Yoga's Crushing Force...
By: Daniel E. Kramer
I remember the first time it happened. Never will I forget the feeling, the burn, the heat, the sinister impossibility of that intensity. It was August 3rd, 2012; Nancy’s birthday. It started out as a gift for my wife on her 30th. There it was 5:00 AM, Stockton, California. How could I have known what it was about to do for me, how I was about to change, do a mental 360, then another 720, followed by a mere 180. Backward, over, under, in and out…breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out, like a Japanese Ham Sandwich, like a Cobra, like a Balancing Stick, like a Jessica, Nancy, Helena, Agnes…
I remember laying on the mat, in a sleepy daze, a new forced and yet comfortable meditation slowly taking hold. The air began to get hot; nostrils widened, eyes closed; I did not know anything then. I knew nothing about it. Then the instructor came in, and it began. The stretch that never ends, the heat in my mind, the sweat in my eyes, the distance I seemed not to be able to travel, going so far away, moving into space, but I never left the mat. Holding steady, holding true, but falling in every way to the depths of my little mind and spirit.
The time came and went, and it was over, and I laid there, and something smashed me like I had never felt anything before. This was the ultimate drug, the ultimate sex, the ultimate exhilaration to behold. I had climbed the Andes, swum the great rivers of Northern California, been atop the Sear’s tower during the Fireworks, stepped across the back of three rattlesnakes, hunted and fought the toughest of beasts, waded through the swamps of compulsion and obsession, and hurdled myself mysteriously into the Bikram studio that morning to be dumbfounded and shocked into a state of the living. I was reborn onto a yoga mat that morning.
I was changed. My thoughts were set ablaze…
There is nothing that seems to have anything on yoga, and to be honest, maybe that is the mystery to me. It is just me there, just me versus me. The only competition is me. The two Daniel’s; the trapped lion in the cage, and the little lamb that wanders about most the time. The lion is sleeping in a state of euphoric bliss, waiting for something to bring him back into the world. The lion should always sleep, he should stay asleep, but the reality is simple; he must wake up to feed.
And so sometimes he does, and sometimes the lamb of me is devoured…
Here is the thing though, that yoga, that time on the mat, that is where the Master enters the ring. The lion is awakened every time I do yoga, and I see it staring at me in the mirror face to face. We get the chance during that 90 minutes of open-eyed meditation to get to know who is in charge. We get to be intimate, one on one, hides and fur, skin and bones, teeth and claws, all in a dance to stay within the moment.
After that day more came to me. We started reading and listening more. We learned about Paramahansa Yogananda; we read his book. We learned about Bikram, Hell Bent, other methods, doing it alone, together, in a room with 20, or in my mind’s eye all while being busy doing something else. The life it took on was one of its own, and then it stopped. Slowly it came to rest.
The mystery of it is in the meditation. Maybe staring at that mirror in pose was too much for me to deal with. Maybe I ran out of time, started a company, had more children, picked up the guitar, started running instead, stopped recognizing the benefit, felt betrayed by the meditation, felt betrayed by Bikram and his world, something less, something more…
No, it wasn’t any of that at all. It was much simpler than that...
My mind gets lost easily; my ambition is always too great. The yoga, for all it did I thank it, but it was too powerful. It commanded me. It took me on a journey to the end of my mind. It was me waking up, me taking the red pill, me finally talking with God; one on one. I had somehow created a direct line of communication with a higher power, the Lord of the galaxies and stars was there for me to visit, and I gave it up.
Somethings are hard to explain, but maybe you too can understand how powerful this shit can be…Maybe, someday I will go back to it. Maybe, someday that lion will let go of its death grip around my throat that is keeping me away. You know the lion is pissed that I take it on walks to the yoga studio. After all, lion hates being someone’s bitch. Perhaps…maybe, someday…I will kick my ego’s ass, and hit the mat again.
