Guest Post by Morisha Shuey
I woke up, stumbled out of bed. I was off to teach yoga class. Normally I like to have my time in the morning. Transition easily from dream to waking. Have some tea, and look forward to the coffee I’ll have later in the morning. But this morning I was tired, heart-ached, week was long, body was stiff. The story line was long and thick. When I sat down behind the desk a title of a book caught my eye, “What is kabbalah?” In my dreamy state I fell into it fully, the words captivated my senses.
“Your shadow on the sidewalk presents a severely limited version of your true self. Your shadow does not reflect the blood, bones, emotions, imagination feelings or desires that define you as an individual. It is merely a two dimensional reflection of your three dimensional reality. A 1 percent perfect image of your 99 percent self. Can you move someone’s arm simply by touching his or her shadow on the wall? It can’t be done. You must touch the source, the actual arm the reality of the 99 percent. Move the actual arm and shadow responds automatically. In other words you must move into a higher dimension to effect change.
We however have been conditioned to focus our efforts on the 1 percent realm of existence, which is akin to chasing our own shadow. It’s an exercise in futility“
Before I knew it, it was five minutes past the hour and I had no students. On this particular morning I secretly celebrated. How could I teach a class with integrity this morning? I was much too cloudy, much too tired to lead students. Who was I to call myself a yoga teacher? So I fell asleep on the floor of the yoga room. Finishing the first two chapters of my morning Kabbalah education. I awoke to a knocking on the door. Sleepy eyes I answered. A student
What was she doing here? I asked myself,
“The next class is not until ten.”
“Really? I thought it was at 8.”
It was at that moment I was hit with a profound realization. I had arrived an hour early. My half sleeping self had in fact under-slept an hour.
There were three of us total. Myself, a fellow teacher, and a long time student. We decided on a silent led class.
“Take class!” They said.
Class began. Sunday morning 8am.
I surrendered. Rolled out my mat and in silence just listened. Slowly, and suprisingly camly the words that guide us through our classes began to cruise thru my head, drip into my body and into my movements.
“Welcome,” I repeated silently to myself. “to your 90 min moving meditation”. And that was it. The next 90 minutes I allowed myself the silence. The chatter turned off as just the words that I repeat over and over week after week were felt into my body, into my spirit and into my being.
There was a particular silence this morning. The rain pounded down, deadening any chance of senseless mind chatter, and the three of us seemed to syncronize our beings and our breath enough that we completed class in the exact 90 minutes.
In my tired state my mind allowed my body to work with exactly where it was at. There were no perfect postures or should bes. There was an opening where my tired mind decided to sleep, it allowed my body and being to open….and it was bliss.
As I lay on the floor after class I scanned my body with my breath. The ins and outs felt more fluid. My body felt warm and relaxed. Most importantly for me on this morning beyond my seemingly endless story, I felt inspiration. Inspiration to peak behind that curtain just a little more to stretch into that other 99% to discover the words to write a new story one with new catch lines, one with new twist turns, highs and lows. And I felt committed to feeling and letting myself be in every single one of the sensations. Shining my light that much brighter so my shadow didn’t keep me there.
Love and light.