I have been searching for early signs of here. The Spring Peepers are chirping outside after dark and the birds are chattering during the day. In Hindu mythology, birds can be a link to the heavenly realm. Several of their gods employ them as their vehicles, so it comes as no surprise that a number of asanas are named for avian creatures. Brahma rides a swan or wild goose. Vishnu’s vehicle is Garuda, a beast with the head, wings, beak and talons of an eagle, and a human body and limbs.
This week’s class opens with another Rumi poem in which he links our every opening and contraction to the coordinated movement bird wings.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes./ If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed. /Your deepest presence is in every small contraction and expansion, /the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as bird wings.
This poem invites us to expand and contract with the pulse of our breath and our gestures. We warm up by lifting and lowering our wings (arms and elbows) and feeling our rib cages stretch and condense with our movement. This simple experience leads us into Wah!’s Four-Part Broken Breath and then abdominal lifts, a seasonal gut churning and cleansing action. The vibrational buzzing of our lips, brrrrr, weaves through the class reminding us to exhale and to relax our facial muscles, especially our jaws.
Once our minds feel light and humming we move into standing balances inspired by the eagle and the crane or stork. Our vinyasa emphasizes soft swan-like gestures. Coming to the floor we return to our breath and to our abdominal muscles as we breathe into the floor to raise our legs.
In a A Wing and a Prayer ,a Yoga Journal article I saved from ‘08, Richard Rosen describes a mantra meditation based on the Sanskrit words for Brahma’s swan or wild goose vehicle, hamsa, and the mantra, soham, which translates as “This am I” or “I am That”. Soham sums up the basic message of the Upanishads (the ancient Hindu texts that form the basis of Vedanta, India’s most influential philosophy). Paraphrasing Rosen, this cryptic mantra acknowledges the aspiration to merge the individual self, aham, with the universal, cosmic Self, so. To quote him: “Tradition says that at a certain stage of practicing this mantra, you will experience this oneness and the syllables will naturally reverse to ham sa (the swan). At that point you become the paramahamsa, or supreme swan, who soars where mortals can never go. Meditative attention to your breath, then, can serve as a vehicle for your own deliverance.”
We end the class following our breath in Sivasana, listening carefully to the sibilant sa sound on the inhalation and the aspirate ha sound on the exhalation. How do you hear the syllables? As hamsa, where your breath is your bird mount soaring to the heavens? Or as soham, where it is the bridge joining your individual self with the Self?
At bedtime, after a few deep breaths I find this meditation more interesting than counting sheep as I drift off to sleep. My breath becomes the gentle swish of bird wings.