By Zita Vasilisinova
I was flying with my arms flapping up and down. They were tired but I reminded myself that birds don't get tired of flying.
I was soaring high above my home town. I saw the center of the city with its medieval houses and churches. I saw the road to my parents’ house, I saw my childhood home and my parents working in their garden. I flew past them to the mountains just outside the city. This stretch of forest covered mountains was a place I missed the most. I felt as if it still held a piece of me.
It's been 10 years since I've been back—10 years since I felt at home, comfortable in knowing that I belong.
My arms kept flapping when I felt warm tears roll down my cheeks, uncontrollably.
But...I wasn't alone. This was a yoga class.
The teacher encouraged us to continue moving our arms with the music. And what music it was—heavenly doesn't begin to describe it (Singh Kaur’s Rakhe Rakhanahar).
I looked at the teacher but she was looking somewhere else. I better close my eyes again, I thought. The tears kept coming down without a sound.
During this meditation, I was reminded of the years of sadness and longing for my homeland; the years of living as an illegal alien as if I was less of a human.
Today, I allowed myself to feel, to release, to let go of control and my heart melted.
Now 6 years later, I am a yoga teacher as well. Students cry in my classes from time to time and I know exactly how they feel. I call it the tears of relief. These are tears that carry out the years of struggle and pain from the body.
Crying in a yoga class is one of the most healing experiences. Don't feel embarrassed if it ever happens to you. It's a form of God’s love. The divine is lovingly taking away from you the old armor because you are about to grow way beyond it.
Get ready for transformation.
Zita Harkaran Vasilisinova is a Kundalini Yoga teacher, life coach and a mom living in Brooklyn, NY. In her work she strives to spread light, higher consciousness and love to people everywhere.