The Yoga Blog

Squat

2012-01-27T12:59:00.000-08:00

I think I'm noticing a theme in recent posts- "poses I used to hate..."

Because I REALLY used to hate to squat. I remember when I was pregnant with my son folks kept suggesting that squatting was a terrific and traditional position for labor. That seemed crazy to me- I couldn't get my heels on the floor, and I could hold it for about 5 seconds if I was working hard.

Once that drama was over, I figured I should make friends with the squat. (or malasana if you want to get fancy) The first piece of advice I got was to ground my heels into a blanket or block. It was pretty embarrassing how big I had to roll that blanket, but I obediently kept one handy. The second insight was that I could move my feet as far apart as I needed to get the heels down. My heels were pretty far apart I can tell you, but the pose changes completely when the heels are on the floor. Then a teacher suggested that some women need to widen their knees far apart as they descend, then can allow the knees to come in a little once they are fully in the pose. The teacher had noticed that some women have a curved rather than straight path into the pose. (I can't attest to the physiology of this, but darned if it didn't work).

But the real key was just to do the pose all the time. If we are between poses in class, or I arrive early and am warming up, I try to remember to include some time just breathing or twisting in squat. Over the years I have been able to lengthen up through the spine more and more, and even have seen my feet creep in so that I can get both big toes on my mat! If the feet need to be close together or parallel, though, I still have to reach for my blanket to prop the heels. The important thing is that I've been able to begin to enjoy Malasana by making it my own, by making it my friend. And as is true in all friendships, the key to a good relationship is spending quality time together.

Back Bends

2012-01-23T09:17:00.000-08:00

Mostly I tolerate backbends. Except bridge. I hate bridge. I feel like I'm trying to stuff tissues into a full tissue box. Maybe it's because I'm short waist-ed. I'm very obedient though, I always include a bridge or two in my practice (3 my first yoga teacher used to say- "backbends are like pancakes, you throw the first 2 away")

Then while I was traveling I accidentally took a hot yoga class where they did tons and tons of standing backbends. I could tell the woman in front of me LOVED backbends. She just had that sense of joy in her backbends, of spaciousness and ease as she gazed evenly behind her.

Moreover, as I got on my mat the next day some knowing had remained in my body. There was some spaciousness left in my muscles and spine from the previous days class. Every sun salutation brought me back to that surprising feeling of openness as I stretched backward from standing mountain pose. I returned to my home studio requesting, of all things, backbends.

I naturally have kind of an extreme curve in my lower back (my parents and pediatrician used to worry about it when I was little). It means that I am kind of already in a forward fold just standing in Tadasana, and it means that my lower back often feels a little crunched. Every time I visit a new class or meet a new teacher their first recommendation is that I curl my tailbone under. (I know. I'm working on it. I've been working on it since I was 6. Sigh.)

Our teacher often gives the suggestion during backbends to pull the deepest curve out of the lower back and into the middle and upper back. This suggestion plus years of chest openers is finally starting to amount to something- the feeling that backbending can be an opening up instead of a closing down. Recently we were in Pigeon pose and the teacher handed me a pair of blocks "I think you will like this better with blocks" he said. As I grounded my hands into the blocks there was just more and more room to move that curve into the middle and upper back. It was challenging, it was interesting, it was fresh and new. I could finally imagine a time when I might like backbends.

yoga treats

2012-01-19T08:03:00.000-08:00

One of the women at my studio made these last week. Pretty sweet, right? I think that's lotus and side angle.

Why?

2012-01-10T11:47:00.000-08:00

A few days ago as I rolled out my mat I was still conflicted about abandoning family and work for my practice that evening. I had to remind myself yet again why I leave the many responsibilities tugging at me and head to the yoga studio. I counted the reasons off to myself. Exercise, of course; yoga is good for the body. It keeps me in shape and just makes me feel healthier. But really, since I had just been to the studio the day before I could have skipped a day without complete deterioration of my physical self. It’s a spiritual practice too, I reminded myself, a form of meditation. It’s a discipline; it reminds me that I can do the things I set my mind to, and that I can carve out time in my schedule for the things that are important to me. Later, probably during handstands, I realized the most important truth; yoga is fun. When I was a little girl, I spent most of my free time dancing around my bedroom, and tumbling across the floor. Back when I had no demands on my time and could fill each moment with whatever brought me spontaneous joy, I was doing exactly this. As adults we hardly ever get to dance around in a big open space like I did when I was little, (just stretching out in public will earn you some weird stares) but for that hour and a half in the yoga studio I can stretch myself out in all directions. I can roll on my back and stand on my hands and even laugh with friends who share the sheer joy of such things. By choosing yoga as my practice, as my spiritual discipline, I have built what I enjoy most about being alive right into my day. It’s a commitment worth keeping, even if it takes me a while to remember why.

Pain Free?

2011-12-29T08:47:00.000-08:00

While I was on the west coast, I visited a Hot yoga class where the teacher encouraged us -- "some day you will be pain free."

"Really?" I thought "is that our goal?"

