Muladhara, the root chakra, closes itself tight, nothing may come in, nothing out. Yes there’s a trade off, don’t hope to open your bowels more than once a week, but just think what might creep in if you open up – insidious guilt, the urge to never sit still, always make things (yourself) better, silent invitations from others to eat their feelings for them and return it, neatly digested.
Swadhisthana, the sacral chakra, when balanced is about pleasure, sexuality, creativity. Just think of the times when you felt a pull towards someone, a throbbing need. Just think of how you’d get to a certain breathless point, and their touch would turn from electric to a crawling formication. How you’d freeze, endure, lest you upset them, thinking of others even in that moment.
Manipura, solar plexus, digestion, power – think of how this rocks like a boat in a storm – how you accept microaggressions quietly, politely, then at other times unleash a torrent on a hapless shop assistant, your gullet burning with acid and regurgitated food. How the shame then crawls up from muladhara to smother any remaining fire, how comfort, love, sits oily and heavy in your belly for days and days.
Anahata, the heart chakra, is like a lighthouse beacon that cannot rotate. Its compassion is directed entirely outwards, and the inner voice is a screaming hag, reminding you of every misdemeanour, including that time when you were ten and you refused the girl next door a lolly, including that time when you were fifteen and you stole your friend’s makeup, including that time when you were twenty and you slept with the friend of the guy you were really in love with. But sometimes, the compassion you put out into the world comes back. Someone cups your face, hushes you, tells you you are okay just as you are. The lighthouse beacon creaks on its axis, unpracticed, but its warmth reaches you, just for a minute.
Vishuddha, the throat chakra, is about your voice, your ability to say “no”. Remember the hours in the therapist’s chair, where she coached your vocal cords, showed you the correct mouth and tongue position to say the word. How she delighted in you when you finally got there. Remember how you said that word, flinging it out the window like confetti, delighting in the ability to keep the many-fingered guilt demon away. And now, feel how the mouth reshapes itself into an open smile, how the word you wish to fling into the world is a resounding “yes”.
Ajna, the third eye, is your intuition. Can you feel how this opens now, a fearless Cyclops, how it sees the world so clearly, how everyone is just trying their best, even the person who mispronounces your name, even the person who pushes away your kindness. Can you feel how ajna sees you also, how you are gloriously flawed, in the way that only you can be, and how this is precious and wild and just what the world needs.
Sahasrara, the thousand-petalled crown chakra, feel it unfurl in the glow of the sun, feel the deep connection to all the consciousness in this universe. Feel how your love reaches them as theirs reaches you, and feel how we are as mighty and meaningless as ants, but we must march on anyway. And feel how the balance in the universe tilts slightly when you can love yourself even just a little bit.
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