75
may/june 2018
yogajournal.com.au
“Early Maltese society was likely a
powerful matriarchy dominated
by priestesses, female leaders,
and mother goddesses.”
After exploring Hagar Qim and
another nearby temple, Mnajdra, I
found a grassy perch overlooking the sea
so I could meditate. As I closed my eyes,
I felt an invigorating vibration wash over
me—the same kind of charge I feel
when I visit the Buddhist enclave in
Crestone, Colorado, or when I hiked to
Gomukh, the headwaters of the sacred
Ganges River, in India. And as I really
leaned into that vibration, sitting there
with my eyes closed beside those ancient
temples and silently repeating my given
mantra, I realised what I was
experiencing was not far from what I’d
experienced in that wooden pew in the
cathedral a few days earlier—where I
had found myself instinctively repeating
Hail Marys like an old, familiar mantra.
In that moment, it was clear that one
of the reasons I practice yoga and
meditation—arguably the ultimate
reason I practice—is to experience
shakti, the divine, cosmic energy that
moves through all of us. As a kid
growing up Catholic, I was taught to find
that energy through prayer. As yoga
classes came to replace Sunday mass, I
began looking to shakti’s many forms in
the Hindu pantheon, such as Parvati,
Durga, and Kali—powerful goddesses
whom I could call into my practice to
help me tap the universal source of
energy, power, and creativity.
Here in Malta, these megalithic
structures seemed to offer proof that
we’ve been doing this forever. No matter
the structure, whether a stone temple,
church, or yoga studio, humans have
sat—together, or alone, with the
Source—in harmony with, and in
awe of, the divinity running through
our hearts, bodies, and minds. It is how
we feel connected: to ourselves, to
each other, to the place we live, and
ultimately, to the beauty and wonder
of the Universe.
Opposite page: St. John’s Co-Cathedral;
This page: Ggantija Temples, Hagar Qim.
For more information on upcoming retreats
in Malta, visit learningjourneys.com.