish people/men-folk who might be reading).

When you’ve got stupidly low iron levels and you start bleeding, basically it’s like PMT on steroids: it blows. I had a three-day headache, my body ached and pain-killers gave no relief. My misfiring hormones were clearly having a merry old knees-up at my expense and I wasn’t invited. I was emotional, devastated at having a brand new “thing” to deal with courtesy of PTSD, and I could barely move. I slept through most of Saturday.

Somewhere in there I remembered that I actually know some really amazing people, like a friend of mine in the US who is both a GP and a naturopath. I emailed her and she very quickly gave me some awesome advice, including what questions to ask my doctor. The other part of her advice was to cut gluten and sugar from my diet, and to buy this book:

On the Sunday, I had to pull family duty: Mother’s Day, which is sadly not one of my all-time favourite days of the year. I slept most of the time I was at my sister’s place, too. There was some conversation about what’s going on with me but my mother accused me of “keeping them in the dark”.

Heh. I wasn’t, actually. It’s just that when you don’t talk to or see people on a regular basis, you tend to be less inclined to volunteer personal information about your health. Especially when you’re just trying to come to terms with it yourself!

But anyway, there was a point to this post and it’s about me getting another clue. So here it is…

This diagnosis of hypothyroidism is not as horrible as it first sounds. Well sort of. I do NOT subscribe to the standard western health model, so just because there’s an accepted “treatment” – aka synthetic hormones for the rest of your life – doesn’t mean that I have to lie down and take it.

And holy Shiva, I’m a yogi! But in my panic and fear, I forgot myself. I forgot my yoga and I forgot my relationship to the Goddess (Ma, Mary, Parvati, Kali, Durga etc). My patron Goddess form is that of Kali – who isn’t really as scary as she looks and/or is made out to be.

My lady Kali, she takes everything a part so it can be rebuilt. Become purified. Stronger. More refined. But first she takes you down to the bare bones, past whatever you think of as the possible end to it all. It aint easy, but in the end it’s a good thing. And her work is done with compassion and 100% motherly love.

This illness isn’t another reason to feel bitter, resentful and pissed off at my lot in life.

Rather, it’s a call to arms from the Mother Goddess, disguised as a really REALLY good reason to get my self-mothering act together.

It’s almost shamanic, the way this has come to a head in response to my statement/question: “I don’t know what to do next”.

The answer is this: get my health sorted out and develop my ability to self-nurture. Coz that’s important in the whole physical healing thing.

And if I’m EVER gonna kick my Grand-Bold-Stupid-Reckless-Awesome-Totally-Kicking-Life-Plan into action, then I need to be firing on all cylinders.

I suspect this next phase in the healing process aint gonna be easy. But then, nothing has been to-date, right?

Regardless, my hat is in the ring for this one because after everything I’ve been through, I’m sure as hell not giving up now!

~Svasti

P.S. The fiery warrior Svasti is back in the house!

#reverb10 – Yes, I’m beautifully different

Tags

#reverb10, Amazon, Amazonian-built yogi, beautifully different, differentness, existence, God, hour glass figure, Kali, Kinesiology, Mother Earth, mundane, overlay of otherness, physical presence, physique, practical world, quirkiness, Shiva, swimmers shoulders, Universe, Yoga teacher

Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.
~ December 8 prompt

For everything about me that’s the same as someone else, there’s a bunch of things that aren’t. I mean, we all have the same experience of being alive to a certain extent, but its how we process, interpret and consider those experiences that create a sense of differentness.

Ultimately of course, that’s all just cosmetic if you buy into the idea (and I do) that we’re all part of the same creative intelligent force (e.g. God, Shiva, Kali, Allah, Mother Earth etc) that causes the world and universe to exist.

As I like to say: God’s in everything, even the damn toaster. But then, in this conditioned experience of existence, I’m definitely NOT the toaster. Right? Oh geez, I hope not!

So yes, there are things about me that are different to most. Here’s a sampler for ya!

My body

At 5’10.5”, broad swimmers shoulders, an hour glass figure and just… generally bigger than most – I stick out. It’s something I’ve railed against for most of my life and it even came up in my most recent kinesiology session. I want to accept that my body will never blend in with the crowd, but it’s a tough gig.

Recently I commented over at Curvy Yoga: We who do not match up with the oft-projected image of how women should look need to take counsel amongst our own, and find role models that demonstrate positive acceptance of our shape and size.