I remembered back to an Ashtanga class years ago when our teacher remarked that "injury has a certain inevitability to it." I consider an Anusara class where our teacher talked about honoring our whole self, the broken as well as the healthy. What different philosophies these remarks reflect.

My great goal in yoga is not an absense of pain, though I do generally feel better than before I started to practice. I fantasize about practicing until I'm 80 (pincha mayurasana at 80 - that's my goal) and know that things break and wear out as we age. I've experienced plenty of that already.

I guess my sense of the goal of yoga is to be interested in whatever happens, and to breathe and stay present with the experience in each moment, whatever may come.

Old Friends

2011-12-01T11:45:00.000-08:00

Recently I spent almost two weeks couch surfing with friends and relatives. It was awesome. Some days it was easy to pull out my travel mat, change into yoga clothes and practice. I even made it to a couple of local studio classes as we moved from town to town. The weekend that we rented a house with a group of old, dear friends, however, it became clear that no time was going to organically emerge when the group energy would quiet down so I could pull out my mat. Finally as the band finished the morning-long process of hooking up all the electronica, I decided I could hear them as well form my bedroom as I could from anywhere, and so I closed my door with the intention of practicing. I was not convinced, at this point, that I would have the will power for a full hour of asana practice. It was too hard to be away from my friends. I was wearing kind of stretchy jeans, so I figured I'd just do a few simple poses and go back to the party.

After a few forward folds and cat-cow, still something was not right. How would I know that I had practiced? What is the difference between really practicing and just stretching a little? I figured I should roll out my mat and change into yoga pants. I began as I always do with Sun Salutations (I like the "c" salutations to start). I had been away from home for 9 days and hadn't slept properly since we left, so I knew this was not the moment for my most vigorous flow. I began slowly, really focusing on my breath and sinking into each pose. Now I felt like I was practicing. Sun salutations are like an old friend -- how many times had I done this sequence over the past 10 years? Too many to count. Entering this familiar flow did what any practice is designed to do, to root us and bring us back to ourselves even in confusing transitional moments.

The message became even more powerful as the improvisations in the living room just outside my door turned into an old familiar song- one I had been hearing my friends play since long before my yoga practice began. The song was an old friend, one I had heard so many days listening to them rehearse, so many nights hearing them perform. How many ordinary and extraordinary occasions had this song been with us? And of course the voices were my friends' voices -- old, old friends. Friends who had been with me for my whole adult life, who had been with me as I found my calling, who had been with me on the Playa, who had been with me as I got ready to become a parent.

And here I am, alone in my cell, Sun Salutations leading to standing poses and backbends as they inevitably must. Surrounded by the sounds of old friends. The old familiar songs, the old familiar travel mat flaking off in bits on my hands and feet, the layers of meaning and memory in asana and music. 3000 miles away from home, still I was at home. This is what it means to practice.

Breaking it Down

2011-11-12T18:20:00.001-08:00

Recently my teacher got very excited about about transitioning from a side crane to Eka Pada Koundiyanasana II. Now each of these are poses I can ordinarlly achieve, but moving from one to the other? I was mostly transitioning from side crane to a disheveled pile on the floor. As I looked up from my disheveled pile, I watched one of my classmates who was also new to this sequence place her legs with great care and determination. She was going to make it into that pose with just sheer focus of attention.

Finally one day we had a small class and I asked for a variation to help me get ahold of the sequence. Our teacher put a blanket on the floor by his head, then set his head on the floor in side crane, and from there switched legs and extended into Eka Pada Koundinyasana. I tried this variation without a lot of hope but with great determination. I realized that with my head resting on the floor, I had the time to carefully move the top leg to my upper arm, and make sure it was secure before removing the lower leg. Finally I had a way into the sequence.

I grew up in a family of classical musicians, so I had been taught from a young age that when you confront something difficult, you slow it down and break it down into smaller and smaller pieces until it is no longer difficult. I went to sleep at night hearing my dad break down musical phrases into small chunks, repeating them over and over until they lulled me to sleep. (My dad has amazing precision when her performs; it sound effortless.) When you confront a difficult pose the concept is the same -- break the pose or sequence down into smaller more manageable chunks; add a block, add a blanket, adapt, adjust until the challenge is the right size for you at that point in your practice. The muscles will learn something and remember the experience even if it was achieved with a brick or a partner.

So recently I was playing poker with a fried who could make a bridge out of the playing cards after shuffling them. "I can do this" I thought "I just need to break it down and pay careful attention." I asked her to explain her technique, and watched carefully how she held her hands. All my life I had thought "I'll never be able to do that. Some people can do it, and some people can't." Today I thought "this is like any new asana, I just need to break it down and practice." Yet another gift of yoga... and all those hours spent in a practice room as a child. Who would have thought.

On the Road

2011-10-10T12:00:00.000-07:00

Lovely class at Twist Yoga this morning while visiting my dad. It was a lovely flow with an ayurvedic focus on the fall transition. They did a great job making an out of town guest feel welcome and grounded. Sure miss my buddies at Sunrise though.

