Kundalini Yoga

'Aerobic' yoga at 6am? All right.

This week's major new thing was Kundalini yoga, a variational, meditative and often-aerobic form of yoga that I'd only learned about a few months ago. My friend Lisa had mentioned the class before, and she'd been getting really into it recently – talking about rising early, and kriyas, and feeling great. So when she invited me to join her for Friday's early class, I was enthusiastic.

Actually, I'm an exercise junkie, somewhat addicted to bouts of more intense activity. I think of yoga as something that calms you down, zens you out. Brings out your goofy, chanting side. Shines your light, makes you one with the Oneness, and all that.

Yoga, to me? Good stuff, but something I've always considered a soft supplement to delightful, adrenaline-pumping, wear-you-out action.

Still, I'm open. I've taken a few yoga classes in the past several years, given them hearty thumbs-up. And gosh, for thousands of people worldwide, yoga happens as a matter of course. It has to happen daily, as naturally as taking a gulp of water.

There's a power in yoga that draws all these people, power that I want to tap.

Plus, I'd been told Kundalini could be 'different' from more traditional yoga forms. I'd heard it described as 'a great workout,' 'empowering and unexpected.' 'A mixed bag.' Hey, I love surprises. Bring on the Oneness.

Yep. Even if my sleeping pattern seemed off this week because of early work days, and I was already worn out - even if I was still awake, perusing Google Reader at midnight-30, early on Friday morning, I was intent on making it to 6am yoga.

And I did. I pedaled through the chill, dark morning to the studio, unrolled a yoga mat, breathed in, slowed down. And I dug all 1.25 hours of the class. Kneeling, stretching, squatting, waving, pulsating, strengthening our 'third eyes.'

This Kundalini session wasn't the same kind of active as a 45-minute run, but we were on. We moved, breathed and tested our strength. Two minutes of this move, four minutes of that. There was even a full four minutes of eyes-closed dancing to the Black Eyed Peas, with the small class composed of Lisa and a middle-aged man in white linen pants shaking their hips next to me.

At some point, our yogi mentioned that we were focusing energy on our frontal lobes. Not something you get from every yoga session, I venture. And at the end, we sang along to a ballad-like prayer track and committed to shining our lights on everyone around us.

After all this, I felt limber, silly and happy.

Kundalini was challenging–and invigorating. I'd do it again. Until then, watch out for my light. I'll totally flashbulb you.