Yoga Moments: Relaxing Into the Pose ... And Life

I went to a yoga class last Friday that was taught by an instructor I had not previously met. I found the class challenging and frustrating. Why? Because if was composed almost entirely of poses I had never done. And they were challenging. The main reason I started going to Yoga classes was to address my lower back pain and the stiffness that has resulted from cycling. But most of these poses required far more flexibility that I was capable of.

Furthermore, the instructor used a vocabulary that was full of words that I had never heard and which I didn't know the meaning of. Plus her voice was very soft and, combine that with hearing that isn't as good as it used to be, the result was additional frustration.

I left the class discouraged and somewhat resentful. I had had such a good class the day before, but I felt resentful that my budding practice had been overly challenged, even though the instructor had offered words of encouragement and emphasized that wherever we are at is fine. I was also somewhat concerned about the new pain in my lower back.

The next morning, I felt much better, both physically and emotionally. I guess my lesson was to resist the urge to rush to judgment - a lesson I can apply in all areas of my life. 

Another important lesson: to relax into the pose. Stop clinching and tightening muscles that aren't involved in the pose. Stop squeezing the glutes, don't tighten quads that aren't involved; don't be so rigid that I prevent myself from relaxing into the pose and focusing on what it is intended to accomplish.

As I thought about this, I also saw the broader application of this lesson to life in general: rigidity can detract us from relaxing into what life may be trying to teach us, a relaxation that can build strength and flexibility and create openness in an area of our lives that was once tightly constricted.

Yoga Moments: Namaste and Awareness

Namaste.

One often sees bumper stickers featuring this word. If one is familiar with the practice of yoga, one also knows that each session ends with the bringing of one's hands together as depicted in the above photograph and uttering this word: first the instructor expresses this to the students, then they in turn express it back to him or her. In a nutshell, it means, "The light within me recognizes and honors the light within you." (See the bottom of this post for an extended definition of namaste and the practices associated with it.)

I had a great yoga session on Thursday with a new instructor who I really liked. I learned a tremendous amount about the actual practice of yoga, but I also came away from the class with a couple of new realizations. 

First, sparked by a reading she did at the end of class as we sat with our eyes closed and our hands over our heart center, I came to see "Namaste" in a new light. Paula pointed out that, before extending namaste to someone else, one should extend it to oneself. In other words, we recognize and honor the light within *ourselves,* recognizing who we are and what lies within us. Thus enlightened, we then extend a recognition of the same to someone else.

Second realization: Paula talked a lot about "awareness." A term commonly used to express a similar concept is "mindfulness." But the way Paula used the term "awareness" gave me a new insight. "Yoga is awareness," she said.  As we practice, we become aware of what our body is going or not doing. We focus on the pose, what we should be doing with our inner thighs and way; what we should be doing with our feet and why; what we should be doing with our tailbone and why; etc.

This concept of awareness resonated with me because I have seen and felt the results of letting my mind wander during a yoga class. I get into a pose, and the next thing I know, I've relaxed a foot that should be engaged, or I've otherwise slipped out of the pose as a result of lack of concentration. Sometimes my mind has wandered so much that I miss the instructor's call for a new pose or a variation on the pose I'm already in. 

It has been a new adventure for me these past months as I have become aware of my body in a way never before experienced. I have a new respect for my body, a new "intune-ment." As a result, I have felt a growing desire to treat it with respect, particularly with regards to what I take into my body. I have also seen the need and felt the desire to be more aware in all areas of my life.

And this brings me back to "Namaste." One of areas of practice I am trying to bring my mind back to is to be aware of both my own inner light and that of others.

Namaste.

******************

I learned a lot from this explanation of Namaste, found here:

The gesture Namaste represents the belief that there is a Divine spark within each of us that is located in the heart chakra. The gesture is an acknowledgment of the soul in one by the soul in another. Nama means bow, as means I, and te means you. Therefore, namaste literally means "bow me you" or "I bow to you."

