Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Jasvinder Kaur
Studio: Rama Lotus

The yoga of awareness. After a day of recharging, absorbing sunshine and doing nothing else, I'm ready to get back on the mat. Tonight I'm going through the looking glass, following the white rabbit to another Kundalini yoga. In the world according to Yogi Bhajan, nothing makes sense to me. Up is down, down is up, inside is out. The laws of physics no longer apply. Common sense no longer exists. After I unroll my mat I'm a bewildered combination of Alice and Dorothy, at a tea party with the Hatter and the March Hare. Anyone going too deep with no compass is in danger of getting lost forever in this fairytale land of Oz, never to be seen or heard from again. With that said, I'm off to see the Wizard.

I'm not gonna lie. It's eccentric. At first glance at least it's fairly baffling. First of all if you thought three Om's were bad you've never met Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo. The mantra roughly translates to "I call upon Divine Wisdom" and is usually said with a high degree of enthusiasm. If I didn't mention, it can get a little spiritual. And let's not even get into the Long Time Sun finale. It's a pretty intense cringe-fest. Right now though I'm like a lab technician, studying my reactions under a microscope, noting their nuances and subtleties. Like, what is it to feel awkward? Where does that come from, what's its consistency, its density. I want to understand these chemical reactions, to study their foundation, their source, their growths and offshoots. I see my experience from a third person perspective, my life laid out on a sterilized operating table under glaring white artificial light. I am impersonally dissecting and analyzing my internal combustion.

The kriyas of Kundalini yoga are a far cry from the structured, physical asana practice that most people are used to. The twitching and shaking through the positions, the rapid pace of breath - at first it's both perplexing and indecipherable. It's basically a caterpillar on a mushroom blowing smoke-rings. Admittedly, the further I travel down the rabbit hole of yoga, pranayama and the intricacies of breathing, the less bizarre the kriyas appear. Really they're essentially just rapid exercises that are enhanced when timed with the breath. The freaky side of the story is that they're apparently spontaneous movements that the body might go through of its own volition. Stay with me. With the awakening of the kundalini energy, the body may experience some interesting side effects. Known as kundalini rising, the most commonly used metaphor is to imagine a coiled hose when the water is suddenly and forcefully turned on. It would reel and twist and thrash around. Kind of the same idea. Out of the blue the body could burst into dramatic gestures or vigorous physical theatrics, maybe even accompanied by uncontrolled vocals. It's said to be embarrassing when it happens in public, but that the easiest way through is to let go and surrender to the experience. The choreographed kriyas practiced in kundalini yoga class are said to have been handed down by yogi masters, replicating their own spontaneous bursts that eventually led to their own awakening. From what I understand, it seems like it's the body recalibrating its own energy intake and doing whatever it needs to do physically to allow for access to a higher degree of energy. Maybe it's increasing its own threshold, its own limit on how much energy it can compute. Or something.

The swastika from the other day has been demystified, if only slightly. Thankfully, and contrary to my initial suspicions, it wasn't on display as a socially awkward proclamation of white power. Archaeological evidence of swastika-shaped ornaments dates back to the Neolithic period in Ancient India but have been used by virtually every ancient culture in recorded history. The symbol remains widely used in Indian religions like Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism, and was once commonly used all over much of the world without stigma. Still not totally sure how it fits into the context of yoga, but I have a lot to learn. Entering final savasana I'm half expecting to hear the lollipop kids bust down the door and drag me away, down the yellow brick road in a straight jacket. With a click of my heels the adventure has come to an end. There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Robert Hay
Studio: Rama Lotus

Ready for another dose of the unclassifiable, I'm back at a Saturday morning Kundalini. There is more to reality than the modern consensus allows for. I'm intrigued by that which my mind can't make sense of. I've never experienced a style of yoga so incomparable and uncategorizable. I've never encountered such overt talk of halos, auras, energy fields, you name it. At this point in time my yoga diet consists of either complete inversion attack or the paranormal. I feel myself taking comfort in that which I can't decipher. I'm at home with the strange and peculiar, at ease with reckless talk of magic and possibility.

Yogi Bhajan was the first person in history to teach Kundalini yoga in public despite the taboo that had kept it shrouded in secrecy for centuries. It is still concealed in mystery for me despite my attempts to understand it and I don't seem to mind. It offers a sensory deprivation of sorts, a full immersion that causes my mind to stop for a fraction of a second. It provides a chance to get a head start on my reason and logic so I can keep some distance between us. For now I'm cool with these gasping, breathy, rapid exercises without the need to understand why. I'm keeping the world open to interpretation. Like Hamlet said, "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Meherbani Desrochers
Studio: Rama Lotus

Extraterrestrial yoga. After a series of intensely introspective days spent feeling incurably overwhelmed, I'm in the mood for a change. I've only taken Kundalini yoga a few times but I've learned to expect the unexpected. Tonight I don't know what's in store for me but I'm basking in the mystery, feeling appreciation for the inherent freedom of the unknown. Walking into the Crystal room I'm not sure if I should believe my eyes at first. Decked out in traditional Kundalini regalia, I see the instructor sitting in full lotus on a white animal pelt. Beside her is a massive gong, a bunch of unripe bananas and a picture of a swastika. Alright, let's do this. Bring on the weird.

