Deepak Chopra recently wrote an article in The Huffington Post raving calmly, the way he does, about the benefits of yoga, about the 16 million Americans now practicing yoga, about its effects on sleep, depression and anxiety, migraines, low back pain, blood pressure, and stress.
For the last 10 of my 20 years as a chiropractor, I suspected strongly that if my patients began meditating and doing yoga, their problems would diminish if not disappear. I still believe that, and can't imagine a more constructive prescription coming from any health care practitioner. As much as I loved and respected my profession, there's a reason I write about yoga and meditation now rather than practicing in a clinic.
We're a culture of people who look for outside answers and outside interventions (swallow this, inject this, micromanage the nutrients of this, do 15 repetitions of this, watch your numbers, Dr. So-and-so says this), and who have grown to trust less in our own capacity to generate our own healing and well-being than in what the latest, heavily marketed press release tells us about our bodies.
Here's what I love about yoga and meditation today: I love their simplicity. I love the way they encourage me to know my own energy thoroughly and intimately. I love the way I practice listening to my body with every class, every sitting. I love the quiet. Quiet is the place where great questions and great answers reside. Lastly, I love the way I discover my own truths. I'm convinced that making our own discoveries is a prerequisite for finding our way to good health. How healthy can we be if we never learn to listen to and trust ourselves?
Thanks to Deepak, not for prescribing, but for eloquently pointing the way to the mat. Thanks to the mat for pointing the way to ourselves. Thanks to yoga and to meditation for being here for all of us. And thanks to you, always, for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
Following twice daily practices outside this weekend and last (blame the Kundalini fever), I have a few more observations on the differences between indoor and outdoor practice.
1. Some asanas are transformed by moving outside. Shoulderstand done indoors is a horror movie for me. Jaws music, nervous gut, gritted teeth, the whole thing. I'm OK with the fling upward, but sustaining it is hell. Outside, however, it's gorgeous! The blue sky with drifting, fluffy sheep-clouds is such a mesmerizing background that I forget about the fact that I have no core strength yet. I will try all my dreaded poses this weekend, just for fun.
2. The smells are far better. Less carpet, less stinky armpit-and-crotch, and more clover, more pine needles, more bloomy plants I don't know the names of.
3. The sounds are intoxicating. Where we are, it's wind through pine needles and poplar (aspen) leaves, water rolling up on huge rocks, and the buzzing of bees, dragonflies, and humming birds. I'll bet you have your own marvelous soundtrack.
4. Savasana is the best thing ever. It feels as though you're floating in water. And if you're lucky enough to have a tiny breeze? Well, you may never come back inside.
I hope you have a chance to try your yoga outside, even if it means Tree Pose on the sidewalk during your lunch hour. If you look up, your hands will look fantastic against the sky.
Thanks to yoga for offering such thrills.Thanks to you for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
During summer, my practice moves
outside two or three days every week. My lovely man and I spend long
weekends at our cabin on an island in Northern Ontario.
This means that my practice is either
free-form or follows a DVD (until my laptop runs out of steam).
Al fresco yoga is different, even if
the asanas themselves are identical.
Here's what I notice:
Centering myself before I begin is
completely different. Rather than shutting the world out and going
inward, I breathe myself into my environment. I feel like one of the
trees or the clouds. Great feeling.
Life goes on around me. Rosie dog
presses her bum into my head whenever I am close enough to her
height. She also works diligently to occupy any and all free space
on my mat. My lovely man forgets I'm doing yoga and offers
breakfast, weather reports, and book summaries through the kitchen
window. These things would drive me mad at home. During cabin
practice, they're as lovely as chirping birds and the sound of waves.
Breath becomes more important as a
kind of anchor when there are fewer fixed points to stare at. The
cloud ceiling moves, the trees wave, water slurps on the shore. Steadiness comes from my inhalations and exhalations.
I'm clearer about the purpose of
yoga being pleasure. It's easy indoors for me to drift toward
pushing my yoga. Do more, go further, push harder. Blech. Outside,
everything is clearer. Happier. Lighter. Good for this little soul.
Are you an outdoor
yog(in)i? What have you noticed during your outdoor practice?
Thanks to yoga for
being so portable. Thanks to you for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
Among my friends are two former yoga
teachers, both of whom quit teaching (and practicing) because of
chronic pain that began with yoga and improved with the end of yoga.
