The joys of yoga

The sound of Belles has been ringing in my ears today. For some reason, I feel particulary keen to explain how I devised my blogsphere name. Maybe it's because it's all so recent, or maybe it's because I have a residual sense of Catholic guilt at my titular plagarism? It's true that there is nothing wholly original in a writer's world, but I have benefitted from creative inspiration taken from a fellow Buddhist and a yoga teacher/ singer called Belle.

She was lucky enough to be called such at birth, so it was only a natural progression for her to morph into Yoga Belle in later years. You'll agree it doesn't take a huge leap of imagination to see where I'm coming from.

Which brings me seemlessly to the famous double act of yoga and Buddhism. It's a classic cheese and wine,rhurarb and custard kinda deal. They're simply perfectly complimentary. It only seems natural, well to my symmetry seeking mind anyway, that the disciplines dovetail each other so perfectly - both centuries old, spiritually attuned and designed to train the mind and body.

I find I'm yearning to return to yoga. For now, it's only the teacher, venue and time slot that are sadly missing. I know I had the incredible fortune of meeting a consumate Sivanada yoga teacher previously, and to be taught by the best as my introduction. I remember revelling in her twice weekly classes, gaining a more lithesome post-partum body, and a much-needed non-alcoholic escape from new motherhood. But then she disappeared, almost in a blink of a salutation, to meerily follow her destiny running retreats and teaching new teachers.

I now realise she had a deeply Buddhist approach. All her centering and breathing was it's very own form of chanting. We would be finding our own personal space on those purple sticky mats, and tuning into the core of ourselves. It wasn't just the skillfully led postures that were working their magic. She also instinctivley knew that she was ministering all our senses. So we were treated to the balm of her voice and music, and the soothingly sweet smell of her oils. Her smile was serene and high-wattage. Her body was a temple. Her classes were an oasis.

There must be other inspired yogis of her calibre out there, and I shall quietly and carefully maintain a look-out. Or I could sign up with my kindred and sister spirit YogaBelle. But I'd have to face my guilt at name-borrowing, and I'm not that sure of my copyright law or Buddhist etiquette...

Nam myoho renge kyo