Why I Need Arm Balances

2011-09-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

For years arm balances have been a guilty pleasure. I mean, there are no goals in yoga right? So why does it feel so triumphant to balance on your elbows? There is a feeling I get when I glide into Eka Pada Koundinyasana for example, that just changes my whole day. Until recently I thought it was some unseemly show of ego. But Saturday as we began the familiar sequence that leads to Eka Pada Koundinyasana II a kind of fierce determination came over me. I thought "that's it! Arm balances allow us to be fierce!"

By day I am a Unitarian Universalist minister, and the mother to a young boy. I constantly cultivate in myself patience and gentleness. Whenever any bit of fierceness or determination emerges in my kitchen or at a committee meeting I shake my head at myself inwardly. Patience. Active listening. Kindness. Letting go of outcomes.

But on the mat, this fierceness is okay. In fact, our teacher has been encouraging us to move from Ashtavakrasana to crow and back. And each time I fall on my rear laughing I look over at that woman in the front row who is starting to get the hang of it, I see that fierceness in her. She is not giving up on that leg, quavering determinately in mid air, until it is safely onto the other shoulder.

Remember when we were little kids turning cartwheels in the backyard, or diving into the pool? "Look at me Mom! I did it!" How often do we, as adults, get to experience that glee? This Saturday morning, as I rested in child's pose after an arm balance series I realized that perhaps I don't need to feel guilty when I focus my mind and will, and soar for a moment, balanced with legs outstretched. As long as I can continue to laugh and be patient when I fall on my face and try again.

Playing Around

2011-07-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

Once I got over my incredulity that I too could kick up into handstand at the wall, I hit what has probably been an 8 year plateau in the pose. My attitude towards handstand since that time has pretty much been as a strength builder. Whenever the teacher requests a handstand, I dutifully comply, but when other folks in my class start walking across the room on their hands, I tell myself that Adho Mukha Vrksasana is "not really my pose." For the last couple of year's I've been working on using a bunny hop to get up instead of the one legged approach. It's much harder for me, somehow, so I keep plugging away at it. I'm able to hop my hips over my head only about 1 out of 3 times, so it keeps me humble.

Then a couple of weeks ago in class we practiced a partner pose going into handstand from kind of a double-dog position, with a third classmate spotting the handstander from behind. I questioned the pedagogical usefulness of this, but just as I was musing critically our teacher said "I think it's good just to play around in handstand, you know?"

So the next time I was in the lake with my son and his friends, I thought maybe I should do some handstands in the water like I used to do when I was a little girl. I assure you I was the only adult in the lake doing handstands. I felt a little foolish, but it's just as fun now as it was when I was eight.

Then yesterday in class, I hopped up into a perfectly balanced handstand before I even knew what had hit me. Some muscle memory of fearlessly shooting my legs up through the water had stayed with me. I needed that lesson- that sometimes more progress is made by just playing around than by all the dutiful hard work in the world.

Learning from injuries (again)

2010-12-27T10:43:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago my middle back started having fits. I went to the chiropractor. I wend to my massage therapist, but the pain I felt when I first woke each morning was not going anywhere. My Chiropractor had recommended taking it easy, explaining that the pain was not a problem of alignment, but a muscle or connective tissue that needed to heal. So I cut out the feats of strength in my yoga practice. Still no improvement.

My yoga teacher would check in before class "how's the back?" he would ask "the same" I would reply. One day he said with a furrowed brow- "this has really gone on for a while, hasn't it?" "Yes!" I answered in frustration. "Is it backbends?" he asked? "And forward folds and twists!" I responded.

I decided I had to do something drastic- I wasn't going to do ANY pose where I could feel the injury. That decision made me feel like a preschooler having a tantrum - and truth be told I did have tears in the corners of my eyes with the frustration of not being able to do ANYTHING without pain. Then we stood in tadasana, and my teacher asked quietly "How is that- any pain?" This seemed to me a ridiculous question - of course not- I wasn't doing anything except standing still! But something changed in that moment. It was not true that EVERYTHING caused me pain, just MOST things. It took a lot of will power, but I committed for however long it took that I would not do any pose that caused the least irritation to those healing muscles and attachments. I was able to do only about 1/3 of the asanas that day, but "pushing through" and "holding back" were not working. Only complete abstinence from certain poses would do it seemed. Oh, did my ego protest as I set up in the corner and skipped all those poses that make me feel like a Power Ranger and all the pretzels that are so fun to wriggle into. But patience and circumspection finally won the day, and after 3-4 weeks I could twist again.

The lessons are timeless and multiple-
sometimes less is more
take time to heal
when something is taken from you, don't overlook whatever you still have
and the most difficult of all- letting go of that ego.

A Great Misunderstanding

2010-11-29T12:18:00.000-08:00

As family gathered for our holiday meal, I told one guest the story of how I took the winter off from running last year during the coldest, snowiest months, and just did yoga.

The relative asked:
"Was it hard to get back in shape?"
"No, It was fine, I was doing yoga 5 times a week"
"Well, what about the aerobic part?"
"Seriously, I was doing yoga 5 times a week, it's not like I got out of shape."
"How would that help?" she asked.

