Yoga Diary

This weekend, I’m leading a three-day Core Strength Immersion in New York City. After writing my post about respecting limitations while still seeking transformation, I decided to make a public statement, not only to the 60 students in the room, but all the future yogis who will watch the Immersion (it’s being filmed): Let your poses be imperfect.

That’s right; I’ve hit a tipping point in my teaching where I am becoming much more interested in what a student can do to be more honestly themself in a pose, and I care much less how straight they can get their front leg in Triangle.

For an instructor who doubles as an anatomy geek, it may seem unusual to hear me say this, yet nothing could be more my style. Symmetry, or perfection as we sometimes think of it (the “perfect” body, relationship, or handstand), is what you get in a office building, with its level surfaces and, straight lines.

Balance, on the other hand, is what nature does, and it’s wild and free, yet comes to find its own equilibrium after all. Think of a river, which meanders here and there but ultimately reaches its source.  

In your yoga poses, and your life–have you been remaining sensitive to your state of balance, or straining for symmetry? If it’s the latter, this may help give you perspective:

There is not one thing in the human body that runs in a straight line. Our bones, blood, and breath all move in a spiral motion. Our nerves, spine, brain, joints, GItract? Not linear either.

Yet so often, we strive to attain linear poses that our bodies are not made to reach. We want to be in alignment in a way that’s healthy and balanced, but it’s easy to let symmetry-seeking creep into the process. The end result can be a hardening of the outer body, layering on more and more  tension as we try to grip and force ourselves into pre-conceived geometry.

Instead, there is a way of balancing this sthira (strength) with sukha (ease). A way to allow our spinning, waving, spiraling selves to soften enough to find the true edge, dissolve areas of tension, and still move forward into what is our unique optimal alignment.

I speak from experience, because I used to be militant about doing every pose “right.” In my quest for the perfect body on and off the mat, I developed an eating disorder as well as a ton of yoga-related repetitive stress injuries. Along the way, I did reach my goal of handstand without the wall. What I did not attain, however, was any sort of happiness or joy. Therefore, in my opinion, I wasn’t practicing yoga at all, but dukha, or suffering. A focus on perfection will always circle back to the big D.

Later in life and yoga, I got so sick (literally) of forcing myself into a box, that I began to seek out studios and teachers who advocated mindful, individual adaptation over form. I noticed that most of these teachers were over 40, many of them much older. Their physical asanas were very different than mine, yet the message is so freeing: Take this practice, poses, lessons and all, and make it yours, without apology or regret.

Approaching 40 myself, I can tell you that a relaxation occurs after a certain amount of time struggling and failing to reach absolute symmetry. You see it in the attitudes of certain grandparents, and it shows up in the practices of longtime yogis.  The amazing thing is, once I let go of my quest for the unattainable, many of the poses, like the hovering jump-forward that I could never before master, became available to me.

Yoga, ultimately is a path of personal transformation, not perfection. Reclaiming this aspect of your practice gets you into direct connection with your core, and asks that you express your truth to the world in the way that’s best for you. When we remember that our growth and spiritual awakening happens only to the extent we can get present, get close to our inner nature, and take actions from integrity–none of which have a thing to do with a false ideal of perfection–life becomes wildly, strangely, perfect after all.

Core Pose: CAT/COW VARIATIONS

Sometimes, I feel like anything not on the the mat is forbidden territory–or “hot lava,” as we called it in my childhood. Yet venturing outside the rectangle can be just what you need to find pockets of tension, and then move and breathe to release them.

Come onto your hands and knees. Take a few arches and curls of the spine, then begin to move creatively as you listen to the cues of your body. Move your head, your arms, and even legs to serve your goals of equalizing support and freedom.

Spend a few minutes in this pose, adventuring in your own way!

I was leading a Core Strength Vinyasa Yoga practice for a group of yoga teachers the other day, and one of them asked me afterwards why I prefer to cartwheel out of an overzealous handstand rather than drop over into a backbend. Poses that require lumbar movement are a real challenge for me, not because of a lack of flexibility or strength–my lumbar spine has hardly any curve. It’s a bone compression thing, one I won’t be able to change no matter how hard I try. And, believe me, I tried WAY too hard for years.

