My session at the Vancouver Yoga Conference had taken a pause. An hour-break, then we’d all come back for four more hours of chakra realization. So far, I’d been banging my hips and sacrum on the ground, trying to tune into my pelvis and the first three chakras. Now I was fantasizing about tuna sandwiches.
Such musings were interrupted by a voice to my neighbor to the left. It was one of those rich and resonant voices that reminds you of James Earl Jones. The kind of voice that Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellan spent years in drama school to develop. A voice that puts fussy babies to sleep and reassures angry crowds.
The voice belonged to a man radiating kindness. I was complimented on my note taking, asked very politely if I would be interested in a five-minute experiment in YogaFLIGHT. YogaFLIGHT? Was that like Acro-yoga? I asked. Similar, yes, but YogaFLIGHT was the integration of two passions: yoga and skydiving. Finding the freedom of weightlessness here on the ground.
I put off the tuna sandwich. Definitely interested.
Slade, my yogaFLIGHT guide, started me off in a variation of Prasarita Padottanasana. He lay on his back and supported the weight of my hips with his feet, then stretched my arms over my head for one of those deep, delicious expansions. “Breathe,” he reminded me. Oh right, breathing. I closed my eyes…and let go.
YogaFlight's sKY and slaDE
To be honest, I cannot tell you exactly what happened. Slade’s quiet, confident voice would occasionally say things like, “Now reach for your feet,” or “This is called sleeping tortoise,” and I would find myself suspended in a miraculous yoga concoction. I don’t know how it looked from the outside, but from the little crowd of smiling faces that I awoke to I can imagine it looked pretty fun. However, I can describe how I felt: present, connected, safe, light, expansive, joyful. As if the playfulness and wonder from my childhood could merge with a deep and present awareness of another human. For those five minutes, everything dropped away except gravity, partnership, and breath. Guided by Slade, this divine experience was uplifting and centering at the same time.
For those of you who have not yet experienced the freedom and joy of partner yoga and “flying,” I humbly and fervently recommend you do. I was lucky to have YogaFLIGHT drop into my lap unexpectedly, and even more fortunate that my first guide was such capable and trustworthy partner.
Urdhva Dhanurasana, aka Upward Bow – don’t call it Wheel, that’s a different pose ;). One of the ultimate yoga stretches for the front of the body, Urdhva Dhanurasana challenges us to maintain our strength though the core as we radiate through our upper chest and heart and stretch our hip flexors and shoulders. Any restriction in the shoulders or hips will immediately translate into a crunched lower back, so Upward Bow requires a great deal of warming up and opening in order to be happily explored.
Risk factors: The low back. This is priority number one. In order to keep our low back long and strong, we much engage the rectus abdominus and create containment through the front of our body. Opening the shoulders and hip flexors will help us to find an even arch through the spine and take pressure off the lower back to do all the bending.
What to warm up:
The shoulders in flexion (reaching forward and up). Whenever we have the arms over our head, our upper arms must in in external rotation. This means that poses like adho mukha svanasana (down dog), urdhva hastasana (arms over the head in tadasana – I love this when squeezing a block between the wrists, arms straight, front ribs in), and handstand (urdhva hastasana upside down) will be great warm ups for the shoulders. You should be able to straighten the arms above the head without bending the elbows or bowing the spine. If this isn’t possible yet, then keep working on the shoulders and wait before trying Upward Bow. With time, it will come.
The hip flexors (front of the thighs). Low lunge, high lunge, and Virabhadrasana I are great poses for opening the front of the thighs. We are particularly interested in the psoas rather than the quads, as the knees in Urdhva Dhanurasana aren’t really that bent.
The thoracic (upper back). Work to open the front of the heart by broadening the collarbones, lifting the sternum, and drawing the shoulders deeply into the body. Can you work to isolate the drawing in of the upper back while you keep your lower back long? It’s a little bit of a conundrum, but this is exactly the paradoxical work that backbends require. Poses such as sphinx, bhujanghasana (baby cobra), urdhva mukha svanasana (up dog), and salabhasana (locust) can refine this work. Twists such as parivrtta parsvakonasana and parivrtta trikonasana are excellent at teaching the body to open the upper spine while engaging the abdominals and lengthening.
The core. To maintain a long lower back, we must use strength through the front of the body to contain the area between the front hip points (the ASIS) and the lower ribcage. Poses such as plank, forearm plank, and navasana (as well as other non-yoga varieties that might be in your repertoire) can bring awareness to this area. Doing a mild camel with your frontal hip points stuck to the wall and focusing on lifting up an out of the hips can be an effective way to bring attention to the work of the abdominals.
