Gratitude in Darkness

I walk the dog every morning. He's not what you'd call a 'late sleeper'.  He's up before 6 am every blessed day.  Rather than fight the power that be Bruno, I just decided to roll with it.  At first, it definitely sucked, but it was this getting up super early that paved the way for my daily early morning yoga practice and for that, I am grateful beyond words.

It's getting to be that time of year again when it's dark outside when we start walking. Like really dark.  About 20 years ago, I expereinced a traumatic incident that involved me walking alone.  Ever since, even when I know I am safe, I always feel a little uneasy walking by myself.  Bruno helps, but that unease is still there.  Although longing for brighter mornings, we set out for our walk everyday anyway, but it's much more comfortable when it's light out. This transitional time of year is very uncomfortable.

Given that my senses were heightened from the walk, yoga time is extra welcome to sooth the soul. When I get to the yoga room (aka, office/guest room/craft room with the furniture moved aside), I sit down to read my text for the day and stumble onto a message that fits me for this moment.  It's about how postures are never ending.  We flow from one posture to another, but the in-between part isn't really separate.  The space in-between, the transition, is part of the posture.

It get me thinking about the pose i love to hate. I have been in transition with chaturanga dandasana  for many many years.  It's not comfortable. It never feels right or good.  But we're developing the relationship.  I recently started putting my knees down but keeping a flat back to try to coax my shoulders into the sweet spot.  It feels like I've been in transition with this pose forever. On this particular morning, thinking about transitions, I am mid-flow from half-chaturanga dandasana , to urdhva mukha svasana,up dog, when I notice the sunrise.  So, I'm thinking about transitions metaphorically when a very real moment happens mid-transition.  

The sun is peeking its orangey yellow light up between the trees. It's breathtaking and I have never seen it from this room before. I immediately stopped what I was doing to grab my camera and try to capture it to share with you, but it wasn't coming through on camera.  Then I realized that this little gift was only visible by me mid posture change during this moment in time.  A moment that would not be possible if I were stuck in one place or in one season. If it were lighter earlier, I would have missed it.  If the chaturanga-up dog transition were faster, I may not have noticed it.  So, I put the camera down and got back to the perfect spot for that morning, right in the middle of the transitions. 

Anxious Mind

One commonly suggested treatment for anxiety is yoga.  I know this not from statistics, but as a patient.  It's interesting to me that yoga is often suggested as a cure by non practitioners. So what are doctors really prescribing?

Perhaps doctors are digging into research on yoga and it's effects. I'd venture a guess that when they prescribe yoga, lots of doctors are really prescribing breathing and stretching.  This is actually part of the formula for calming a panic attack. 

When a person feels panicked or anxious, the sympathetic side of your nervous system is hard at work. It's pumping adrenaline out to tell your body to run from danger.  The natural remedy to combat this is to stimulate the parasympathetic side of your nervous system to increase the release of norepinephrine to calm to body. One of the fastest ways to do that is long slow deep breaths. 

As an anxiety sufferer, I can appreciate the connection between calming anxiety and asana (physical yoga).  Steady breath is essential to asana and fighting anxiety.  It works in the super short term, in the moment.

Rather than focusing solely on the positive sort-term benefits of breathing and stretching, let's think about long-term benefits of the physical and spiritual practice.  The real relief from anxiety comes, not from the short term flood of norepinephrine, but from building a life of mindfulness.  

Presence in the moment is key to managing anxiety. Presence in the moment is mindfulness.  In his book, Meditations From the Mat, Rolf Gates said, "We are not meant to be on the edge of our seats, anxiously paying attention so we can control outcomes and events. We are meant to stand firmly in the postures of our lives, bearing witness to the moment, to our experience of the moment, aware as we do..."  The challenge of being mindful is to just be and let it happen.  Whatever it is.  Understanding that we have no control over it. 

To a certain extent, we have a similar challenge in asana practice.  Once you are familiar with the poses and language of yoga instruction, you have another opportunity to practice mindfulness in a slightly different way.  Even during a practice where effort is involved, you must also keep your focus on being aware of your body and being present with it. We learn to find the posture, observe and lean without trying to push too hard. We learn not to force, but to spend energy in the way that's needed at that moment.

The real anti-anxiety benefit of yoga is learning how to take these anxiety diminishing practice off the mat.  To marry the breath with the movement in our daily lives and to learn how to observe and be without undue effort.

Road kill Pose

Never heard of it?  Road kill pose is an ancient one, indeed.  It starts out looking like any other pose; graceful and energetic. Then something happens or changes or shift and the next thing you know, you find yourself in Road Kill Pose or perhps its near cousin, Face Plant Pose. 

All joking aside, these are two of my favorite poses.  Seriously.  Sometimes they hurt a little, but in my experience they are usually just surprising.  As a brand new yogi, I never fell.  This isn't because I was a natural at balance or was paricularly strong, but because I played it very safe. I kept my toes behind the metaphorical yellow line and stayed sturdy.  This was perfect at the time.  

Then one day, a couple of years into practice, I fell in padahastasa (feet on hands pose).  This was a pose that was easily accessible to me.   I was really trying to find length and ground down simultaneously. I lifted my hips higher and higher, tilting ever more weight into the balls of my feet and my palms.  It felt amazing!...push it further....BOOM!  Right over my shoulder!

The teacher jogged over to see if I was ok.  Honestly, I was more than ok.  I was great!  That letting go and the fall the came with it was the most liberating feeling.  I had been holding back for so long because I was afraid to fall or look foolish.  As it turns out, it didn't hurt and it was fun!

Since starting teacher training, practice has gotten a little boring. It's hard to turn off the internal commentary and over analysis.  I feel my body integrating the education, but it's happens at a glacial pace. One day last week, I was plodding through a class. Engaging my body.  Moving. Breathing. Flowing. In utthita trikonasana, triangle pose, my legs were strong, energy through my feet and hands, gazing up and feeling good. Then I leaned back into my shoulders, but forgot my bottom hand wasn't grounded...BOOM!  I fell.  It was just as amazing and freeing.

Falling isn't the goal, but to my way of thinking, releasing is.  It's safe to say that all this training is working!

Saddle baggage

My yoga teachers tell me that the hips are the seat of emotion. The junk drawer for your body to store all sorts of feeling. By engaging the hips, we unlock the junk drawer and sometimes stuff comes flying out.

This is precisely the kind of magical mumbo-jumbo that fed my little cynical heart for years. "Emotions don't live anywhere.  They are not tangible things like pasta or tennis balls." Yeah, that sounds like something I would have said.  As it turns out, I was dead wrong.

This is one of the coolest aspects of engaging in a spiritual practice.  It continually surprises me in ways that I thought were unmovable. I can keep tell myself repeatedly that yoga is about movement and steadying my over active nervous system.  But, when I feel like crying or spontaneously laughing during a hip opening class, it's really hard to pretend it's not happening. 

This week I did the Wednesday night double-header at my favorite studio. 1.5 hours of yin (passive, deep tissue) followed by 1.5 hours of vinyasa (active, large muscle groups). Both of the classes focused intensely on the hips.  As one would expect, my hips, thighs and bum are tired and a bit sore afterwards. The surprise is that I  feel like I've been on an emotional roller coaster.  I feel totally wrung out emotionally.

I felt anxious, confident, nostalgic, jealous, joyful, sad and relaxed. Maybe these are feelings that would have come up during another 3 hour period in a day. Maybe yoga just helps you tune in to those feelings. Or maybe, just maybe, it helps to unlock the emotional junk drawer and clean it out.