Hot Buttered Epiphanies

For the record, not my term.

This is Havi Brooks' description of what can be produced by her Shiva Nata non-sucky yoga practice.

I adore Havi. More about that later.

But even though I have been following her blog for the better part of a year, I never clicked on the little box depicting a multi-armed woman graphic. Not until about a month ago... just because I ran out of other interesting things to do on my computer (no offense Havi.) It was then I read the descrip of what this Dance of Shiva stuff was all about. And watched the video demo.

Oh. My. How utterly weird. And wacky. And yet I had to watch it again. And again. When I went to my husband's family reunion that weekend, I had to show them the video. And they were like, wow, how weird. But we couldn't look away.

Shelved it for the time being until I read a review about it on a new-found twitter friend's blog. This being in the midst of a previous post's funkiness. The time was right, it would seem, to try something new.

Maybe a testament to the power of this thing, that I got some epiphanies hitting me before the package has even been delivered.. or maybe a culmination of a number of other things I've been working with. No matter. Funk be gone for the time being and that's a good thing.

In the meantime, Havi has delivered a super-secret download of prep info while I wait for the dvd's to arrive. In addition to once again confirming that I believe Havi to be my alter-ego, I got so giddy just reading the description of what this wacky arm and leg flailing practice can do for the brain, that I burst out laughing. And cried a little. Because what Havi specializes in is destuckification. Meaning helping us silly humans break free of the patterns that keep us from creating our big Thing. Sound familiar? You simply must read about this process for yourself as she explains it a heck of a lot better than the job I've been trying to do to anyone who'd stand still.

I'm excited, okay? I can't wait to make an arm-and-leg-flailing ass out of myself, which as you will read, is the whole point of the thing.

Pass the butter.