Playing Around

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)

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

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

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

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]