I cannot change my height, the breadth or width of my ribcage, or the width of my shoulders. All of these things make me larger than the average woman. As one of my exes once said “you’re the same proportions of most other women, but just magnified”.

I am an Amazon. No matter how much I diet, even at my thinnest healthy weight, this is always the case. Being different like that is difficult in so many ways, and the best way to learn acceptance is to start being positive about myself and others who fall into that category.

That same ex once said that he was amazed to notice how people make way for me when I enter a room. I’ve been told I have a strong physical presence and I guess that’s a good thing although it’s hard to accept when for so much of my life, people have pointed and stared, sometimes even groped.

My non-typical yoga teacher physique

Following on from that, I really like demonstrating that yoga isn’t just for the waif-thin and uber-flexible (although I guess I AM pretty flexible).

There’s no criteria for being a yoga teacher other than your love of yoga, dedication and desire to share what you know. It’s not about how you look and never should be – not for the students or the teacher.

A by-product of yoga is the increase in suppleness, flexibility and strength. And okay, your body might start looking better than it has. BUT there’s no magic recipe.

So I’m doing my bit as an Amazonian-built yogi!

Quirkiness

There’s a general quirkiness to me that you might not pick up on first viewing. Amazonian-ness aside, I look pretty normal!

What are you doing, one of my yoga students asked me as I stood outside before class.

Oh, just talking to the birds in the trees. I’ll talk to any animal really… we both giggled.

As long as you don’t expect them to talk back, she offered. I wisely held my tongue! 😉

Look, I live in the practical world as much as I can but there’s ever an overlay of otherness for me. I smell, hear, see and feel it. Call me crazy if you like, but I’ll talk to that tree over there. I’ll have a conversation with the rain and I’ll make a decision about what I’m teaching in a yoga class based on the vibe I get from the air.

This quirk-streak colours my view of the world and consequently feeds my writing and the words I choose, my yoga, the way I ride my bike and the things I make for my nieces.

But actually, I suspect all creative types have their own kind of overlay on the mundane, fueling their vision and creations. Otherwise, where else does it come from?

Really, that’s just a sample of my own personal brand of madness. There’s much more for people to discover if they dare!

Now, tell me some of the ways in which YOU are beautifully different… I dare ya!

~Svasti xo

P.S. You might notice I’m in catch-up mode right now for #reverb10… I’ve got a few more posts a-coming and I’ll try to keep them snappier. 😀

it’s all yoga, baby’s top 15 yoga posts of 2010

Tags

bra fat, build muscle, homogenous soup, indignation, it's all yoga baby, Kali, link love, polarises, ranty, spitball, top 15 yoga posts, Yoga

A wee present with ever-changing coloured lights. It lives on my desk at work.

Say WHOAH… this chick’s been picked for a nod! How marvelous!

The wonderful Roseanne of it’s all yoga, baby fame has made her list (I assume she checked it twice) of the top 15 yoga blog posts of 2010 and this post of mine made the cut!

Interestingly, it’s one of my rantier expositions. The kind that polarises people (“she’s so mean!!” vs “I totally agree with you”), and it was most definitely written in the heat of some intensely righteous indignation. Hehehe! 😉

Have to say, I still stand by what I wrote. Sure, I perhaps might’ve used slightly less biting language but for better or worse, I’m one of those yogis who doesn’t want to see yoga degraded into a homogenous soup of “alternative entertainment”: I go to the gym, the movies and my yoga classes. And I get my STRETCH on in my yoga classes!

Also, I’m one of Kali’s own and can be quite the fiery little spitball when my ire is raised, which is actually pretty difficult to do – mostly I’m calm and friendly and stuff. Really! Ask people who’ve met me.

That said, perhaps we should all take a moment at the end of the year to read what Mother Teresa has to say on forgiveness. Might try some of that on… both forgiving myself and others, too. Life’s too short, right?

Anyway… here’s to continuing the good fight and those yoga teachers who teach that yoga is more than just a way to “build muscle” or melt their “bra fat”. I’m with them! Wait… these days I’m actually ONE OF THEM! 😉

And thanks to Roseanne for putting together such a FABULOUS list of posts. As some of the commenters mentioned, if you’re into yoga and not already reading it’s all yoga, baby then you should because Roseanne’s a fantastic writer. ‘Nuff said!