The inner thighs. The adductors link to the core. Also, as we press into backbends, the tendency is to grip the buttocks, which can cause external rotation in the thighs and squash the sacrum. By engaging the inner thighs and rolling them slightly to the back body, we widen the sacrum, create length through the back and more room to reach the sitbones away from the back. The adductors can be accessed in almost every pose, but are particularly obvious in neutral lunges when we can “scissor” the inner thighs towards each other. Putting a block between the upper thighs or the inner feet immediately creates and adductor-engaged imprint in the body.
Props: Use a strap shoulder-width above the elbows to prevent flailing out in the arms and loss of external rotation. Strap the upper thighs at hip distance apart to keep the legs parallel the hips (and inner thighs down, and sacrum wide). A block between the upper thighs cues the inner thighs to engage and roll to the floor. A block between the feet or a strap around the big toes helps to keep the feet parallel and tracking (keeping the thighs neutral rather than externally rotating). Blocks tilted at the wall can take the pressure out of the wrists by decreasing the angle at which they need to bear weight.
Energetics: Urdhva Dhanurasana is one of the great heart openers. But we cannot move to opening unless there we have strength through the core of the body. We need a solid foundation through the legs, pelvis and lower core (energetically we need stability in chakras 1-3) in order to radiate and expand through the upper chest (chakra 4, the heart chakra). In a recent workshop, Anodea Judith invited us to open our hearts while staying in our core. In relationships – the purview of chakra 4 – we often find ourselves either hardening and retreating or becoming too malleable and floppy. We are either defensive, or we let too much in. Urdhva Dhanurasana invites into the great balance; the more strength and grounding that we can find in our center, the more open and receptive that we can safely become.
Backbending thoughts from Aadil Palkivala:
Physically speaking, backbends move the spine into the body, creating strength in the back of the body and length through the groins, abdominal cavity, rib cage, throat, and frontal shoulders. Backbends charge the kidneys by drawing them into the body, rejuvenating the adrenals and drawing the life force given by the kidneys back into the body. Backbends generally open up three major areas of the body – the pelvis, heart and throat. Therefore, they can open the hips, free the chest from congestion, and bring back a healthy curve to the neck. Most of our daily habits (sitting, driving, working at a desk) cause a collapse in the front of our bodies and push the spine backwards. This is why you will often feel bony lumps on the spine of older people. Backbends bring healthy alignment and mobility back into the spine, moving the vertebrae forwards.
Psychologically speaking, backbends move us toward our future and away from our past, since the back of the body represents the past and the front of our body represents our future. Backbends quieten the hyper-analytical activity of the front brain, and because of the extension produced, trigger a feeling of openness in the limbic system (the emotional center of the brain). In contrast, when we are in a state of fear or anger, we curl up and go into a position of flexion (protection). Thus, psychologically speaking, backbends move us from fear to power.
Energetically speaking, backbends move the spine toward the Pillar of Light in the body. They open up congested and stagnant pelvic energy. This allows the energy to move upward in an expression of aspiration for growth, where it can be transformed by the wisdom of the Heart Chakra. Backbends open up the Heart Chakra, expanding the feeling of love and joy. They also open the throat, allowing the Heart Chakra to express words of beauty and love. This opening also allows the mental energy to move more easily down to the Heart Chakra.
However, a caveat: All the above happens in backbends only if there is the intention for this to happen as you practice. Otherwise you will simply become more flexible!
My friend and Circle of Soul sister Chanda Rule sent me this outstanding chant as a little reminder to keep opening to grace. Keep on, keepin’ on, even when you feel like closing off. Another sister of mine once said that we were always in either a state of expansion or of contraction. Listen to Chanda’s voice and feel yourself get a little brighter, a little bolder, a little bigger. For more of Chanda, check out her site and new album. She is divine. Click just to hear her website music, it will make your day just a bit happier.
Here’s another duet with Chrissy Carter, recorded on my trip to New York City in June. Shri Krishna Govinda with Chrissy Carter. Check out Chrissy’s site.
Here are my nieces (and well, my sis, my mom and I), singing from Peter Pan. Because hey, I think we all feel like this sometimes. I Won’t Grow Up with the nieces
On my latest trip to New York City, I had the privilege of assisting Chrissy Carter in the Yoga Works Teacher Training. In addition to being a superb instructor, Chrissy has a gorgeous voice. On the last day of the training, we recorded a few of her favorite chants, which I later converted into a duet by adding a harmony line. The sounds of midtown Manhattan in the background add their own flavor. Gayatri Mantra with Chrissy Carter
So for that past few years I’ve been practicing ashtanga. Flow, flow, breath, breath. There is a cycle and rhythm to the practice. You move. You keep going. You jump around. You breath some more.
