Style: Hatha
Teacher: Shantidas
Studio: Sivananda Vedanta Montreal

I miss Ashram life. Hanging around on this cold, dreary gray day in Montreal, I lazily contemplated where I should do my practice. In the middle of the decision making, I felt my mind drift off into a daydream, imagining my time spent at the Sivananda Ashram. Life was so simple, so peaceful. I wish I was back there. It was then I remembered that the original Sivananda yoga center was first created in Montreal. In 1959, under the instruction of Swami Sivananda, Swami Vishnu-devananda traveled to North America to spread the word of yoga. It was decided that the population in the west was finally ready for the teachings. Vishnu-devananda eventually settled in Montreal and opened the center on St. Laurent street. After a while, he noticed that the Montrealers frequently traveled to the Laurentians for vacation, and soon after he ventured out into the mountains himself. It was there he created the first Sivananda Ashram, the very place I spent the weekend a month ago. Since then, Sivananda has gone international, with Ashrams and yoga centers all over the world. The very first center still stands as it did way back in 1959, and today I decided to check it out.

Walking in through through the front the door, I'm immediately hit in the heart chakra by a warm nostalgia. The same fragrances of incense linger in the air, the same photos of the two founding Swamis hang on the walls. I even ran into a Chilean yogi I met there who was calling the Ashram home at the time. The class began with the various breathing techniques and I felt that familiar peace of mind penetrating my being. Moving into the postures, listening to the instruction, I became aware of the historic significance of the place. This was where it all began. From here, Vishnu-devananda traveled the globe, spreading the teachings of yoga, embarking on a life-altering adventure that would not only change his life, but the entire world as well.

After the timeless experience I've come to the decision that, as soon as the snow finally melts and the Sun starts to warm up the planet, I'm going back to the Ashram. I can't wait.

Style: Hatha
Teacher: Shambhu
Studio: Sivananda Ashram

Out into a morning bathed in darkness, we began our silent walk. Every day at the Ashram begins with Satsang - meditation, chanting and philosophic discussion. Today is different. Today we move in silence, out into the woods. Walking the long winding country roads, the world still asleep, there was no sound in the air aside from the crunching of snow beneath the different sets of shoes. I could feel the cold creeping in all around me, but remained safe and snug under warm layers of fabric. The trees were black shadows, peering out at us, wondering who these strange quiet creatures were. Entering a clearing, we all stopped and stood silently as the sun rose. It was invisible in the grey winter skies, but made its presence known as light began to slowly wash over the wilderness. Turning around, we began the long walk back to the Ashram. As the world around me slowly came alive, the dark trees regained their rich, forest-green tones. Sleepy birds began to chirp and the pure white was returned to the blanketed snow, wisps of icing-sugar flakes drifting lazily through the winter air. Placing one foot in front of the other out here in the wild has got me thinking of a pristine planet, pre human footprint. My mind wanders further, wondering if this truly is our original home. Sometimes, looking up at the stars, I can't help but feel like we're from someplace else. Why do I get this feeling that the town of my birth is actually somewhere out there, light-years away, deep in the vast expanse of outer space, far beyond the reach of human imagination?

Back on the road, Sivananda is disappearing behind me, dissolving into past experience. My intention was to stretch out in the passenger seat on the ride home, reflecting on the weekend and writing about it. As it happens, I'm at a loss for words. I can only stare out at the passing horizon, quietly observing the outside world in motion. Most of what has transpired has yet to fully sink in. Closing my eyes and leaning back in my chair, I feel sleep start to lurk around me. I let go and fade out of 3D physical existence into something beyond, something I never return with any memory of.

Style: Hatha
Teacher: Sivdas Chaitanya
Studio: Sivananda Ashram

My mind and body betray me. Gently waking up to the distant reverberating of a bell, my eyes slowly regain their focus and I remember where I am. Transitioning from sleep to waking life with no alarm clock is a welcomed luxury. Showering and dressing into warm clothes, Meredith and I make our way out into the dark morning, back to the Krishna temple.

Last night was my first experience of Satsang. As we entered the temple we were greeted by exotic aromas straying from burning incense. The temple looked exactly how I might imagine it: carefully decorated altars, statues of deities and gods, and pictures on the walls of the founding Guru's, Swami Sivananda and Swami Vishnu-Devananda. Places were set out on the floor, consisting of a small rug, a pillow and a book with the title "Kirtan: Mantras and Chants". I notice a woman in an orange robe bowing down, forehead to the floor, angled toward the main altar with a life size flute-playing statue of Krishna, and I do the same. When in Rome... After everyone silently took their places we entered into meditation. Sitting with my legs crossed, I closed my eyes. The instructions were to focus on the space between the eyebrows, the inhaling and exhaling of the breath, as well as inwardly repeating a mantra. If we didn't have a personal mantra, we could focus on the sound and vibration of Om.