This is not the first conversation I've had like this. I mean, I was surprised how much the breath work we do in yoga translated to spring running, but I knew that first run of the spring would be nowhere near as painful as when I was coming back from pregnancy, or that year I spent on the couch during grad school. Research has shown that the first 15 minutes of an Ashtanga class bring the heart rate up to what is needed for aerobic exercise. And though I feel calm and still in "wheel", I definitely notice a change in my breathing when I emerge.

I used yoga as a metaphor for volunteer burn-out at a committee meeting recently. I explained how sometimes I overdo it, ending up with tired sore muscles or even an injury, and need to pull back "At yoga?" they asked in shocked voices.

Somehow a great majority of folks seem to think that all yoga is Gentle Yoga or Yin Yoga. In fact Hatha yoga is about the balance between strong and passive energies. Cyndi Lee explains it much like my yoga teacher back at Willow Glen used to: "Hatha is also translated as ha meaning "sun" and tha meaning "moon." This refers to the balance of masculine aspects—active, hot, sun—and feminine aspects—receptive, cool, moon—within all of us. Hatha yoga is a path toward creating balance and uniting opposites. In our physical bodies we develop a balance of strength and flexibility. We also learn to balance our effort and surrender in each pose."

I don't know how we overcome this widespread perception of hatha yoga is a yin-only practice. But anyone who's practiced on Saturday morning at Sunrise Yoga knows there is plenty of warm sun in that practice to get anyone through the coldest winter.

twisting deeper

2010-11-28T23:24:00.000-08:00

As I was walking to yoga I noticed that winter's cold had dropped to a new place. It's colder than it's been, but certaily not as cold as it will be. It reminded me of going into a deep seated twist:
inhale- sit tall, lengthen the spine
exhale- move deeper into the twist

As we twist deeper and deeper into winter, the deepening motion inhales for almost rhythmic pauses. The whole eco-system breathes into the new, colder reality. We pause there for a moment, then exhaling, move deeper and deeper into winter.

Warm

2010-10-15T07:27:00.000-07:00

As our teacher led us into Savasana last week, he suggested, as he always does "you may want to put on socks or a blanket or anything else you need to keep your muscles warm during Savasana"

As I heard the click of the portable heater turning on, I remembered a teacher I had studied with a few times in California. He had scorned such practices saying that the heat from ones practice should carry us through Savasana.

As I lay on my mat, toes warmed by socks, snuggled under my cotton yoga blanket I thought "I don't believe that fellow ever practiced in the North East"

[Image pilfered from this very adorable yoga blog]

Whatever comes

2010-10-01T07:48:00.000-07:00

This summer my son and I spent a week at a retreat center that offered YOGA EVERY MORNING! The teacher was very clear that this was a gentle yoga class, not really geared toward more experienced practitioners. Undaunted I asked if she would mind if I took a few variations. She said it was fine as long as I set up in the back of the room so as not to confuse folks who were brand new.

The first day of class one practitioner walked out half way through. She later explained that she had a vigorous Vinyasa practice, and had gone to find a quiet room to do her own thing. She seemed a little angry that the class was not what she was used to. She had recently found Vinyasa and loved how it felt to have the strength and warmth that comes from a flowing practice. There was talk among some of us who prefer a vigorous yoga about forming a splinter group and finding our own place to practice.

Next morning I toted my mat back to the gentle class. I snuck in a few chaturangas and a headstand, but mostly I went with the flow. I remember so clearly a time in my practice when I too would have been filled with anger when a class was not vigorous enough. I was so happy to have found a form that helped me develop strength and really challenged my body; I felt like a Power Ranger. By the end of class I was exhausted but calm and centered. What changed? Time I think. I realized there is time for all kinds of yoga. After 10+ years of practice I really get that a week of yoga is just a blink of an eye in a lifetime of practice. I was willing to let go of sun salutations in exchange for a week with a new teacher, and for the camaraderie of a room full of yogis.

One morning the room started leaking and folks in the back row had to move their mats to accommodate buckets which caught rain dripping through the roof. We struggled together to hold our focus through storm-strength winds which slammed doors open and shut. We returned to our mats on days when the sun finally came out and its siren song tried to lure us away from asana out onto the deck.

Personal preferances aside, yoga anchored that week for me; no matter what the rest of any day might bring- it started with yoga.

Seasons

2010-06-07T09:55:00.000-07:00

This spring, due to changes in my schedule, changes in my studio schedule, and the beauty of the season, I have started running again and am doing yoga only 3 times a week. Now, for many years this seemed to be an incredible luxury, and when I started practicing 3 times a week about 8 years ago, I couldn't believe how much faster I made progress than practicing only 1 time a week.

But for the past couple of winters I've been practicing 4-6 times a week. I was so worried about getting out of shape for running that I didn't realize what the impacts of going back to a 3-practice week might have. I remember last year sometime my teacher mentioned that if he went a day without practicing he felt stiff, and I thought that was crazy. Now I know it's true. When I go just 48 hours without practicing, I feel like each time I get back on the mat I am starting over. I have noticed for years that the morning after a hard workout I am sore, but 2 mornings later I am REALLY sore. I suppose there is a similar principle at work here; some hardening and settling in happens over 48 hours that is somehow interrupted when you practice every day(ish). I realized this morning, as my stiff muscles complained, that I had taken for granted the comfortable supple feeling of my yoga-only practice.