~Svasti xo

Kick-ass kinesiology ftw

Tags

affirmations, Anger, bush flower essences, cheated, confession, crystals, finger-in-the-pie, Forgiveness, giggles, Kali, Kinesiology, lost years, muscle testing, rape, Shiva, spring clean, tuning forks, unstuck, Zombie

So here’s a confession for you, although not a particularly juicy one: I have no freakin’ idea how kinesiology works. I just know that it does.

Perhaps it functions as a channel to communicate directly with the body, or the higher self, our guides or even the universe. Or perhaps all of those things are really just one and the same and it doesn’t matter what you think you’re communicating with. What matters is that it gets to the heart of things. The truth. The stuff that needs to be heard and dealt with – kinesiology connects with all of that beautifully. Intuitively.

Also, by way of a secondary confession: I giggled heartily throughout of Monday’s kinesiology session, tears seeping from the corners of my eyes! I giggled at myself and at the very, ummm… finger-in-the-pie spot-on-ness of stuff that was coming up. I’m pretty sure I didn’t become hysterical in my laughter (right, Kerry?), but it was probably close.

I knew, totally KNEW without a doubt, there was more to do in my inner world. More to clear out. More to resolve. Because I want to become as functional a human being as I possibly can. I have no idea how much work there is to do still – and of course, that’s not counting any gunk I’d accumulated before the last five years. But hey, if I can even spring clean those last five years from my body, heart and mind then I’ll be an extremely happy lady…

My very first encounter with kinesiology was years back, when I worked for a chiropractor. She’d use it in practical ways to assist her chiropractic treatments, but then she also once used it to help me clear out a really bad dream (that was, if you like, related to a past life). And yep, that’s a story I haven’t written here.

I had a little more kinesiology several years after that to combat yet another traumatic dream memory – but that one was related to experiences from this life time.

Then there was a little kinesiology about four months after I was assaulted – still living in a daze, still thinking that I could wait out all of the nightmarish things that made life so unbearable… The treatments I had at that time, however, were about just getting me to a somewhat functional state. The months preceding that, I was little more than a zombie. Floating through my days, and trying not to feel. Trying to ignore the photo negative imprint of his eyes seared onto my retinas… trying to sleep my days away as obliviously as I could. Wishing for all the world that I’d just stop existing.

My kinesiologist at that point related her own horror story: being raped by someone who’d become infatuated with her. Raped at knife point, over and over. I remember being amazed that she could speak so calmly about it. It’s only been in the last year that I’ve been able to talk about my own experiences without completely losing my shit.

It was through the lovely Nadine that I learned of Kerry. I went to Kerry and Nadine’s first Unstuck workshop (which was awesome, by the way) and through the synchronicity of these experiences, I knew I’d end up going to see Kerry at some stage. I just wasn’t sure when.

Well, the ‘when‘ is right now. So turn up the heat, baby!

Monday night included much head nodding, many ‘doh’ moments, and the aforementioned hilarity. Kerry would do her thing with the muscle testing and speak words that couldn’t have been more spot on if she’d been inside my head. Lots of my ‘stuff’ was demanding to be heard and in no uncertain terms. Very blunt, it was.

We’d talked about what I wanted to do with these sessions, and Kerry wrote a series of affirmations for us to work with. I think the list went something like this:

• I trust myself
• I trust my decisions
• I trust that I’m headed in the right direction
• I find my perfect weight
• I forgive myself
• I can forgive the past

Uhhh… say WHAT?

I. Can. Forgive. The. Past?!?!?!?!

Ermmm, well not really, actually. Not right now.

I could barely get the words out of my mouth when Kerry asked me to say them. And right then I wasn’t laughing any more. In fact I was choking a little, the way I used to in therapy when working on something really difficult.

Oh. Apparently, forgiving the past wasn’t okay with me. And perhaps for the first time, I explained it out loud and in fully formed sentences…

I feel that in some really important ways, the last five years were stolen. Wasted. Despite what I’ve learned and how much I’ve grown and had to come to terms with myself, there’s a part of me that would trade ALL of that to get those years back. To be as fit and healthy as I was then. To still possess the same level of happiness and confidence. To have been in a position to date and/or be in a relationship. To have possibly met someone I wanted to have kids with.

That last one is HUGE. I’ve been grieving for those lost years.