I hand my class card to the teacher and in exchange she hands me one of the green bananas. Smiling graciously for my unexpected gift, I nod my head and return to my mat. The class starts uneventfully enough as we move through some yoga exercises and a few breathing techniques. Eventually I'm on my back staring at the ceiling and the instructor casually asks us to take out our bananas. Placing my hands in the prayer position with the banana in between, I raise it up into the air. Next I'm supposed to visualize pure love passing from me into the banana, filling it with pure positive energy. Before my mind has a chance to incredulously demand to know why I'm holding this random fruit I cut it off mid-sentence. Instead I bring to mind images from my past, pieces of memory. I imagine my childhood dog, Sadie. She passed away last year but I can remember her beautiful face like I'd seen it this morning. I concentrate on the familiar feeling of unconditional love I felt for her and bring that emotion to the forefront of my consciousness. As I'm overcome with this energy I transfer it into the fruit overhead and soon the sound vibrations of the gong wash over me. This could be the single-most bizarre occurrence of any yoga class I've ever been to, but tonight I'm not letting it faze me. I put my disbelief into suspended animation. I let go of anything preconceived, any suggestions or concerns of the mind. I let myself fall into the experience as fully as possible, releasing all need to understand. My mind insisted that what I was doing was insane and I responded that I wasn't interested in its opinion at this point in time. Afterwards we were reminded to eat our fruit once it's ripened to receive the energetic benefits. Naturally.

After coming out of savasana, I awaken to find out that class isn't exactly over. We are now moving into meditation. As I cross my legs and close my eyes, Meherbani informs us that we will be using a mantra. It's known as the Guru mantra and sounds like "wah-hey gu-ru". The first half is said with volume and the gu-ru is spoken at a near whisper. I was expecting to silently repeat the mantra in my head for a while. I would probably forget as my mind trailed off into some non-related topics and eventually it would meander back, all in the privacy of my own skull. Instead here I am, sitting on the floor with my hands over my head like a teapot. Seconds turn to minutes as I continue to belt out the words. Repeating the mantra out loud forced my concentration to stay frozen like it was caught in oncoming headlights. I could feel it squirming, twisting and reeling, viciously struggling for an escape, but I continued to bombard it with the mantra. Over and over again I chanted the words in unison with the other voices in the room. I'm sure only a few minutes went by but I have no way to be absolutely sure. Time turned endless and nothing existed except me and the sound of my voice. Eventually the chant subsided and we drew in one last deep breath then released it, bringing the experience to an end. Walking out of the room afterwards I was met with some baffled looks from the yogis in the hallway. I couldn't figure out why and I'm still not really sure - Is there something weird about leaving a yoga class clutching a banana?

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Siri Karm Kaur
Studio: Rama Lotus

The first time I went to a Kundalini yoga class I felt like I'd wandered into an alternate dimension. It's every bizarre, wacky yoga stereotype you've ever heard. It's that weird. At least, that's how I felt at the time. Since the last challenge, I have yet to take a Kundalini class. I'd like to say it's because I've been so focused on other methods I haven't had the chance, but when I boil it down I know I've been avoiding it. From my minimal exposure to the style, it strikes me as a yoga in a world of it's own, distinctly different then anything else. However, the more I learn about the world around me, its history and its mysteries, I've come to the realization that nothing is too weird. Truth is often stranger then fiction.

Today marks my third Kundalini class ever, and to be honest I still can't explain it. Today I did my best to arrive with a clear, open mind. The movements are quick, jerky, spastic in nature. The breath work is short, gasping, almost bordering on hyperventilating at times. There is a lot of chanting and singing, sometimes dancing. It's strange. Kundalini devotees often wear flowing white robes and head-wraps.

From what I understand, Kundalini energy resides within everyone, described as pure creative potential, inner knowledge, awareness and evolved consciousness. It is conceptualized as a coiled serpent lying dormant at the base of the spine. Once this energy is awakened it begins to rise up the spinal cord, activating different chakras and bringing with it new insights and understanding, eventually bursting through the top of your head and connecting you with the cosmos. Whoa. I'm actually at a loss for words. It's so fringe, so different... I haven't fully digested it. Not even close. Some preliminary online research unearthed talk of adverse effects from prematurely or suddenly awakened Kundalini energy, described as a "spiritual emergency". I'll admit it, I'm bewildered. I think to truly form an opinion on the style I need more exposure to it. Over the next few weeks it's my intention to mix in a few more sessions while at the same time researching deeper into its history. The best I can do for now is leave you with words from the closing song that have been stuck in my head on repeat since I left the studio. May the long time Sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you, guide your way on. Word.