But summer is around the corner, and with it a more flexible schedule. And next winter is on the horizon as well. I can look forward to days too cold and icy to run, knowing the season brings with it the comfort of a daily yoga practice.

Sharing Yoga

2010-05-07T07:32:00.000-07:00

Keeping up a yoga practice while traveling is a challenge. Hotel-room yoga, while kind of un-inspiring, is a challenge I have some experience with. Sure you have to do all the poses that extend one leg to the side so that your extended leg fits between the beds, and it's a tight geometry to raise the arms in Sun Salutation so that they don't brush the hotel desk or TV cabinet, but it's worth leaving some conference workshop 15 minutes early and getting to dinner 15 minutes late in order to practice.

Visiting family is a little harder. I often feel kind of conspicuous and in-the-way, and it's a lot harder to feel okay about skipping out on family activities than to slip away from a conference of 400 people.

This past winter when I went to visit my sister's family, I got up early to get my practice in before everyone's day began. But of course my niece and nephew are of the age where getting up at 7:00 is sleeping in, and my son had joined them in their early morning revels, so my sister was caring for 3 children before her first cup of coffee. What kind of selfish aunt would I be to sneak off in a corner to practice yoga? So I just laid 2 mats out right in the middle of the living room, and asked who wanted to practice with me. My son demonstrated a couple of poses and went back to his video game, but my 4 year old niece was in for the long haul. She was crazy about yoga, and wanted more more more. We must have practiced for an hour before she started to lose focus, and my word if she couldn't do just about every pose I threw at her. It might be the most fun I've ever had doing yoga. Next morning I rolled out the mats again; I didn't fear being self-centered and in-the-way, because now yoga WAS a family activity. How happy I am to have a new yoga buddy. It makes yoga-while-traveling a joy.

Something New

2010-04-11T12:49:00.000-07:00

While we were traveling, a friend took me to her usual class at 7th Heaven. The teacher suggested rolling on top of the front foot in pigeon pose,
whereas I have been using a flexed foot.
I've been trying it this new way since- they way the muscles in the outer thigh and hip are effected is really quite different.
I'm going to have to contemplate this for a while- Pigeon is like a brand new pose.

Yoga Without Drama

2009-09-29T08:21:00.000-07:00

When a church-member fell and dislocated his shoulder, it was explained to me that though "popping it back into place" is excruciatingly painful, there is a huge drop off in pain that follows. There is a dramatic solution followed by relative peace.

When I first started going to a massage therapist, I would come in with some painful knots or cramped muscles, and expect some kind of equally dramatic resolution to the problem; some kind of breakthrough or the kind of "pop" back into place one experiences on occasion in Chiropractic. Instead what I usually got was a moderate easing of the tension; relaxation rather than release.

This physical experience started to work on my sense of how other kind of tension can be resolved. Much of my life I had thought that psychological or social tension could only be resolved through a climactic dramatic event. If you've ever watched The O.C. you know that all problems are resolved through embarrassing scenes at important public events. I likewise assumed that my problems required some kind of cathartic blow-up or at least an opportunity to monologue and have a good cry.

But in my yoga practice I began to learn that many problems in the physical body can be resolved by backing off when you meet your edge. I had a pain once in my hamstring and so stretched it and stretched it hoping for release. Finally I realized that actually the pain was caused by over-stretching. Nothing was going to heal it but rest (well, maybe some ice and a little Arnica gel). Pushing harder was never going to resolve the problem.

One of the most challenging things I ever had to learn in yoga was how to soften a muscle. (I am still working on this, but at least I understand now that it is possible). I had some chronic upper back knots for awhile and assumed I would have to wait for my next massage to have the knots "broken up" but as I didn't have the funds for a massage just then, I asked my yoga teachers for advice and found a couple Yoga Journal articles on the topic. Whereas I was stretching my arms forward to release the back, they were all suggesting that I stretch my arms behind me to just allow the muscles some relief. One even suggested I "soften the muscles." This is quite a different paradigm. I want some hero to swoop in and to break up the knots, but am learning that for many problems in my life I can just focus my attention on allowing the area in crisis to soften.

Certainly there are times when one's life or relationships are out of alignment and only an act of will and strength can pop them back into a healthy place, but even when one gets chiropractic adjustment, it is important to have the muscles as relaxed as possible for the adjustment to work, and if the muscles are tightly held, there can be more pain in the recovery.

I start to apply this to the rest of my life as well. Maybe I don't need a dramatic ending to my conflict with another person, or to my inner struggles. Maybe I just need to soften. Sure it's a more exciting story when the resolution involves a dramatic event, but I no longer look for drama as the first solution to the tensions in my life.

