Recently I chose a yoga practice at random from my ‘go to’ online resource for yoga, (https://www.ekhartyoga.com/). It was entitled ‘Freedom and Love Class’ and its theme was centred on embodying freedom and love.
Embodiment itself is an interesting concept and in yoga (for me), it is all about awareness, a deep listening to what’s ‘going on’ in my body, my mind and the many other subtle layers of my being. When a mental or an emotional insight ‘trickles’ into my body stimulated by a yoga tutor’s narration and / or instruction, it can be ‘understood’ in a visceral sense by my body. Working this way is a process and needs regular practice and a discipline, but with time, healing (emotional / physical) happens.
During the practice, I recall ‘love’ feeling ‘heavy’ in my body, ‘dense’ even, centred in my hips, my sacrum and in my chest / heart centre. These are chakra regions and informs me of possible blockages. To clear these blockages, to free and release them will bring a free flowing love. Free flowing implies freedom – our ‘right’ to know (no secrets), our right to speak (freedom of expression) and our right to be heard (please listen to me, respect what I have to say).
During the practice, I recall ‘freedom’ feeling ‘light’ in my body, focussed in my extremities – my fingers, hands, toes, feet, and in the sides of my face – a tingling, an expanding feeling, outside of my physical body moving into other unexplored realms.
After the practice, I spent days musing over the connection between love and freedom. True love has as its grounding, freedom. The two are inseparable. Love for me equals freedom and freedom equals love.
When we are free, we feel joy, when we feel joy, we are free to love, when we love, we feel freedom. It’s circular, everlasting, energising and empowering.
Who hasn’t looked to the sky and wished they could be ‘as free as a bird’. I try not to write in cliches, but some cliches are so succinct, they require no addendum, nor do they make me squirm. This is one. When I watch birds, especially flying in the sky, I experience great joy and a contentedness. I feel a mirror is being held up to me which reflects my true nature: freedom and I yearn and ever desire to express this and in turn, express love.
Here is a poem I wrote in response to all I felt watching storks on a recent cycling holiday in Saxony. I wrote it as I was creating my ‘stork’ collage (pasted above).
The Way It Is
Over and over we break,
we cry
or wish we could.
Many times
we have shrugged it off
or plugged the hole
in our heart, trying
to stem the flow.
As if to be broken, to bleed
is wrong.
As if we are not perfect
just the way we are.
The caged bird who sings
will never sing with joy.
Eventually she will fall silent
dreaming she is flying free.
The storks are drifting
in an orange sky,
floating among thermals,
red legs dangling,
long beaks pointing north
as light fades to silk.
At some point, maybe
we will decide we’re done
with trying, as if simply
to be is not the path to joy,
to opening the caged door.
LyndyH 