I'm flummoxed by this. Did they not
find the right kind of yoga for their lives? Did they feel so
conflicted about the business of teaching yoga that their bodies
rebelled? Could they not find this "edge" we keep hearing about?
Intelligent edge, intense edge, edge of discomfort, going beyond your edge, working with your edge. In yoga, this Goldilocks edge is huge: finding
the balancing point between too much and too little practice,
overdoing and underdoing each pose, all the while expanding our
definition of who we are on the mat.
I appreciate this edge in my own
practice. Some days (some weeks, some seasons), feeling solid and
trusting, I'm drawn to exploring the deepest, secret spots in a
stretch, the hip and shoulder spots that have had "Keep Out"
signs on them for most of my life. And when I'm ready to peek into those places, it happens incrementally and at my own pace. I enter those rooms one brave step at a time. No matter who is teaching me or how big the class is,
that kind of stretching is a private matter.
On those same confident days, I
approach strength challenges by saying, "Bring it on, honey,
because I can fling the universe over my shoulder and carry her up a flight of stairs." Name the challenge and I'll double it.
Other days, weeks, and seasons, all I
want is restoration, peace, and Arrowroot cookies. No push, please.
This edge is completely personal and in
constant flux. I can't imagine anyone but me knowing where it might
be today.
To complicate things, the edge is far
more comprehensive than I'm suggesting so far. On some days I want
to be instructed. On some days I do not, thanks. Some days I resist
everything that's good for me. Some days I allow good things to
pour into my life. Some days I'm pushing everything (got to, have
to, should) and some days I hum a cooperative tune with all that is. There are edges everywhere you look, many of my own invisible to me,
all of mine invisible to anyone but me.
I don't know, then, how to explain
the teachers who love to sit on my back during a forward bend in
order to "take me to my edge."
(Nor can I explain how it is that
sometimes I love that push, even though I came to class wanting an
hour-long savasana.)
I don't know how to explain the huge
numbers of yoga students and teachers who injure themselves.
My own approach? My edge is my
business, my responsibility, and my pleasure to explore. I appreciate
my teachers, but no one knows my path better than me.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on
your edge(s). I have a lot to learn.
Thanks to yoga for being endlessly
interesting. Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
This summer, I can't seem to go a day without eating peanut
butter. Who knows why? It's not the greatest flavor in
the world, and not the greatest texture. It almost always gets stuck
going down my throat, and sometimes requires racing for a glass of
water to help it along. Nevertheless, down the gullet, every day. I
felt the same way about Brussel sprouts last winter, and about steel-cut
oats for breakfast every winter for the last decade.
It seems pointless to analyze this,
provided I'm not craving after heroin or something equally bad. I figure I'll
just eat peanut butter until the thing runs its course.
Yoga works the same way for me. There are
seasons during which I'd rather read about yoga than do a full
practice every day. At my worst, I'd take reading crime novels over working on Shoulder Stands.
Not so now. These days I'm doing
about 90 minutes in the morning and 90 more in the
afternoon.
"Hi, my name is Kristin and I'm a yoga addict."
The first practice is delicious. Every
day I finish and think, well that was wonderful, and plenty. By noon I begin to crave it again. By somewhere between 2 and 4pm, I'm
back on the mat like an idiot burglar returning to the scene of a crime.
Maybe it's the Kundalini honeymoon.
Maybe it's because I have the time. Perhaps it's a summery
growth-spurt energy. I don't know. And as long as it isn't vodka and tonic or Internet poker, I'll go with the flow. It's Camel and Standing Forward Bends, for God's sake. Meditating and
chanting. Breath of Fire. I'll take it.
Does yoga happen in waves like this for
you, or are you a steady-Eddie yogi? I wonder if some of us
are waves by nature but squeeze ourselves into a more regimented
practice. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Thanks to yoga for being more delicious
than anything, sometimes. Thanks to you for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
Where is the beautiful yoga clothing?
Oh, I know there's some lovely stuff out there, but don't you
dream of designing your own yoga T-shirts, yoga pants, and yoga mats?
We talked about this last year, but I
think it deserves another round.
Let's say we could create the perfect
top for you--tank top, V-neck, string bikini top, down vest--you name it according to your own inclinations.
For me, it would be a T-shirt, V-neck, cap sleeves, indigo,
soft and breathable, extra long through the trunk, doesn't shrink,
doesn't stink, doesn't stain. (What are the chances,
statistically, that I'll find this during my lifetime? If I do,
I'll buy 10 of them.)