Variation

2009-09-15T07:42:00.000-07:00

When we were working on peacock in triads yesterday, one of my partners apologized "I know it's cheating but I turn the block short-ways because my shoulders are tight" I replied with a chuckle "If you are making a conscious choice it's not a cheat it's a 'variation'." Then it sunk in- that is exactly what a variation is.

Toes

2009-07-02T20:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday when my teacher asked us to lift up our toes in Down Dog, I looked and they were actually off the floor! I assumed that for me this would always be one of those imaginary things that I would never really achieve, just creatively visualize. Hooray for toes!

integration

2009-06-15T06:37:00.000-07:00

Recently my Anusara teacher focused class on integrating the strong and the weak parts of the self into one whole. She did such a lovely job, really she could be a preacher. It was like an idea that had been amorphous in my mind, though it under girded my evolving thinking about my practice, suddenly was clarified. If you believe in the wholeness of the self, then your weak, tight, or injured places are not the bad parts of you holding you back from the perfect pose, they are just part of the self which must be integrated into your practice as much as the strong, flexible, healthy parts of yourself.

Growing in your practice is about finding your own expression of the pose, the expression which includes all your years of practice and the strength you have built, while protecting your weak wrist or twitchy psoas. It took less time for me to learn to get into Crane than it did to learn (the hard way) that if I straighten my arms fully I risk an injury that is going to keep me off arm-balances for months. I'm proud of my bent-armed bakasana because it allows me to practice not only strength and balance, but self-knowledge.

IthacaFest

2009-05-29T12:50:00.001-07:00

I love the pranadhanas. I mean, I know yoga is about form and alignment and self knowledge and health. It's also just beautiful. I love that live music and dance is happening right now just blocks from our home. I love IthacaFest. I love Ithaca.

Is This an Advanced Pose?

2009-05-18T08:16:00.000-07:00

At some point in your yoga practice the question arises "what does an advanced practice look like?" When you are in your first years of practice there are tons of new and exciting poses to be explored. I remember the miraculous feeling I got when my teacher explained the secrets of Ardha Chandrasana or crow. I still think headstand is something of a miracle. But the flow of new poses slowed down as my vocabulary grew. My carving for new poses did not. I used to flip to the back of my Yoga Journal to find the section about how to get into all kinds of crazy pretzels. For a while I just stared admiringly, but then one month I thought "I wonder if I could get into that one?" It took a month or so of practice, but eventually I did get my leg behind my shoulder and managed to balance on one hand. Sometimes I wish I had a mirror so I could see if I'm really in it, and other times I think the pose probably looks better in my mind than in real life.

There are still many poses I just can't do. They say most folks are either good at forward folds or backbends but not both. That's true in my case- my backbend is not going anywhere fast. I will never be able to do any of the poses that involve touching your head with the souls of your feet. I'm pushing 40, and I think even the most consistent dedicated practice is only going to get my feet another inch or so closer to my head at best.

So I've got a couple of goal poses at the moment (I've been plugging away at peacock for quite some time. It teaches me humility and patience if nothing else.) But if you are practicing 3-4 times a week (or more as many long-time folks do) it just can't be about doing exciting new poses all the time. It mostly seems to be about climbing back into Dog again and again and again, and trying to find something new, something more subtle each time. It seems to be about cultivating beginner's mind, about a subtle noticing of how today's Dog is different than yesterday's Dog. Sometimes you flip past the pretzel section of the Yoga Journal to the anatomy section to see what more there is to know about the psoas.

I once read a description of an advanced practice by teacher Martin Hunke who said, to paraphrase, that an advance practitioner was one who knew what the body needed on a given day, and could let that wisdom lead their practice. I had a teacher for a while that would say things like "using a block here is advanced" to goad or dare us to use the props we needed. It's true today that a lot of the students whose practice I admire know where their weaknesses and injuries are, and modify poses to keep themselves safe.

Or I think about BKS Iyengar's explanation in LIght on Life that the goal of asana practice is to put your consciousness into the whole body in every pose. Could it be possible that any pose you bring your full attention and consciousness to is an advanced pose?

Toes

2009-05-06T09:27:00.000-07:00

Recently my Anusara teacher reminded us to spread our toes and ground them into the mat in Cobra. I had forgotten I had feet back there. Darn. My Vinyassa teacher in California had been so specific and persistent with that instruction that I would have thought I would need to be reminded.

So, toes spreading and grounding in Cobra. Tail tucking is now exponentially harder. At least Cobra is fresh and alive again.

White Lotus

2009-05-01T08:47:00.000-07:00

This past Monday my partner had to work late and I couldn't get to my usual 4:00 Kripalu class. After a week of hotel yoga, I needed inspiration. While I was looking for my Shiva Rea Yoga Mix, I found a White Lotus flow CD which I picked up when I was out there for a yoga retreat 4 years ago. It was very similar to the flow we did back at my old California Studio, but it's been a while since I've done a strict Vinyassa practice. I felt very nostalgic as I was in the flow: for my old studio, for that Vinyassa connection of movement and breath. My sore deltoids the next morning told me that it has been too long.

