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KAREEN'S YOGA by Kareen Zebroff
A majestic cathedral of tall trees strive mightily to reach the heavens. Inside, cedar duff on soft peat has become the scented mattress on which our little tent nestles. Through the mosquito-besieged netted roof can be seen the triangle of the luminous star Vega and its eternal partners Debed and Ardair, soon to be followed by a magnitude of twinkling splendour.
Sparks from our crackling beach fire imitate a brilliant meteor shower above, by becoming miniature falling stars themselves - a lovely metaphor for the Hermetic philosophy, “as above, so below.” The air is so pure that even the rarely seen red and green light pulsing from all stars has become discernible. Phosphorescence on sand and sea forms glittering auras around each footstep as we dash at midnight into the water and begin to tease strands of brilliant jewels around our arms with each stroke. Magic. Myth. Miracle.
Our merry little band of 14 is attempting a kind of hero’s journey by canoe and kayak along Vancouver Island’s West Coast. “A hero is someone who has found or done something beyond the normal range of achievement and experience, someone who has given his life to something bigger than oneself,” says philosopher Joseph Campbell. “But we needn’t risk adventure alone, for the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known. We have only to follow the thread of the hero path, and where we had thought to find an abomination, we find God. Where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves. Where we had thought to travel outward, we will come to the centre of our own existence. And where we had thought to be alone, we will be with all the world.”
And so we shall journey outward by canoe, inward through yoga. What better way to meditate than through the contemplation of the wonders of nature all around us? We close our eyes as I talk us, in a kind of poetic cadence, through a meditation that is meant to evoke again our individual versions of what we had all experienced together in this land of many myths:
“Creator raven, mischievous benefactor of mankind, chattering with his mate just like a human; or berating a rival with swaggering machismo, as she calms him with soothing garbles; sea lions as big as baby whales, hunting and posturing only metres from our gunwales; eagle mothers teaching terrified offspring to rise from swaying boughs and soar without fear; whales singing and leaping, between faraway islands; powerful fog lady spirit in her canoe, evading sun’s mighty efforts to penetrate her secretive mantle; trees frozen into dapper statues, their flowing hair styled by fierce winds in uniform direction; invigorating early-morning swims, surrounded by piney smells; hot, spore-throwing mosses giving off a myriad of spicy scents; eminently familiar, yet unidentifiable; a sensuous blend well-known from childish romps; as intoxicating as the sight of lime-green leaf underbellies, outlined against a cerulean sky; or the somnambulant sounds, of droning summer insects; or the mystery of water being dimpled by little rings that appear hither and fade yon; formed by unseen forces, fish, dragonfly, bubbling gasses, or perhaps our thoughts; as we plow through liquid gold, and part the gentle waves undulating from passing kayaks; to get purchase on pebbled shore and flop against steep rock with outstretched arms; breathing hard, as drops shudder off us like rain on a window pane; crucifers for the moment; until we droop in exhaustion onto the redolent soil to rest.”
“Wow,” exclaims one young wag into the reverent silence, “and I thought I was just camping!” With that, the hitherto solemn group breaks into the kind of laughter that just doesn’t want to stop.
“But how can you best do a relaxing yoga pose or two in those tippy canoes?” an older woman asks when silence returns.
“Very carefully,” I giggle and the crowd roars again. Oh, how the universe loves that sound.
“Shoulder shrugs, the cow head pose, arm stretches, neck rolls and shrugs, but not much else,” I add kindly, remembering how I nearly dumped us two aging amateurs into unfathomable depths, just by turning around suddenly in the bow.
No, much better to practise one’s yoga on the beach after a long day of paddling. The chest expander, if neck and shoulder muscles are sore. The tree, the better to feel Mother Nature’s restorative powers. The sun salutations, with thanks for a miraculous day. The warrior, to strengthen aching knees. The dog, to ease cramped muscles. Followed, once more, by a cleansing swim.
“Bathing in the sea while the sun is setting strengthens both body and spirit,” say the Kwakiutl.
While the Cree pray: “May the water never dry up; may the air never disappear; may the Earth never die; may the sun never diminish; may the mighty, mysterious spirit power never stop to provide us with His blessing.”
Kareen Zebroff’s classic, revised book, The ABC of Yoga (Foulsham
title: A Gentle Introduction to Yoga), as well as her Yoga-Over-40
video, may be ordered from her website www.kareenzebroff.com
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