But here I am visiting my old Yoga Works crew. And they study Iyengar.
See, in the yoga world, there are three main lineages: Ashtanga, Iyengar, and the yoga of Desikachar. Most our our Western yoga springs from the same teacher (the granddaddy of yoga as we know it, Krishnmacharya). But where ashtanga focuses on movement and breath, the Iyengar tradition focuses on alignment.
Ruthlessly. Meticulously. SLOWLY.
So now I’m not jumping around. I’m laying on the mat and contemplating the slight external rotation of my thigh in the hip socket as I reach my other leg into the air in supta hasta padangustasana. And then I’m holding it there. For a long time. I’m meditating on the percentage of weight in the ball of my foot during my forward bend. I’m finding that extra degree of external rotation in my upper arms in downward facing dog.
It’s slow, it’s sweaty, it’s focused, it’s hot.
The exquisite attention to detail is like a life-sized magnification glass. We’re using the acute sensation of one part of the body to develop focused concentration (or dharana) that helps settle the monkey mind down. Similar to ashtanga, it’s not really about the body (though it sure can feel that way!), but about the mind. The bodily sensations become a lens for the practice and a means of cultivating mindfulness in our lives. After all, if we can focus and breathe in the discomfort of utkatasana (fierce or chair pose), we may have a little more space to be present in oh, say, an argument with our ex about who left the fridge open. And the capacity to focus on the details in our practice makes us more sensitive the the miraculous detail of everyday life.
We tend to think of joy as something that involves big events: weddings, success, births. And while this is true, the sustaining marrow of life is found in the smallest of everyday occurrences. It’s finding the extraordinary in the ordinary. The shape of a flower, the smile of a friend. The play of light on a skyscraper at sunset. These are the small joys that sustain us when the greater flow is not revealed.
The devil is in the details. And through those tiny portals lies the magnificent expanse of the divine.
New York City has chilled out.
People on the street are less hurried, the traffic flows sedately, the line at Zabar’s is leisurely. There is time to nod and smile at fellow customers without feeling that everyone is clawing for the front of the line. Even on the subway, a civilized distance is observed between the pressing bodies. New York has become freakin’ mellow.
Or maybe not.
The last time I lived in the city, I had a mission, an agenda, a dream. Higher than high ambitions that were not to be thwarted. The city was to be gotten through, gotten over, conquered, and tamed. (Oh, how the gods must have laughed!) Every moment was a rush to the next appointment, every transition too slow for what I needed to get done.
But upon my return to teach a yoga intensive this June, everything looks a lot less harried. My first thought was, wow, there must be fewer people here! Did the population decline? Have that many people lost their jobs?
Um, no.
The reason for the change is laughably obvious. New York hasn’t chilled out, honey, it’s ME. Three years in the Pacific Northwest have slowed me down enough to actually see other people on the street, take my time standing in line, and feel positively mellow in my hyper-kinetic homeland. (That, and the fact that a visit to Delhi makes New York City look like an elderly, sleepy monarch.)
I took an Iyengar class today with Carrie Owerko, where she spoke about how we see the world through the filter of our mindset. When we take a moment to acknowledge where we are – rather than immediately reacting – we have a better shot at practicing direct perception of the present moment. In every situation from “class was sooo hard today” to “my partner is being completely unreasonable,” we can first ask ourselves: where am I coming from? What is my state of mind? What are the vrittis, or thought patterns, that are fogging up my perception?
While my New York state of mind has been tempered with some West coast chill, I still find myself starting to hurry in the street. Looking down and not up and walking too quickly to enjoy the sites that I’m passing. Getting irritated waiting at the deli. When I notice this happening, now I can take a moment to reset. I wipe some of the fog off the mirror and think of the Pacific Northwest. And smile at person next to me in line.
A couple weeks ago, I put my car into storage and started riding my bike. Now, I am not what you’d call a good bike rider. My ass hurts, my thighs ache, and grease somehow gets smeared all over my calves. Small children on tricycles pass me on the street.
While my body may be used to yoga, riding a bike challenges me in a completely different way. Muscles get tightened rather than lengthened; cardio work is a main component rather than a by-product. And although riding a bike is undoubtedly good for me, it is very humbling and hard.
As I was riding to work last week, however, I noticed a small change. It had become just the slightest bit easier.
I noticed this because I was actually able to think about something other than my screaming legs.
