Inner Vision

The weekend before I left Bali I conducted my second blind fold yoga workshop. A bean of a idea which had grown from the surrounding depth of yoga knowledge, which had left me feeling uprooted. What could I contribute to the richness of the expertise around me? Throughout my time in Bali the niggle of guilt had been tingling in my belly. In a spiritual haven, surrounded by novel opportunities for self exploration and examination of tricky egos, I fought to examine my need to pursue social work, while feeling isolated from the 'real' world of suffering which I choose to submerge myself in for so many other months of the year. Surely, it need not be a choice? Surely we all have a part to play in alleviating suffering? And not just in perfecting our own internal thought patterns? I reprimanded myself countless times for 'judging' the internal journeys of those around, while finding clues to the obstacles which prevented me from following the same path. Pressing 'pause' on such confusing judgements I still couldn't deny that I felt pulled to Kolkata. My yogi friends would reassure me that this was the path which the universe had laid out for me, friends from university would argue it was my political training and dedication to a philosophy of a universal humanity. My father would most probably say that it is my 'nature'. Different or one united explanation? Either way, I wanted to try to bring the reality of too many people in Kolkata to friends in Paradise.

The “Inner Sense” blindfold workshop was an attempt to try and share a little of what Deepa taught me. An opportunity for yoga practitioners to explore a novel style of yoga – yoga without eyes. Remembering the incredible lessons of trying to see the world through Deepa's incredibly sensitised hearing and touch, I advertised the workshop as “the practice of yoga with a different set of senses and courage.” The aim was to provide a space for practitioners to explore movement without visual stimulation. Our innate inner senses such as our natural orientation and kinesthetic sense often lays dormant, overridden in our very 'visual' world. By removing sight one is forced to be completely present. There is no space for day dreaming. Every sound is magnified, and every movement seems like an enormous brush against a unknown limitless surrounding spaciousness. During both of the workshops, it was a challenge to create a stimulating experience without falling into a emotional recollection of Deepa's fight. A hard balance but one which appeared to be surprisingly well received.

I began with some sound games. Listen. No talking. Just hearing. Repeating. Copying. Confusion? Perhaps. Then came the challenge of stepping off the yoga mat. Exploring the familiar space of the studio, but this time being guided only by outstretched hands and the sounds of other soft footsteps. Amazed by those who immediately jumped into the unknown, while trying to entice the fearful to take a few more unsure steps. Introducing the energy of some African beats seemed to stir up the levels of courage, and before long tentative strides transformed into jumps, sways and finally dancing. Developing senses. Feeling...“Sharks utilise their electro-magnetic field which enables them to sense other life forms around”. Experiencing a new freedom in the familiar; feeling a new dynamism in the spaces around and ultimately allowing a new sensitivity to the other energies sharing that space.

Next came Trust. Pairing up of participants as when blinded even good friends became strangers. Alienated from sight and unable to communicate identities but surrendering to blindly follow verbal instructions. George MacDonald wisely suggested that “to be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.” Indeed it was interesting watching as participants supported one another through my spoken instructions. Leaning back into space while holding hands to defy gravity. “The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson). Laughter softening the feelings of loneliness which were to come during the solo asanas, where people struggled to follow potentially confusing instructions, and fought frustrations of failure. Afterall, there is no wrong way to move, rather just listen to what your body needs. “The biggest barrier to living a creative life is the fear of being wrong.” But preconceived 'rights' and 'wrongs' still created an article level of judgement. Invisible competition.

The flow of sun salutations. “Thank for the sun – which Deepa occasionally feels”. The variability of rhythm hiding the synchronization of steps and stretches. An awareness of our kinesthetic sense; the sense which provides the brain with information on the relative positions of the parts of the body. Allowing us to 'know' where hands and feet are moved – even though we can't see the movement. Breath increasing during the balancing exercises, as those adept with their eyes opened felt the debilitating sensations of locating their internal sense of orientation. Deepa didn't lean to walk until she was four.

Intense gratitude for the talents of Others – to Uma for her vividly visually stimulating 'yoga nidra' – guiding the practitioners safely into their own imaginations. To Daphne, for her beautiful and emotive Kirtan. Whose vision and support has been eerily pre-empted by her previous dedications to Mother Teresa and dreams of filming in Kolkata. Her voice broke the verbal fast through call and response singing, providing a space for those otherwise hesitant to join the confident pitches of other singers; no room for self-consciousness underneath a blindfold, only for the liberating rise of connecting harmonies. Hoping - Deepa will learn to speak this year.

The unveiling in front of a small display of old photos – soon to be renewed. Pictures speak a thousand words. Relief, tears, smiles. An incredible gratitude to those who facilitated the workshops, to those who allowed their sight to be restricted for two and a half hours, and for those who have given me so much power and encouragement. “Long may our eyes See the Sun!”