The knotted serpent

During my yoga class tonight, we were going through a series of twists. I was again contemplating the lack of range that my body has, especially when dealing with my core. After three years plus of yoga (of which a good 18 months could be considered consistent and persistent), I am still very far from half lotus, from eagle arms, etc. I’ve worked at tackling specific issues, like my hips or my shoulders, but that does not seem to make a difference, except when measured against months of time.

While I was trying to relaxing into the poses, I thought about doing something drastic, like taking a day or week off and work on nothing but my hips, or using sandbags (weights, my wife’s body) to push me past my limits, or hiring a personal trainer to whip me into form or a private yoga instructor to show me whatever I am missing to get through these obstacles.

In yoga, kundalini is the female energy that lies coiled at the base of the yogic body, a sacred power that rises out of the loins, coils around the spin and rises upwards towards the crown; the goal is to enable the free flow of kundalini, Well, my kundalini seems to be firmly knotted around my hips and wound tightly around my spin.

Then, I thought that perhaps it’s not the physical side that is holding me back. There must be something non-physical inside me that is tightly bound and thoroughly even entangled. I like to pretend that yoga and meditation has made me mellow and grounded, but I am just deluding myself: hidden underneath the surface is a small boy who’s afraid of moving or even fidgeting and freezes his muscles to the bone. When the musculature has been locked in position for nearly 50 years, it’s excruciatingly difficult to ply it loose.