But I hadn’t become suddenly stronger; I was just becoming accustomed to the pain. Through practice, I was slowly getting used to this new kind of stress. In that moment, I had a mini-revelation: if it took practice for me to get used to physical discomfort, why should mental discomfort be any different?
As obvious as the connection is, riding my bike reminded me that we are always going to have to move through discomfort when trying something new. We don’t have the strength when we start. It’s something that we have to practice in order to get.
Exercising new muscles – whether they’re physical or psychological – requires patience, compassion, and diligence. So don’t be hard on yourself if your thighs are burning (literally or metaphorically). Stay with it. As Pattabhi Jois says, “Practice, practice, and all is coming.”
A necessary side note: After I wrote this blog, I found this video clip of Shri K Pattabhi Jois. He’s the original purveyor of “Just Do It.” He passed from this world on May 18th, 2009 and has left the world the incredibly legacy of Ashtanga Yoga. Thank you, Guruji. You are missed.
Last week, I took a roadtrip with my boyfriend. He struggles with anxiety and is working towards flying on planes. In the meantime, we drive. He hasn’t been to Los Angeles for several years, so this was a pretty significant adventure. The prospect of leaving terra firma and adventuring into the wilds of the United States held the potential for serious discomfort.
We had our moments, of course. All evolution requires some growing pains. There were times with then anxiety would come on, and he would have a choice: open to possibility (that he would live through this moment, that he could survive distress) or close down in fear.
Although his boundaries are far more tangible than most of ours, we all have possibilities that we’ve shut off in order to stay comfortable. We all have places we don’t go, because we “don’t do that,” or we “can’t do that.” Some of us refuse to sing in public (or even sadder, in the privacy of our own home) because we’ve come to think we can’t. Some of us unknowingly put limitations on our ideas of personal success and happiness. We may shy away from something that we’d actually like to do because we are pre-supposing that we won’t be able to do it.
It’s almost easier for my boyfriend. He can see the border between Canada and the United States and determine to step over it. Some of us have been living with our self-imposed limitations for so long that we no longer even recognize that they’re there.
In our practice, we can use our discomfort as a stepping stone to possibility. When we’re in the throes of a pose (say, a strength-challenging hip opener like Warrior II), we can take the space to respond to the discomfort rather than shy away from it. When our thighs start burning and the mind jumps in, “abort, abort!”, we can instead explore the possibility of remaining in the unknown. The inhalation becomes a doorway to greater space and literally creates more space in the body. By engaging in the breath and staying present, we can actually use our anxiety in order to open to possibility.
And then, take this ability to create possibility from your fear into the rest of your life. What neglected corners could use a little loving sunshine?
I had a crazy inspiration for this song. But who wouldn’t expect The Great Removal of Obstacles to have a great sense of humor? I had way too much fun with this one. Ganesha
This is one of my father’s favorite song. During one of my visits home, I corralled him into the bathroom and made him sing it with me for posterity. My father was the one who taught me how to harmonize (or at least, how to try!) when I was little. Amazing Grace
Circle of Soul taught me this song back in New York City. We would improvise the harmony lines together so the song was different every time. I recorded this in a fantastically resonate shower. Calling The Elements: Earth, Wind, Fire, Water
I arrived early to my Tuesday class, so asked some of the students if they had any inspirations for the practice. “Levitation,” replied one particularly cheeky monkey. “Inversions!” another cried. “I may get in trouble for this,” said a third, “but I’d like to do abs.”
Alright, I thought. Levitating, inverted abs it is.
Challenge is an inherent part of any arm balancing themed class. After all, a solid core connection is essential for any standing on the hands, and that invariably winds up being, well…hard. You need to connect to the arches of the feet, then follow the inner leg line of energy through the adductors, into the pelvic floor, into the transverse abdominals. It takes a little effort.
And now, I have to mention India.
While I was in India, I did not practice. Well, okay, maybe a couple times. But for the majority of my trip, I spent my time walking, eating, observing, haggling, and generally doing everything but yoga. So I went from having a 2 hours plus practice most days of the week to doing almost nothing.
And it was GREAT.
You see, about a week into my trip, I suddenly realized that something was different. I didn’t hurt anymore. The repetitive injuries that I’d been “working through” had faded and my body seemed to be functioning happily. Rather than fall apart without my yoga practice, my body seemed to be actually doing better.
Now, this isn’t because yoga is bad for you. On the contrary, yoga is very (very) good for you. But I’d been practicing in a way that became counter-productive. I had been over-stressing my body because I liked the challenge. I wanted to advance my practice, and it seemed like the only way to do this was to do harder poses. Wasn’t it?