Hotel Yoga

2009-04-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

I've been out of town for the past week, so I've been practicing "hotel Yoga"

You know, the kind you do between the polyester comforter double beds, with one arm brushing the TV console every time you do a sun salutation. I miss my studio, and I miss having space to stretch out, but it's a great feeling to know you can bring your mat along on your journey, and ground yourself in your practice.

Back in the Day

2009-04-13T17:45:00.001-07:00

Got a little nostalgic lately, thinking of those years when my son was little, and yoga was a 2 person activity. It started when we went to "Mama and Me" yoga together, but eventually he was disqualified for crawling (pre-crawlers only). Still for years on Saturday mornings he would climb over and under through much of my practice. (Oh how grateful I was for adult time on those days I could practice at the studio.)

Some rules evolved:
Don't climb on Mama when she's on one foot.
Don't climb on Mama when she's on no feet.

This classic shot was taken at Burning Man, the one year we brought our son. He calls this pose "tunnel." It's his favorite.

Dog

2009-04-08T07:47:00.000-07:00

Latest Iyengar revelation:

Relax the back of the legs back in Adho Mukha Svanasana.

And even though I've been doing this pose for a decade, it was like I'd never thought of this before.

It's been like a miracle all week.

Psoas

2009-04-07T09:10:00.000-07:00

I seem to have pulled my psoas. I blame janu shirshasana. Okay, I blame my own bad alignment, or pushing too hard or something, but I'm pretty sure I did it in Janu Shirshasana. I've done it before, and I think it wakes up an old birth-of-my-son injury, so as I'm hobbling around I'm flashing back on the labor process, and that time I got this same injury in an Ashtanga class and it took a month to heal. I'm being pretty careful and cautious, but the muscles are so deep it really gets under my skin (literally) I'm finding myself irritable and tired.

Partner Work

2009-04-07T07:48:00.000-07:00

In my Kripalu class we often do Pincha Mayurasana in groups of 3, so that the person in the pose can wobble all they like and get some feedback about their alignment. Generally I need the same feedback in every pose "tuck your tailbone and pull in the lower ribs." So I'm tucking and tucking and still not aligned properly. I've got 2 classmates and the teacher all trying to explain what is out of alignment, but I'm not getting it. Sometimes it's hard to think when you are inverted, so I come down and my classmate explains that my legs were tilted toward my front.

All of a sudden, after how many weeks of hearing my Iyengar teacher explain that the femurs root back while the tailbone tilts down, I suddenly understand. This need is exposed when your feet are skyward because the floor is not there to hold your legs straight up and down. It's one of those yoga enlightenment moments when the sun dawns and the light bulbs come on. Now if only I can do it...

Arriving

2009-04-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

This morning I just could not arrive in my practice. It was an Anusara class that I love, but I was so caught in "future planning" mode that I just could not come back from June and May and later-this-week. Some people dwell in the past when their mind wanders, I dwell in the future. I don't think I finally arrived in my breath until Savasana.

To Run or Not to Run

2009-01-22T08:46:00.000-08:00

Last year when it got cold and the sidewalks got icy I joined the neighborhood gym for the winter. This year we are conserving money, and really running on a treadmill is like... running on a tread mill. It's practically a metaphor for it's own tedium. Instead I am doing yoga on days too cold to run, and consequently I haven't run in 2 weeks. It was the warmest day of the week today, which means hovering around 20 at running time. And gray. I rolled out my yoga mat again.

By some lovely serendipity, I had scheduled myself months ago to preach my first ever yoga sermon "Lessons learned on the Mat." I've got my stack of yoga books by the computer, and am finally finishing Iyengar's Light on Life. I was looking for a story to tell during the "Lesson for All Ages" and realized that we should just do a few asanas together. I am more nervous about this than the sermon. What poses will hold the interest of our elementary school kids and be accessible to our elders?

I am a little worried about how hard that first run will be when the temperatures get back up into the high 20s or even 30s. But living seasonally is something I believe in, so perhaps winter is the season of yoga. Maybe I just need to have faith that the sun will come back in the spring and I will burst out in my running shoes like those little crocuses bursting through the frozen ground.

Ego

2008-10-24T08:42:00.000-07:00

I confided, once, to a friend that I felt quite competitive in yoga class. If there is a pretzel to get into, I want to be in it. If there is a strength pose I want to hold it as long as anyone else. If the ashtanga series calls for 50 chaturangas, I want to do them all. I told him that some mornings I would be overly aware of a yogi nearby, watching her practice, wanting to compare. He was shocked "I didn't think yoga was supposed to be like that" he said. "It's not the yoga." I said "It's the ego."

If you have hung out with me, you will know that I am not generally a competitive person. I rarely push a point to win an argument. I usually bowl a 40 and I'm okay with that (mostly). I've been running an 11 minute mile for 10 years now and still I'm out there 3 times a week poking along in sun, wind or streaming rain. Generally I'd rather have peace and good feelings than a victory. Then I started taking a vigorous form of yoga, and suddenly I wanted to be the best.