I’m more than slightly competitive by nature, so naturally when I began my yoga practice, I coveted all the stately, arching poses I couldn’t do. From the first Sun Salutation, I rushed past Cobra in favor of Up Dog. To me, Bridge wasn’t a pose, just an impatient pit-stop on my express lane into Wheel.

I held a death grip on my ideal pose: Forearm Stand Scorpion … and I wouldn’t let it go, until it became the straw that (literally) almost broke my back. One day, spine be damned, I forced myself past my healthy edge. The result was a herniated disc that pressed right into my sciatic nerve, and for 6 months, I was regressed to prenatal Cobra Pose.

One day, while grumbling through the tiniest seed of low Bridge Pose while the rest of the class was in full Wheel, I realized something amazing: This backbend actually felt good!  It was well-supported and my heart was able to expand from the strong root underneath.

My newfound awareness of how backing off had actually helped me find the equilibrium I’d sought, opened my eyes to the fact that grasping for external success at the expense of internal balance wasn’t just my tendency in the yoga pose, but also in my life. I looked around me and saw jealousy showing up everywhere. My inability to be confident in my own skin was causing all my relationships–and me–to suffer.  

If my partner spoke to someone I thought was better looking than me, I would feel immensely insecure. I had a hard time feeling truly happy for my friend who got a sudden financial windfall because I didn’t have as much. Whether on or off the mat, I wanted more, to be better than everyone, to have nothing left to want or attain before I would be satisfied.

Yogis call this parigraha, the yogic term for “grasping at externals,” or being unable to let go of the ego’s desires and access your own inherent satisfaction. It’s one of the biggest causes of dukha, or living in pain. As I progressed in my yoga studies, it became crystal clear that I was wasting a lot of energy looking outside of myself for my center.

Getting conscious meant I had to surrender my grasp on the fantasy and step into the reality. I began to let go of my idea of what I “should” be able to do, and started owning who I was and be where I needed to be. The happy result of this practice of owning my truth is that I relaxed at a deep core level, and chronic jealousy disappeared from my life. I can honor my friends and students for their accomplishments, because I’m just as fully at work rocking who I am.

When we practice aparigraha, or releasing the death grip on externals as our only source of happiness, we actually create another kind of hold–this time a powerful merging with our own core connection. We unite with our natural wellspring of self-created joy and can truly become a positive part of our community.

My body may not backbend beyond a cranky full wheel, but it is made for poses that require core strength like handstand and arm balances. Since we teach what we know, I’ve made this strength into my style. I’m so glad I finally saw that who I was would serve me better than who I wasn’t.

I encourage you to do the same, in any aspect of your life where you perceive something (or someone) outside of you as the thing that controls your confidence, empowerment, and peace. The power of yoga, or unity with one’s truth, is that coping and co-dependence dissolve in the light of your self-generated OK-ness. It’s an old cliché, but to do this, you have to decide to believe that you’re enough, just as you are–and then take actions that mirror that view.   In time, this shift from parigraha to aparigraha will become your new truth.

Now, when I teach, I make sure to give multiple variations, and encourage the students to find and play their own unique edges. “No matter what your level or ability, your poses are all equally valuable as your personal vehicle of transformation,” I say. And I notice that if I don’t grasp at their practices, or enforce attainment of the more advanced poses, it tames the green-eyed monsters in the room to hear it.

Do I still covet the effortless rainbow spines of my fellow yogis? Sometimes. But now I know it doesn’t define me. I listen to my body in any given moment, let my ego take a backseat, and say with an inner smile, “This is my pose … and I’m sticking to it.”

Core Question: Where in your yoga practice have you been letting something external define your happiness? How about in your life? What will you do differently to practice aparigraha in these situations?

Core Pose: Heart-opening Sukhasana variation into Crossed Boat.

This is one of the poses I do to prepare for backbends. It gives all the chest-opening and upper back and core strength needed without diving too far, too fast into the lumbar curve.

Come into Sukhasana (Easy Pose). Inhale and stretch the chest and arms up as the shoulders and tailbone lengthen down.

Exhale, rock back onto the sitting bones, firm the lower abdominals, and bring fists to the outer hips for a core strength mudra I call Fists of Fire. If possible, lift your knees and/or crossed ankles off the floor.

Whatever variation you choose, make sure it’s one where you can maintain the natural curve of your lumber spine. It must draw in as you lift the legs to counteract the movement of the front body. Repeat 5 times.