And I love kids, really, really, really. I wanted and STILL want the opportunity to be a mother. Like a lot of women, and I know I’m far from alone in that. I’m thirty-eight, and in December I’ll be thirty-nine. While I know that some women are fortunate enough to meet their partner and have babies at this age and later, I feel… good god but I feel so ANGRY and CHEATED out of those years! Prime years, where the chances of me being able to get pregnant were better than they are now. Better than they’ll ever be again.

Those years are gone and I can not get them back. There’s nothing I can do about it. And the person I’m angry at of course, is me. Kali and Shiva help me!

And so we worked those affirmations, and a whole bunch of other stuff I probably can’t remember correctly. In addition to muscle testing, kinesiology uses some awesome tools – like bush flower essences, tuning forks, crystals (apparently I need to acquire a blue lace agate) and prayer cards (cheeky things!). And there’s a bunch of stuff associated with the results of whatever comes up and those words as I mentioned were cutting right through. No messing about!

But we weren’t done yet. There was another message for me – seems I’m not doing enough to satisfy my creativity. Apparently the blogging and the yoga teaching are good, but my body/higher self/guides/the universe wants more. Wants me to write more!

Say what?!!

Which is, y’know, terrifying. I like my little blog here, and the idea of drawing more attention to myself by getting stuff published makes my mind turn to mush. In fact, I don’t have the faintest idea how I’d go about getting published! Or what I’d write or for what sort of publications.

Kerry did suggest perhaps writing more about what I know – perhaps stuff that would’ve been helpful to me five years ago if I’d come across it… and that’s a great idea because back then, it wasn’t easy to find support groups or even websites that were specific to people in my shoes.

For now, I’m just putting it out there that I plan to make inquiries, see what I can find out and perhaps even plan a few pieces. Which still sounds scary but actually, somewhat manageable.

So Monday was AMAZING (and that’s not even counting the two calls I had about upcoming yoga teaching work!). We shifted a lot of energy and made a good start on the spring cleaning. Even if I looked and felt a little fried when we were done!

There’s more to do though, but that’s for next month…

~Svasti

P.S. ftw = for the win

History of a spiritual quest – part v

Tags

animal familiars, belly dancing, Canberra, fork in the road, Guru, Kali, Pagan, paganism, Pagans in the Pub, run-away stream, rune reading as an oracle, Runes, satin, shamanic, spirit journeying, spiritual quest, trance work, Vedic astrology, velvet, Vimshottari Dashas, weapons training

[Read part i, part ii, part iii, & part iv]

Now that I look at it, the path that leads to where I stand (for the moment anyway), has been this kind of run-away stream. For the most part of its own accord, it’s flowed merrily back to source with little direction from me. For a long time I simply followed the path of least resistance, come what may.

I was not purposeful, not imbued with a sense of knowing where I was going. Just had a gut instinct about where I had to get to. Like to like, I floated along – sometimes easily, others not – and with great surprise and yet no surprise, found myself at the beginning of where I’d meant to get to all along.

But growing up in a world devoid of clues as to exactly where that was, I relied on little more than my intuition and sub-conscious cues. And it took me a while to learn to trust all of that. Hence, this bizarre quest of sorts… this journey with so many twists and turns…

Picture a dust-drenched camping plot an hour’s drive from Canberra (the concrete capital), amongst parched gum trees spattered across a thirsty horizon, on a summery late-January weekend… add all those velvet and lace outfits, hippie clothes, cloaks, capes etc, in country-Australia, at a green and sweat flecked camp ground…

The Pagan Summer Gathering of 1988 was in session.

I was a long flowing skirt wearing, belly-dancing goddess woman – teaching a unisex belly-dance workshop (based on my theory of dance and movement – see point #6). J was all Celtic-warrior-hard-man-long-hair-and-beard spiritual stuff.

The day of my workshop, was country-Australia-harsh-unforgiving, get-a-tan-in-the-shade kind of hot. It was a blast, even though only a single guy turned up. It was my first ever gig teaching people something I wanted to share.

New sign post

There was also a workshop on runes happening a bit later and both J and I were interested. I’d wandered over to see what was going on, glanced at the guy who’d be leading it (someone I’ve written about here before and labelled A) and swiftly backed away. Little did I realise he was to become my teacher and years later, my lover.

