I was also a decade older (shocking), and exploring the other side of my yoga practice, having finally understood its role as more than just a bum-tamer. My next run-in was a decade later, probably because the memory of that first class had receded far enough into the haziest bits of my recollection that I was open to even considering it again.
Not surprising then that I didn’t think much of kundalini yoga after that, and when I had it mentioned to me I’d glaze over, remembering only that first underwhelming experience and writing it off as yoga for geriatrics. I think a lot of the people who were in the class came in with similar expectations, and left similarly aggrieved, because the class was dropped off the gym schedule not long after, replaced by another Body Pump class (which I went to, much happier). I left disappointed at not having even broken a sweat, resentful about having wasted an hour on a ‘workout’ that clearly wasn’t a workout.
Ong namo guru dev namo origins series#
I mean, how different could it really be? ‘Probably a gentler sort of hatha.’ Instead I found a big man in a white kurta who led us through a seated series of manta and gentle arm…waving. It was at a Virgin Active gym in London, oddly enough, and I walked in entirely unfamiliar with this arm of the practice. I also remember my first kundalini yoga class.
As it became a regular practice the bending and stretching got deeper, and the fidgeting in savasana became more infrequent, basically. It was pretty straightforward: go to class, bend, stretch, be a little blown away by how simple-looking things were harder than expected, fidget in savasana with one eye open to see what everybody else is doing, roll up mat, and leave.
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