The Beauty of Morning Practise

We live in a quiet area of Mysore, called Gokulam. Quiet in Indian terms, that is. The honking and the loud car, truck, scooter racing continues late into the night. Last night the usual traffic adventures were accompanied by a stray cat chorus which seemed to have rehearsed all major arias of Verdi's masterpieces, followed by the neighborhood dogs angrily dismissing the quality of the harmonies performed.  Not sure if it ever calmed down, or if my ears just got accustomed to it, but I seem to have dosed off towards midnight.  I kept on waking up throughout the night to a distant dog fight, or an occasional honking (who are they honking at!? - I am sure the street is absolutely empty) finally to give in and turn off my alarm at 4.25am. I was ready for the practise.

Morning is my favorite time of the day in Mysore.  As the four-legged inhabitants are taking a morning doser before their daliy activities will have to resume, the place seems to be totally quiet. Not even the scooter drivers passing me silently without their headlights (!) have the energy to honk. I walk about 500 meters to the coconut stand where I am picked up by a rickshaw and driven accross town to Lakshmipuram,  to Sheshadri's shala.  The ride takes about 15 minutes and as we bump along Mysore roads, I watch the city slowly awaken. 

The chai kiosks are boiling their famous wake-up elixir, the fruit and veggie stalls are being loaded with the day's offerings, the flower stands are being prepared for the fresh pickings of the day.  People, alone and in groups walk silently on the wide roads, heading to work, or just taking a morning stroll, who knows.  Cows are lazily moving about in search of their morning meal.

The students are to arrive about 30 minutes before we start the practise, so that everyone can settle in and take the time to mentally prepare for the practise. As I enter the shala, my teacher Sheshadri is always sitting in a deep meditation after having completed his own morning practise. He is totally motionless.  His son Hareesh sits on the opposite side of the room.

We quietly settle in and follow the lead. As I close my eyes, I listen to the birds outside the window.  A distant wake up call from a rooster.  Fresh air fills the room and light starts to slowly seap in.

Suddenly a quiet but powerful OM vibrates through the room, echoed by a heartful response from the group. And another OM, this time louder and stronger. And the last. We repeat. After a beautifully sounding Sanskrit chant, I have yet to decipher, Sheshadri leads the class throught the first few Sun Saltuations, the rest is up to us.

As I go through the yogic dance of saluting the raising sun, I can't help but feel that this is one of the most natural things to do,  float with the rhythms of nature, feeling as much a part of it as we humans are meant to be.   I don't feel sleepy, I don't feel tired, the sun has risen and I am ready to seize the day. 

 

Note: We recently asked Sheshadri why we are meant to practise early in the morning (besides the sun saluting ritual).  He explained that the energy in the early morning hours is most suited for yoga practise.The air has more oxygen and is cleaner and the mind is more calm and pure.