When I moved to Ithaca and started at a new yoga studio, I somehow felt I had to prove myself. Most of the poses were familiar, but there were new variations, new juxtapositions. We were doing a lot more arm balances and wheels then I was used to, and when my wrist started to hurt I didn't listen. It's also true that I was doing a lot more keyboarding and driving in my new job, and a lot of heaving lifting as we moved into our new home, but regardless of the cause of the injury, I only felt it in yoga. At first I pushed through the pain, but finally I admitted to my teacher that my wrist hurt and asked his advice. He encouraged me to hold back, to use props, to skip certain poses, but my ego just could not let me skip some super-cool pose that I'd been working on whenever the rest of the class was doing it.

Months went by like this until finally something in my ego just broke. I had to give in to the idea that my wrist might never be quite right. I saw a physical therapist, I used my props, I started working on some of the forward folds I had never mastered in Ashtanga while everyone else was getting better and better at an arm balance I had always wanted to learn.

And one day I realized the pain was gone. I slowly put some weight on my wrist, and brought poses back into my practice one at a time. I still use a wedge for many poses, and I know now to stop when my wrist gets tired, and that some poses just aren't worth the cost. And somehow during all that my ego softened. I got used to setting up my mat 3 rows back and doing my own thing. And though I can now do wheel again and Eka Pada Koundinyasana, my ego is much softer. I sometimes wonder if I will keep getting better now that I don't crave competition on the mat, but I kind of don't care. I wonder if this is part of the wisdom age brings; things fall apart and teach us something about what remains.

Yoga in a Brave New World

2007-08-03T08:22:00.000-07:00

Yoga, you'd think, would be pretty much the same East and West. And mostly it is. Like %80 it is. I found 2 great studios when we first visited over a year ago. One, Sunrise Yoga, is on the 3rd floor of an aging building downtown. It's a roomy studio, with a million plants by the windows in the front of the studio where the teacher sets his mat. He teaches in the Kripalu tradition which, so near as I can tell so far, is not so very different from the Vinyasa yoga I have been practicing for the past few years. They start every class with core work and some crazy hip thing, and they do Warrior I with the heel up instead of heel down, but generally I catch on. The most embarrassing mix up was when the teacher called for "elbow stand" and, taking a guess at what that might be, I went up into a headstand. The way I was arranged, I couldn't really see anyone else, except a great shuffling of mats. When I did finally come out of the pose, I noticed everyone else arranged against the walls in what I had come to know as "forearm balance" or Pincha Mayurasana. Anyway, everyone there seems very nice, they have lots of classes and are very affordable.

I also have been going to Soma Yoga. They don't have as many classes, and are more expensive, so I've just been going once a week. It's on the main drag, further from the downtown in a converted house much like the one we are living in. Everything is very beautiful, and looks newly renovated and painted. The teacher mentioned that she made the bolsters her self, and I wouldn't be surprised if she painted the lovely signs too. It's the same attention to detail she gives to her yoga practice. She teaches in the Iyengar tradition, which means if you get out 3 blankets, a bolster, 2 blocks and a belt before class, there is a chance you'll need one or 2 more blankets before class is over. I find I can generally get through most Vinyasa classes with one blanket, and when I studied in the Ashtanga tradition they eschew all props, so I have learned to do without even my one security blanket when the occasion arises. I have nothing against props, I just am not sure what to do with them in such great quantity, and as last night's class went on, found myself getting into my prop-supported poses with decreasing grace. Class started out with reality intact, but after years of looking for the 4 corners of my feet, I learned last night that actually feet have 3 points, not 4 corners. And after years of agreeing that "the back foot drives the pose" in pyramid, it turns out the front foot is in charge, and allows the back foot to get involved. Plow pose- I still go into that one remembering my Ashtanga teacher adjusting my pose so that the tops of my feet were on the floor. No, sorry, in Iyenger the toes are tucked, and the hands are on the back. Finally we went up into Viparita Karani, and I asked out loud (the only person asking any questions at all, I assure you) "What prop do you guys use here?" The teacher says "just do it the usual way" which turned out to be short by 2 blankets, to make it a total of 2 blankets and a bolster under my hips. Now how do you get up on pile that I wondered? My attempt created a loud thunk-thud type noise. "Now that can't be right" the teacher said. Well, I was just thinking I had lost my "beginner's mind" in Yoga and probably was not as sharp in my practice as I was during my first year or so. I sure feel like a beginner now.

Here's the craziest thing about yoga here. Where are the morning classes? Willow Glenn Yoga had classes like clockwork every morning of the week. I've enjoyed them all but I like Tuesday and Thursday best, thank you (plus Saturdays at home with dog and my son climbing under and over me) followed by a Carrot Ginger Muffin at Peet's.

It's a brave new world I tell you.

Slow Surgery

2007-05-02T08:40:00.000-07:00

Yoga, according to my teacher, is like slow surgery. He maintains that trough the consistent practice of asana, the body can be substantially changed over time. It's true! Imagine my surprise the first time I got my knee behind my shoulder, or touched my chest to my thighs. It's pretty mind blowing, really.

My teacher also says "Check your hands, check you feet, after class you get to eat" but that's for another time.