I was “saved” by a good friend I hadn’t seen in a while. He pulled me aside to tell me some serious news. With a legitimate excuse to not go, I dragged my friend back to my tent to commiserate, eat food and talk.

But J did go, and excitedly returned. This guy is the real deal. He’s learned this traditional system of runes, he’s Sydney-based and will be teaching classes.

An unspoken agreement occured: we’d be going to those classes. Despite my initial reaction to A, everything that J told me sucked me in. A western style martial form with weapons? A kind of western tai-chi? Herbolgy? Mythology? Runes as an oracle?

Coooooool!

This PSG wasn’t amazing just because of this new fork in the road. It was also my first proper introduction to Kali, my Mahavidya (another story circa 2008, ten years later).

At this gathering, that slightly off-center guy (even for a group of pagans) I’d met at Pagans in the Pub was running a Kali ritual. Which involved nudity but no sex (many of these things did), mantra and dancing. Can’t remember anything else about it, probably because I didn’t understand it much.

Didn’t really think about it at the time. And so it was… Kali had already staked something of a claim. Then, maybe it’s just always been that way?

Runology

Back in Sydney, J and I and another friend started studying this runic system with A.

We’d travel from one side of Sydney to another every fortnight for about a year, learning an oral family tradition that’d been handed down from one generation to the next, and had finally been taught to four outsiders, to keep the tradition alive.

One of those four people was the man who’d become my Guru (he’s trained in many esoteric traditions). He was living in Australia at the time, so when he came back from the UK, he taught a few Australian students of his own, including A.

And what we learned was a rich and fascinating living tradition of western shamanism: animal familiars; spirit journeying; trance work; rune reading as an oracle; weapons training. And so much more. So interesting, especially since we white folk are convinced we lack such history. But in some pockets of the world, this knowledge lives on.

Around September of the same year, we were handed flyers for a rune workshop with my Guru. J was working that weekend and made the call not to change his work schedule. But I did go, staying at A’s place overnight. Which is kinda sorta where my Why I have a Guru series picks up…

Galaxy of coincidences

Something I haven’t mentioned in that series is how my Vedic astrology chart correlates with some of the monumental changes in my life. Vimshottari Dashas are major cycles of time a planet/moon rules in your birth chart and according to Vedic astrology; this can influence your activities and state of mind.

When I moved to Sydney from Melbourne at the age of twenty-one, it was smack-dab on the transition into my Sun cycle – a time of activity. And when I met my Guru, it was the exact transition from Sun to Moon cycle – good for inner work but little else!

So, major changes in my chart it seems, have equalled major changes in my life. Quite unbeknown to me at the time.

The first encounter with my Guru left me enamoured, dazed and definitely a little confused. Also, quite radiant, joyous and kinda high! I returned from my weekend up north absolutely raving about it all.

Of course, J was far from impressed. I’d say it was blatantly clear that if asked, I would’ve gone to live wherever my Guru was (that’s never actually happened, not yet!).

When I went back a couple of weeks later to talk to him some more, I was given some practices to get started with. Off-handed, and without really knowing anything about my relationship with J, my Guru said to me – Oh, so you’re still engaged? Like he was reading my inner turmoil and simply spoke it aloud…

Without doubt, that day was one of those moments where knowledge descends. But more on that topic soon. It was a quickening, a ripening, perhaps a remembering…

Down, down, down

By this time, things between J and I had been deteriorating for a good six months. We were slowly imploding, and here I was, infatuated with another man – even if it wasn’t actually infatuation in a romantic way. At the time it sure felt romantic to me, in my state of delusion and elation!

To complicate things, I’d also had something of a crush on A for a while, but told no one. Not a soul. Actually, I was kinda proud of myself that I was aware of the crush and had no plans to act on it. I was with J, and A was married.

J often blamed our relationship breakdown on my feelings for A and my Guru. But the truth was, we had our own problems and it would be wrong to blame external influences. I will admit that my Guru was a catalyst, but not in any obvious way. Perhaps it was just all part of that quickening…

As it seemed less and less likely J and I would ever get married, we both withdrew. The time of talking, arguing, pleading, crying and hoping was mostly done. I took off my engagement ring in protest, and left it on a shelf in the lounge room. J responded by playing more and more computer games with the study door shut.

Nature abhors a vacuum, so as many couples in that situation do… we found fault with each other more and more, and our focus was drawn in opposing directions. Until there was no longer a way to mend our broken bonds.