There’s a part of all of us that thrives on challenge. On advancement. (You type A’s know exactly what I mean.) But when we overdo it and impose a practice on on our body, rather than experience the practice, our body sends us signals that we’re going too far. If we’re ambitious, we rarely listen and instead “push through,” only to be stopped in our tracks eventually by some sort of injury.
Does this mean we shouldn’t challenge ourselves? Of course not! But we must challenge ourselves while still respecting the voice of our body. So, in other words, how can we honor ourselves and still attempt levitating, inverted abs?
We must listen to ourselves. Rather than “do” your practice, “be” your practice. Be inside your practice, rather than inflicting it on your unsuspecting body. When the challenges come (and they always do), give yourself the space to respond rather than react. Instead of shutting off or overcompensating, breathe and integrate the experience. These moments of stress in yoga class are fertile ground for practicing how to consciously respond to anxiety off the mat.
Notice: what’s your pattern for coping with challenge? Do you ferociously attack it, or succumb without a fight? Can we practice being with the challenge without adding a psychological agenda? Can we actually soften in order to be strong?
Since you may be curious, we wound up practicing the transitions from tripod headstand to bakasana and back again. Fun, fun, all day long. Levitating, inverting abs, indeed!
Ajna Chakra, located at the third eye center, opens us to element of light. In addition to literally seeing, this chakra draws us into the power of visualization, imagination, and abstraction. We literally connect to a higher frequency (Vishuddha was the frequency of sound, Ajna of light) and our experience moves further beyond the tangible plane.
Suddenly, our world is much larger. We can use the power of our imagination to understand experiences beyond our own. Though the understanding of images and words, we can visualize our place in a greater context. Our sight is both external and internal. The sixth chakra opens us to the world of intuition, where we are assimilating information more rapidly than our conscious mind may process. We begin to learn to trust our sixth sense.
The power to visualize is a powerful tool that can expand or limit our consciousness. While our imagination can set us free to imagine possibilities beyond our immediate experience, we can also impose mental boundaries on ourselves that prevent us from moving into our potential. Discernment in the sixth chakra is the power to separate vision from illusion. As Anodea Judith writes, “Vision leads us forward and illusion holds us back. A vision is a possibility, a goal to inspire us, constantly changing and evolving. We know a vision isn’t real, and yet we believe in its potential. An illusion tends to be held as certainly and forced into place – something we believe is real and unchangeable. An illusion binds the energy; a vision consciously directs it.”
Exercise: Practice discernment between vision and illusion. Do you impose limits on yourself that have no basis in reality? Can you replace these assumptions with a visualization that pulls your more firmly into your real potential?
I learned this chant while on a yoga retreat from my friend Julie Blumenthal, who has the most marvelous voice. I created the hamony line myself. This was recorded in a bathroom with kick ass acoustics. Om Nama Shivaya
Guru – the dispeller of darkness. It’s a wonderful song for the wintery time of year! I originally sang this song with the musical group, Circle of Soul in New York City. I learned both the melody and harmony line with these fantastic ladies. Om Guru
The link from the heart chakra to the more etheric upper chakras, Vishuddha (the throat chakra) is the center of conscious communication. Like the second chakra, Vishuddha is a creative nexus. However, unlike the unconscious, earthy, and sensuous energy of Svadisthana, Vishuddha’s creativity is connected to our higher consciousness. Through its power, we literally express and identify ourselves in relationship to the outside world. We choose how to allow our energy to impact others, and use our voice to express our boundaries, desires, and needs.
Very pragmatically, we can sometimes feel as if we’ve “lost our voice” when there is a disconnect between our experience and our ability to communicate our needs. At other times, it is through communicating that we actually realize our own experience. For example, it is common to “hold it together” until someone asks us to communicate our experience. This act of articulating facilitates the integration of the experience, and causes us to “break down” or release the emotional energy.
A well-balanced throat chakra allows for an equilibrium between expression and listening. The element of Vishuddha is space, and it is in the openness and potential of this space that exchange can occur. Rather than engulf our listeners in a deluge of conversation or retreating into a silent shell, we allow for a meaningful sharing of energy and ideas. The powerful, unconscious energies of the lower chakras (our emotion and our ego) are refined and processed as we develop our capacity to communicate our personal experience with others.
Our lives are in continual, creative evolution. Through Vishuddha, we enhance our capacity to filter and share our experience with others.
Exercise: Notice your habits in conversation. Do you tend to dominate conversation, or retreat and stay silent? Do you fall into comfortable and disingenuous patter because it seems easy? Is there a better personal balance for you that you might find in increasing your capacity for conscious communication with others?
