Kundalini and Creativity

I am the least athletic person in the world and yet I am prone to athletic injuries. I tore my meniscus just getting out of bed. I sprained my ankle walking home from a particularly lovely dinner out. So, as you might imagine, I am not very successful at sticking to my frequently renewed vows to go to the gym. There is, however, one exercise class I do my best to get to every week. As soon as my knee improves or my ankle heals, I find myself yearning for my Kundalini Yoga class.

The gym I go to, Healthworks for Women, is one block from my house in Cambridge, across the street from the Porter Square “T” stop (that is what we call subways here). I love going to an all women’s gym. The low testosterone level keeps the whole place feeling safe, comfortable and angst-free for all of us, and at least during the hours I frequent it, most of us are a bit on the older side. Consequently, there are no feats of physical prowess on display in our Kundalini yoga class. It can be strenuous, and I am often sore afterwards, but our teacher Amarjit knows her audience. She leads us through exercise sets designed to clear out negative energy, boost our immune system, protect us from hostility or massage our inner organs. Each time I hear what that day’s set is for, I think, “How did Amarjit know that is what I needed today?”

Sometimes I get to the room early or linger afterwards and from the snippets of conversation I overhear I realize there is something special about the women in this class. They reflect the best of the vibrant local Cambridge community. They all look somewhat unassuming but several of them are accomplished writers, artists and healers – my kind of people! When I went to hear one of them at what I thought was going to be a small reading of her memoir, I entered a packed hall of people and discovered she is a professor at a local MFA program and was reading her work along with other well known authors.

There was an electric moment before class recently when a young art student mentioned she was studying public art. Amarjit turned and sought out a woman on a yoga mat across the room,  who turned out to be the public artist responsible for the beloved bronze glove art installation in the Porter Square ‘T” station – an installation the student had studied. We were all a bit star-struck at that revelation: how many hundreds of times have we all passed those charming mittens and gloves? They are part of an effort back in the 70’s and 80’s to add art to the subway stations, called Arts on the Line, a model for similar programs around the country. You can see more of our classmate’s artwork here. I am having a little trouble with my Photo Gallery but if you click on it and look around a bit you will see more photos of the gloves.

So yes, there are some wonderfully accomplished creative folks in this class, but during class we are all the same, in stretchy pants and baggy t-shirts, egos and accomplishments tucked away in the lockers downstairs.

We all come to energize ourselves, to breathe out our worries and breathe in healing and strength. We pump our navels to Breath of Fire and awaken the Kundalini energy coiled at the base of our spines, our hands pointed to the sky, eyes closed. I am pretty sure my Kundalini energy remains secure in its well-padded home, but I have learned to love the feeling of expansion that comes with the breathing and exercises of the class. I have learned to meditate and focus on mantras about being one with the universe:

Sat Nam, I Am.

I Am Good.

I Am Strong.

I Am One.

No wonder our class is full of creative women. What better way to nurture the creative in each of us than to breathe in deeply and acknowledge our deep connections. We end each class with the Sunshine Song and I leave you with it here so you can carry some of the benefit of the class away with you.

Now breathe in deep, close your eyes, breathe out:

May the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you guide your way on, guide your way on, guide your way on. Sat Nam.