OK. Now the logo. I want a soft,
friendly, slightly feminine font. Not a Barbie font, more like a
Sharon Stone font.
One saying on each of my shirts:
1. Love Breathing
2. Beyond Nuts for Kundalini
3. Shanti, Shanti, Shanti
4. Breath of Fire Smokes
5. Namaste Back at You
6. Smile by Yoga
7. One Conscious Breath
8. The World Needs Your Heart More Than It
Needs Your Head
9. What Makes You Happy Makes You Well
10. Love Wins
Those are mine. Tell me about your
T-shirt. And for goodness sake, somebody take the idea and run (or Salute the Sun) with it.
Thanks to yoga for inspiring us to
plaster accolades across our chests. Thanks to you for the
conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
Backbends. It's the only groups of
asanas in yoga that scares the bejeepers out of me before I even roll
out my mat. The word scares me.
They're hard, aren't they?
After a week of concentrated effort
(and almost two years of recurrent effort), I can power one hand
to one raised and shaking heel in Camel. I'd put this outstanding
accomplishment on YouTube if I thought it had anything to do with
real yoga. My pseudo-twisty-gritted-teeth Camel does not.
My Camel attempts have been push, push,
push, gotta get there even if it means squashing the heck out of my
lower back. Etc.
A survey of backbend literature
suggests they have everything to do with moving from fear to courage,
from fear to power. The word that shows up again and again, making me
nuts, is "release." You don't read much about bulldogging your
way to courage and power. You read, instead, about allowing, opening,
and releasing resistance.
Backbends are designed to open our
pelvises, our hearts, and our throats. They are designed to open us
to receiving the hearts of others, to receiving what the future
brings, and to trusting life.
Until backbends, I would have told you
that trust and openness are my middle names. Much of my time is spent
writing, speaking, and reading about love and courage.
Backbends are teaching me that my body
is not yet completely on board, that there is a bit more fear in my
body than my mind likes to admit.
So. No more pushing against my own
resistance.
Starting this morning, all shoulder and
hip openers (my prep work for backbends) are done softly, gently, and
with a focus on surrendering long-ingrained defenses I no longer
need. I will encourage myself at whatever volume is necessary. "Good for you. Let go, little goddess. IT IS SAFE TO LET GO." Just as well that I'll be practicing these at home.
Are you one of those backbend wizards?
If you are, tell us how that freedom feels. Are you backbend phobic? If you
are, can you see that changing?
Thanks to yoga for offering us opening
after opening after opening, and thank you for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
Backbends and I have not had an easy relationship. In Bow pose, my knees are unhappy, my
back unbending. In Camel ... well, there is no "in Camel" for me.
I can lean back while on my knees, but my heels might as well be on
the east coast of Africa, they're so far from my hopeful, flailing
hands.
And Wheel? I can raise myself from the
floor for five seconds, tops, at which point everything, my hips, my
left shoulder and ramrod spine lock up like it's closing time at the local prison.
It isn't just physical, either. As
soon as I arch my low back beyond its completely controlled range of
about four degrees, a panic begins, a defense mechanism that KNOWS
I'm safer closed than open, safer with the few things I know well
than with the million new things I might be stupidly bad at, safer saying
no than yes.
You know what they say: The way you do
your practice is the way you do everything, and
closed/no-chance/safety-first has been a default stance all my life.
It's time for a change.
What has happened sometime over the
last two years of practice is that my hard "no way, no how" has
become a softer "what if?"
At first encounter with a difficult
pose, I can't even think through it. Can't visualize myself in
the same room with it.
Over time, resistance softens and my imagination begins to wrap itself around the pose, until I hear myself thinking, "Some day, some day I'll get there." That's where I am with Camel, now.
This alone is a huge victory.
For the rest of the summer, I'm going to include backbends every
day. "Independence from my old resistance" is my summer mantra.
Is there a pose or a part of practice
that challenges you in the same way? Have you made breakthroughs?
I'd love to hear.
Thanks to yoga for teaching me that
challenges don't end until I do.
Thanks to you for the conversation,
kristin
Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario. Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.
Kristin Shepherd
Deepak Chopra recently wrote an article in The Huffington Post raving calmly, the way he does, about the benefits of yoga, about the 16 million Americans now practicing yoga, about its effects on sleep, depression and anxiety, migraines, low back pain, blood pressure, and stress. 
yogajournal.com
vegetariantimes.com
backpacker.com
optimumwellness.com
wholefoodsmarket.com
betternutrition.com
