The collective realm: the truth is revealed

Yoga school: it’s a place where truth trickles freely from all cracks in the psyche. Don’t misinterpret the word “trickle” here as a soft, gentle, rippling movement. Not like the Zen monks have us believe, tending daily to a perfectly still and calm mind-garden. No, not like that at all. Try confronting, quivering, overwhelming, aggressive, get-me-outta-here truths; those seeking a chance to be heard, dealt with and learned. Powerful, transforming, life-altering, real truths. Truths lurking awkwardly within, demanding my attention and eventually exposing themselves in the form of sweat, tears, sighs, screams or laughter.

The truths I learnt were about myself: my expectations, perspectives, values, morals, understanding, knowledge, limitations, possibilities. But they were also truths about the world and our actions, the spirit, the universe, kindness and guidance. About the universal feelings of desire and love. A whole lot of truths were revealed to me in those 21 days.

Below you’ll read some truths I learnt about words; the easiest trickle I tackled.

At yoga school, truer meanings of words and phrases were revealed to me on a daily basis. They were those already on high rotation in my vocabulary as well as ones I’d never heard of (see Sanskrit language).

The first: intensive.
My 21-day yoga teacher training was excruciatingly intensive. Accelerating, demanding, exhausting, taxing, tiring and overwhelming. These terms can now be listed under the word “intensive” in the Katie Funk and Wagnall. Prior to teacher training, I carelessly offered this word after a Pilates reformer class at the gym, or breathlessly when struggling to duck dive a set in the surf. Not any more. My appreciation of the word “intensive”’ has profoundly changed and I only mutter it when desperately deserved. Ten hours of yoga a day definitely makes the cut.

The second: lack of sleep

I used to use this term after a restless night of dreams. Or when the rhythm of the night continued to vibrate throughout my entire body, hours after I left the club. Or after waking to a dog barking, a child crying. But no, these are no longer synonymous with this term. Late nights at yoga school due to raising our energetic levels so high that we couldn’t sleep — now that’s much more like it!

I love waking up with the curtains open, the sun flirting cheerful shadows across my face.

My yoga gal pals and I lay wide awake in bed, matching pink doonas pulled up over our heads, in fits of giggles trying our best to fall asleep. Each night we used yoga nidra, the meditative yogic sleep, to retreat, and each morning we woke with big smiles but sleepy eyes. Now that results in lack of sleep. That’s also a nice segue into my third new phrase…

The third: roll out of bed and onto the mat
A 5.30am alarm, 6 o’clock class. 5.30am alarm, 6 o’clock class. No sleep-ins, no slow starts. This was the rhythm I danced to for 21 days. Blissful, yes, as I’m a morning person. I love waking up with the curtains open, the sun flirting cheerful shadows across my face. The warm glow evaporating crusty-eyed sleep and melting any unfinished dreams.

I think alarms are unnecessary, a rude way to greet the dawn of a new day. “Let’s be primal, joyful, ecstatic and celebrate sunshine with a handstand!” said pre-intensive lack of sleep Katie. But at 5.30am in the morning there’s zero sun to kiss, caress, rustle and raise you out of bed. The wise, old celestial soul is still shut-eyed and dreaming of Mr Moon Eyes. She abandoned me every morning to a painful alarm clock.

And each morning, I rolled out of bed and onto my mat, blissfully lacking sleep, to another intensive day.