Yoga philosophy is mind-blowingly intoxicating and stimulating.
It may seem rather wacky and whimsical to the Western mindset and upbringing, but a brief overview is needed on one aspect to give background to my current debacle.
Now I don’t mean to humour-ise and simplify such a vast and intricate philosophical framework, but just so you get the gist: pretty much, there is ultimate energy dormant within you called Kundalini. Kundalini is depicted in the form of a snake, and dwells in the perineum (i.e, the anus) of each person. At first I was rather disturbed but the notion of a slithering reptile wrapped round my rectum, but now I’ve come to terms with the concept. It is only practicing yogic techniques and opening the nadis, chakras and flow of prana (just go with it) that Kundalini can be roused to bust up through the bod to the “doorway” at the crown of the head.
Confused? I was too, until I devoured multiple books on Yogic doctrines. It’s fascinating. And once you loose the initial sneer of thinking it’s airy-fairy bullshit, it makes a hell of a lot of sense. I am so into it all and it’s making me question and rethink so much archetypal information embedded in my mind.
But there’s just one issue. I’m a diehard Harry Potter fan. Anything that could even slightly be linked to the Boy Who Lived is automatically done so by my brain. So there (literally) lies the root (so many chakra puns) of the problem: the snake.
I can’t help it. Every time “Kundalini” is referred to in class, uttered in meditation or brought up in practice, I snigger. Images of Nagini, conversations in Parseltongue and scenes of Voldemort playback at full force. This in turn gives rise to thoughts of Wormtail, then Ron, then my greatest Potter Pondering of all time: if Fred and George had the Marauder’s Map for so many years, how was it that they never clicked on that every night their brother was going to bed cuddled around a man named Peter Pettigrew? Major hole Joanne, major hole.
Usually at this point if I’m lucky, I catch myself and go back to focusing on whichever part of my kosha (body) I’m meant to be visualising. I can usually steady myself for a fair while, unless Kundalini uncoils comes up. Then it’s back to square one. (Or should that be platform 9 and 3/4?)
No matter how hard I try to push HP thoughts away, there is a Qudditch match demanding to be held forefront in my forehead. It’s quite the pickle when those around are all up in their third eye, and I’m trying to obliterate all thoughts of Hagrid, Hedwig, and weighing up whether owl post would be superior to muggle post in terms of mailing overseas? It’s like my scar is prickling.
The woes of being in wizarding wonderment. It’s a curse.