Yoga Camp Part 2

So my dear friend Elizabeth and I went on our annual pilgrimage to yoga camp. This actually began with sitting in Friday night traffic on Bell St and snarling at the other drivers, "Move it, buster! We need to get to yoga camp!"

The experience continued with teeming rain, fallen trees and flooded roads, none of which inhibited our enjoyment. We didn't even find out what happened in the election until after we'd got home again, that's how cut off from the world we were. Bliss! Though I was so worried about missing early morning yoga that I leapt out of bed at the sound of Elizabeth's phone, flicked on the light and started getting dressed, until a sleepy Liz informed me (with admirable restraint) that it was actually only midnight...

This year, our course focused on meditation, which is something I know nothing about and feared I would be very bad at. During our 5.30am yoga class, the teacher told us that we should be still, and allow our breath to move through the physical body, without disturbing it; and suddenly I saw that in meditation, the thoughts should be allowed to move through the still mind in the same way, and suddenly it all made much more sense.

I think my favourite moment was when the whole class chimed ommmmm, the harmonies resonating, weaving in and out, and vibrating through us as if we were bells.

Om is the sound that created the universe, you know. In the beginning was the word, the breath of life, and the wind passed over the waters. And certainly all the dams were full. At the ashram, Swami Atma told us they'd been chanting for rain. She giggled. "Well, that worked!"

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