Yoga: Divinity

Last year, I became interested in yoga as a resource for exercise and fitness. After participating in it for some months, someone shared an insightful video with me, which explored the roots and original purposes of yoga. I learned that not only does yoga have demonic influences and idol-worship routines built into it, but it also plays a huge part in new age ideology and the 'all-is-one,' 'everything-is-god' worldview. I decided that yoga wasn't for me anymore. I don't judge Christians who can do it 'just for the exercise,' but I know that there are other things I can do that don't include prostrating myself in positions that were once considered submissive postures to demons!

Interestingly, I wrote this poem while I was still practicing yoga. This particular poem explores the confusing solution that new age proponents give for spiritual issues. Their approach to finding peace and value is far fetched from our Biblical understanding! Instead of seeking a perfect, holy, separate God, the new age ideology (and therefore yoga) believes that the mind creates reality and everything is God. Thus, there is a lot of mystical, obscure seeking to become 'one' with the universe, transcend the self, and absorb into the overarching 'Light' and 'Thing' that is God. This poem focuses on how a yogi might look for solace in nature and the mysteries of creation.

Yoga and the new age worldview are fascinating, absurd, and sadly prevalent in our culture today. I hope this poem gives a glimpse of what many people around us undergo when trying to deal with the darkness inside of them. Pray that God would open their eyes to see his Truth and Glory in the face of Jesus Christ.

If you are interested in the video I saw, or other resources about the new age worldview, let me know! I would love to share them with you.

Innards groping, empty,

grinding dry on dry

and nothing falls

but silent flakes

of soul.

Quiet cup of darkness,

broken with plinking drops

so slow--

pulsing rings dilating,

like shuddering light,

paralyzing.

I groan,

all this contracted searching

and ceaseless dripping:

nothing in here.

Out there?

Simple moon, crescent-edges

bloody slice skin

I gasp

Haze-sputtered sky all

flecked purple full--

just twilight.

Crunch of billion atoms underfoot,

smell earthen floor below,

gape at trees. The world.

Feel small, unimportant.

Don't create. (Remember the dripping?)

Just come here

and learn

to disappear.