But before that, we had more rune workshops with the head of the family tradition, who’d flown to Australia. I had my very first and quite shocking experience with trance work, and found out just how deadly a half-blind old man can be in martial arts training!

J and I both delved more intensely into our mutual interest in this tradition. Yet all that time… we moved increasingly out of each other’s orbit.

To be continued…

~ Svasti

A Writerly Dilemma

Tags

blockade, clamshells, correct reflection, Echo and Narcissus, ego, fool’s gold, honesty, Kali, MySpace angles, narcissism, pearls, post-PTSD memory, rambling, Samskaras, slash and burn, unfinished business, Writer's block, WWF smackdown

Having another one of those writer’s blocks thingies.

Got heaps of posts at about 70-90% readiness, yet… it’s like extracting fingernails, getting them over the line. It’s a little bit like a WWF smackdown, but neither side is winning.

This time though, I know what the blockade is called. Definitely not a shortage of ideas or words. Nor time – ha! Got plenty of that in a job that calls for me to come in for certain hours, but actually do very little. That in itself, can be somewhat paralysing, and draws up my tendencies to indulge in laziness.

But actually, I am writing. This current working file in Word (I group them by the month) sees me on page 10 of 24. I am writing post number 7 for the month, but ahead of this one, there’s many, many pages of unfinished business.

And here’s why.

I’ve been pondering the nature of my writings, and worrying if they are just a little too self-involved/narcissistic/painting myself as the heroine or victim/not honest enough/rambling/telling stories for the sake of the telling/without a point… and so on.

Am I just writing to feed my ego?

Presently on the go, are three strands of story. Two of them have remained loose ends for most of this year. I’ve yet to sew them up and make neat seams as my mother does when she knits sweaters for my nieces.

If that’s even possible! But at least some semblance of finished. Finished for now, would be close enough…

And I fear that I’ve perhaps presented MySpace angles of my stories instead of representing things more neutrally.

Some stories I’ve written purely out of raw, hardcore, seething, ragged, painful need. The kinds of stories that, if not written and released, eventually work to implode your vital organs or make you desperately ill.

But the ones I’m writing now, they aren’t like that.

For example, the stories from earlier in my life. At the time they were very traumatic and painful and I know they inform my relationships with men and many other important decisions in how my samskaras operate.

BUT they don’t eat at me like acid. Not like the stories of assault, PTSD and depression did (and heck, who knows, there might even be more of them in there somewhere?).

And the stories I’ve humourously titled my ‘spiritual quest’ – I know they’re related somehow too, but they’re not urgent.

And I wonder if that lack of urgency makes the pointy end of truth, the poke you in the ribs and soft tissues of your body kind of truth, harder to uncover?

I’m almost finished writing the next part – sort of – but I look at all the details and it’s like I can’t see the fool’s gold from the real stuff. So much going on, what’s important? What’s not? What’s just me rambling for the sake of it?

So I edit with my slash and burn tactics. I am after all, one of Kali’s own and I wield my spurious (perhaps) red pen with detached abandon. But then, do I remove too much? That bit I thought was a little goofy or unrelated, is it really related and if so, how can I write about it in a way that counts?

Then I say to heck with it! And I write some more, letting floodgates fall away and the polluted garbage flow back to source, atop the waterways that support the real stories.

But real stories aren’t the waterways. Instead they are pearls inside the carelessly scattered clamshells littering the sandy waterway floors. I dive time and again, and fumble with my diver’s knife, prising one open and then the next to find many that are seemingly empty.

And just maybe, another fragment of the story is revealed. Or I miss it all together and I write about other things that don’t ring with truth. And I fail to notice the shining gem that will undoubtedly sing brightly once liberated and polished.

Dimmed by a shoddy post-PTSD memory (which is still not that fantastic) and also with time, they all look alike.

After all, these are clamshells I’ve allowed to close and accumulate, never thinking til now I’d have to open them ever again. They seemed unimportant at the time. Are they unimportant still?

Perhaps…

But then, what would I know? I don’t have a bird’s eye view. I can only tell my story from what I think I understand, and even then, that’s surely not the full picture.

More than anything though, I hope I do not write with a kind of avarice, feeding that part of me that, as a yogini I seek to dismantle. For that would just be folly, right?