As time began to bleed with infinity my mind was slowly growing restless. Focusing on my breathing and silently Om-ing, I continued to calmly and kindly reset my focus. Again and again my mind would burst into theatrics and one-way conversation, struggling against my attempts to control it. After endless back and fourth, my inner world slowly started chilling out. The success, however, was very short lived. A subtly increasing numb pain had slowly been building in my crossed-legs, completely unaccustomed to the position. Now as the battle was increasing in magnitude I slowly started to lose my grip and my mind used the window of opportunity to blurt out an opinionated rant about everything and nothing. It's astonishing and perplexing that the majority of modern mankind has little to no control over their own thoughts. I'm subtly fidgeting as my attention wavers uncontrollably and I struggle to keep my lower back from collapsing and curling over into an exaggerated slouch. I experience desperate relief as we're given our cues to return to earth. Painfully unwinding my legs and crossing them the opposite way, we opened our book of sanskrit writings and proceeded into the chanting segment. This is another first for me, and I found myself fending off a self-conscious stage fright. Closing my eyes and humming along with the melodies, I drifted away with the hypnotic music emanating from the harmonium, pakawaj drums and karatal hand cymbals. Everything about this place is other-worldy.

Outside the temple doors early this morning, we pick up where we left off last night, diving back into a meditation. Now my legs and hips are burning and my mind concocts hellish visualizations of being shocked to death strapped to the electric chair. I feel a cold sweat on the back of my neck and a panic rising up my spine. I'm about to lose control and possibly burst into tears or uncontrollable psychotic laughter. I feel like I'm bordering on schizophrenia. Breathing in as deeply as I can, I blast out a silent ear-shattering internal Om, drowning out my inner chaos. It's scary. It's scary, but with some dedicated practice the chance to rise above the chatter exists. Still, it is pretty unnerving how intensely my mind and body rebel a few short moments after I request stillness. It's as if they fear for their own well-being, terrified of their own demise. To keep any change from occurring they're willing to lash out, setting me on fire.

Later in the yoga studio I feel relieved to be back in my comfort zone. At this point, even with its inherent struggle, yoga is safe and familiar territory. I twist, bend, and stand on my head, distancing myself from this morning's internal altercation. Yoga is mysterious, but pure meditation is far more unknown for me. It's a strange, undiscovered world full of bizarre landscapes and lifeforms.

Style: Hatha
Teacher: Jananadev
Studio: Sivananda Ashram

I could get used to Ashram life. After spending all afternoon reading, hanging out in the library and napping, I eventually make my way to the second yoga class of the day. I take back comments about Hatha being boring and plain. They call this yoga classic Hatha, and it's anything but boring. It's a rigorous sequence containing a four-minute headstand and rivalling the exertion of any Ashtanga or Power class. I'm only back in my room for half an hour before the evening Satsang, and I'm feeling anxious. I'm not really looking forward to sitting cross-legged and making the pilgrimage into the darkness of my inner world. Overall though, that's a lie. I am looking forward to it. It's a new adventure, and an intuitive Jiminy Cricket is perched on my shoulder, whispering in my ear just how unbelievably important and beneficial this process truly is.

Style: Hatha
Teacher: Pierre
Studio: Sivananda Ashram

A place of refuge. On the road to Montreal by 8 am, I'm feeling a host of butterflies migrating with me, keeping up with my car on the highway. I'm not sure whats causing this nervous energy, but it's probably tied in with a fear of the unknown. What am I walking into? A full-fledged cult waiting for their next human sacrifice to arrive for a 3 pm check-in? Luckily I won't be alone. Meredith, my girlfriend, will be with me to share the experience. Arriving in Montreal, I pull up in front of her apartment. I still can't believe I'm doing this.

After an amazing breakfast at a near-by diner in the Plateau, we're back on the road, on our way to the Laurentians. As time drifts into the past, the city recedes and melts away, making way for the rolling hills of the Quebecois countryside. Having some company on this journey is already filling me with relief. About an hour later we're approaching the Ashram and the butterflies are back. Stepping out of my car and looking around, I'm instantly drawn in by the beauty of this place. Stone statues half hidden under fresh white snow stare back at the two newly arrived strangers. After checking in at the reception area, we are told that a yoga class begins in a half hour. After walking down a few hallways, we find our living quarters for the weekend. It's a small room with two single beds, a closet and a window looking out at the frosty wilderness. It also has a washroom with a shower. It's more comfortable then I'd anticipated. Stretching out on my bed and staring at the ceiling, I have a strange feeling, almost like I'm expecting to be here for longer then three days. Moments later I'm drawn back out of my daydream by the sound of a bell ringing in the distance, signalling that the yoga class was about to begin. Changing and grabbing our mats, Meredith and I lock up our room and head to the studio.

Okay. The people here seem fairly normal. The class features a wide age-range, a mix of people who are arriving for the weekend, some who are about leave, and a few who are living at the Ashram. Our teacher started the two hour Hatha series off with thirty minutes of pranayama breathing excercies, including alternate nostril breathing, which was a first. Afterwards we made our way to the dining area where we found a delicious vegetarian meal waiting for us. The food was unbelievable. Eating all we could, once again we're back in our room. As Meredith quietly dozes off, I open my journal and press my pen into the paper, gathering my thoughts. I'm feeling right at home. All my preconceived notions are falling away, leaving me with a clean slate, ready to learn. Soon another bell will sound off and we'll make our way to the Krishna temple for Satsang, the heart of life at the Ashram. I don't know what to expect, but I feel ready.