Correct reflection I fear, is what’s missing right now…

~Svasti

History of a spiritual quest – part iii

Tags

belly dancing, Carlisle Castle Hotel, coven, Egypt, full moon, Guru, Hare Krishna, Interview with the Vampire, Kali, Newtown, Pagan, paganism, Pagans in the Pub, pentagrams, Puja, satin, sexual preferences, spiritual quest, velvet, witchcraft

[Read part i & part ii first]

Various dark coloured shades of satin and velvet. A talking stick. Women with flowers in their hair, layers of silver jewellery and long swooshing skirts. Sequins and sparkly things. Incense. Grown men and women in robes with hoods. And capes. Leather pouches tied to belts containing runes or tarot cards. The occasional new agey t-shirt with a wolf howling at the moon.

And much beer.

This was my introduction to Pagans in the Pub in Sydney, circa 1993.

A group of twenty or so people gathered in the back room of the Carlisle Castle Hotel (yes, Pagans in the Pub held in a pub with the name ‘castle’ in the title – the puns are free and keep on coming!).

The Carlisle Castle, courtesy of Google street view

Just an unassuming working class pub in the narrow backstreets of Newtown surrounded by workman’s cottages built snugly together. The front bar was populated with stoic and gruff older men, surprised at the repeated declarations of ‘Blessed be’ emanating from the back room.

I spotted T, dressed in a dark red long sleeved shirt, a black vest and jeans, meticulous dark hair and beard. He introduced me to a bunch of people whose names I immediately forgot.

Of course, it wasn’t just ‘hi, I’m Jason’, but ‘hi, I’m Jason-Lightworker and I’m a Druid’. Or ‘hi, I’m Silverstar and I’m a Shaman’. Everyone there, it seemed, was a something-or-other-magical-label which they revelled in.

There was discussion and debate. Plenty of opinions voiced and egos marched out for all to see. The topics were decidedly unusual, but hey, what could I expect from a mixed bag of pagans?

Overwhelming is one word. Colourful is another. Whacky, free-spirited and a little lost… they’re other words.

Let me just say the start of my search in no way resembled where I ended up. But if I hadn’t taken that first tentative step (followed by many others), I never would have met my guru. Even if it was just a slightly out of the way route.

Me and T

Turns out T was one of the movers and shakers in the Sydney pagan community. He was somewhat notorious, and had been around for a long time.

Although at the time I was questioning my sexual preferences (gay/straight/bi), and even though I didn’t find T (14 years my senior) physically attractive, somehow we ended up together.

And actually at the time we met, I was in fact, dating a woman. Clearly, not for long.

That part of the story alone, is worthy of its own focus. There’s no way to write about the how’s and why’s of my relationship with T without changing the point of this story, which is my journey through the world of neo-paganism.

It was a mad eighteen months of my life in which: we went to Egypt (my first overseas trip and T is well-versed in Egyptian mythology); we moved in together (bookshelves, skull candelabras, pentagram rugs and all!); I started belly dancing (he thought I’d like it – I did); he taught me about witchcraft (not as dark and dangerous as most would imagine); we started a coven (small group of people learning witchcraft); we ran a pretty awesome dress up event for the premiere of Interview with the Vampire (another story yet again); T contemplated faking his own death (I talked him out of it)… and more.

Much more.

With T, I attended my first ever pagan type weekend gathering. You know the kind – a bush camp site with bunks and dorms, a mess hall, marquee tents and fire pits. Drums, full moon (and other) rituals, various workshops, late night jam sessions, hash, peace and love. He also took me to my very first Hare Krishna meal by donation/chanting session and we went often.

In some ways, T was the real deal and I learnt a lot from him. In other ways, he was completely stark raving crazy.

I had my doubts about T and I around eight months in. He was running away from his past, and stuck in a certain reality. I was still… learning. However, I was meeting plenty of people and being exposed to all kinds of new ideas.

That time in my life was somehow very important (which is part of that other story). I was still only twenty-two, impressively aimless and ashamed that I hadn’t gone to university.

What I learned

I was living life like it was some big adventure playground. But finally I was learning all kinds that made sense to me (at least some of it did) on spiritual topics. Things I’d written about many years ago. It was… helpful.

But the pagan scene, I found, was a little hollow. Many of the people putting on robes and turning up to full moon rituals could just as easily have been attending church. By that I mean, they seemed to want to belong and be a part of something. Have a label that worked for them. And there was little real magic going on.

I even met one guy who, despite his tattoos and piercings, eyeliner and 100% black wardrobe, claims to black magic and darkness… once said… Do you ever think about what will happen if the Christians are right?

Personally, I didn’t. I’ve never seen things quite as black and white as that.

Generally, the people were lovely and the experiences were cool. But I was looking for something else. I imagined it was like ringing a bell with a very specific tone and pitch that exactly matches my own.

And I hadn’t found it yet.

I even met a genuine yogi at that time – a Kali devotee – fond of naked puja. But it didn’t ring true, not with him. Which perhaps had something to do with the fact that I found him a little peculiar. Nice. But kinda whacked.

Endings & beginnings

Things ended with T as dramatically as they’d begun.

I’d been performing in some local theatre and he was jealous of my co-star (much closer to me in age, not to mention tall, dark & sexy). I found out later T had been following me as I walked to rehearsals!

Nothing had happened, except for the kissing required of our roles. But there was a definite flirtation going on.

T and I had put on another of our big costume parties. All our pagan friends, my theatre and belly dance friends were invited. It was a wild night with a band in the front room, local pop-rock stars in attendance, lots of dancing, drinking and madness.

For reasons known only to T, he flew into a rage after everyone had left, accusing me of sleeping with my co-star (I wasn’t, not yet). He didn’t believe me and threw me out of the bedroom, ordering me to move out the next day (with ominous threats of what would happen if I didn’t).

The threat I’ve never been able to forget is… a little too gruesome to write down.

I was sufficiently terrified and called one of my pagan friends. S said she’d help me move and I could stay with her until I found my own place.

[Read part iv]

~Svasti

Maha Navararti

Tags

Durga, Festival, Hindu, Kali, Lakshmi, Maha Navararti, Ravana, Saraswati, Tripurasundari, Vijaya Dashami

Today is day two of a great annual Hindu festival called Navaratri. It’s the celebration of the triple mother goddess, as the creative force of the universe. Whilst Lord Shiva is said to host all things, it is the Goddess energy that takes form, and thus the universe is manifest.

The Goddess in Indian tradition exemplifies the unification of all the manifest energies of creation. Our usual experience of the world has us interacting these energies in their most dense, gross and seemingly separate forms, keeping us from realizing the inherent connection inherent in all.

In her mythology, the form of Devi – the Goddess – arose during a great war between the Gods and the Titan-Demons. The Gods were at a standstill in their efforts, unable to make any progress against an equal opposing force. The Gods realized that their animate energy, that which gave them power, was the very same source of the power of their enemies and so they united and externalized their energies to create a Goddess that would be able to vanquish with the Titan-Demons as an extension of Herself. Indeed, Durga is the only deity worshiped iconographically with the Demon she destroys. She liberates her foes as a part of Herself; this is Her boundless compassion.

– Anon

For those interested, there’s a very long and interesting article called “God as Mother” which can be downloaded from the Divine Life Society’s website discussing Navaratri in a great deal more detail than you’ll find here.

Nav = nine

Rartri = nights

Navaratri is depicted as the battle of Rama against Ravana (lord of the Asuras) with an eventual victory on the tenth day. But the battle is also one of the Self in attempt to gain liberation, and the knowledge that form (Ma/Goddess energy) is the way we can achieve it.

The first three days are dedicated to Ma as Durga/Kali, who is invoked to help clear away our “demons”, our heaviness and karmic patterns to aid us in liberating ourselves from samsara. The next three days are dedicated to Ma as Lakshmi who brings nourishment and sustaining energy. The next three days are dedicated to Ma as Saraswati – the goddess of knowledge and wisdom, something we all need in order to grow and open.

The final day is celebrated as the culmination of the three aspects of Ma as Tripurasundari – the triple Goddess. The celebration held this day is called Vijaya Dashami – the Tenth Day of Great Victory.

If I was with the rest of my yogi crew in the US or Thailand I could join in the great rituals and celebrations being held. But as I’m here on my own in Melbourne, Australia… I have to do what I can which means performing mantra, visualisations and maintaining connection to the Goddess energy as much as I can.

All very good timing for me right now with my “woe-is-me” attitude. So, I’m gonna engage in Navaratri with all the sincerity, gratitude and love that I can. And use our kickass Goddess’ to help me pull out of this unusual slump.

Jaya Ma! Jaya Durgai!!

~Svasti