To perform Namaste, we place the hands together at the heart charka, close the eyes, and bow the head. It can also be done by placing the hands together in front of the third eye, bowing the head, and then bringing the hands down to the heart. This is an especially deep form of respect. Although in the West the word "namaste" is usually spoken in conjunction with the gesture, in India, it is understood that the gesture itself signifies Namaste, and therefore, it is unnecessary to say the word while bowing.

We bring the hands together at the heart chakra to increase the flow of Divine love. Bowing the head and closing the eyes helps the mind surrender to the Divine in the heart. One can do Namaste to oneself as a meditation technique to go deeper inside the heart chakra; when done with someone else, it is also a beautiful, albeit quick, meditation.

For a teacher and student, Namaste allows two individuals to come together energetically to a place of connection and timelessness, free from the bonds of ego-connection. If it is done with deep feeling in the heart and with the mind surrendered, a deep union of spirits can blossom.

Ideally, Namaste should be done both at the beginning and at the end of class. Usually, it is done at the end of class because the mind is less active and the energy in the room is more peaceful. The teacher initiates Namaste as a symbol of gratitude and respect toward her students and her own teachers and in return invites the students to connect with their lineage, thereby allowing the truth to flow—the truth that we are all one when we live from the heart.

Yoga: Finding Community

I had a cool experience yesterday. I was going to use the word “neat” to describe it, but I’ve been self-conscious about doing so ever since using it in describing something to my 15-year-old son. “Neat?” he said, laughing. “Who uses that word?” So I’m dated.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. Life has been really, really busy lately; but I’ve also not felt a desire to write.

Mark and I have been putting a lot of time and effort into training for a bicycle tour we are doing in late August and early September in France. We experienced a setback in early June when our bikes were stolen, followed by a weeklong trip to southern Utah with the kids. Then, when we got back on the bikes in mid-June and putting some serious mileage on them, I developed severe lower back pain. 

It took me a couple of weeks to realize that my bike had not been properly fitted. By then, the pain was debilitating on climbing rides. I became increasingly depressed about prospects for training the rest of the summer. Because of this, I decided to go to some yoga classes at a studio very close to our house to see if that would help. 

I was caught totally off guard by how much and how quickly I came to love yoga and how much I looked forward each day to going to a class (first two weeks for $30). I loved how my body was feeling after class – stronger, more limber, cleansed. My lower back pain began almost immediately to improve (and I took my bike back and had it refitted, which also has helped a great deal) and continues to do so.

But there was something else. Part of it was the sense of positive energy I felt in class and the sense of peace that I became aware of and benefitted from. Part of it was the energy, enthusiasm and wisdom of the teachers. But part of it was also the growing sense that I was becoming part of a community of others like me who are seeking health, wholeness and peace, who are loving and accepting with no ulterior motives. 

This sense of community has been growing over the past couple of weeks, but it was the experience I had yesterday that gave texture and substance to this sense of community. I had gone to a yoga class and had then popped into the grocery store next to the studio. Upon entering the store, I heard a female voice say, “Joseph!” I was momentarily stunned. No one has called me by name in any store that I have entered in the area I have lived for the past three years. 

I looked in the direction of the voice and saw one of my yoga teachers (my favorite) with a huge smile on her face. (She has always been exuberant and had met Mark and knows that we are a gay couple.) As I walked toward her, she put out an arm in a gesture inviting a hug. I responded, surprised but pleased. She then started asking me about my upcoming trip to Oregon (which we are now on), about the class I had just attended (with a different teacher), etc.

It was a small thing, yet a huge thing. I am part of a community of loving, respectful people. I look forward to getting to know others in that community, to sharing and growing, to learning what yoga has in store for my physical, emotional and spiritual self and to contributing my own peace to that community.

“I like the fact that my attraction to yoga is growing organically out of me. Because of this, I am developing confidence that I will learn more about yoga, but not necessarily on what I perceive to be my timetable. I have to learn to trust that path. The same applies to my Buddhist path. I’m not immediately going to try to go out and learn all I can about the path that has been opened to me, as if I could just put on such knowledge like a cloak that would envelope me. No. This process must be organic and grow out of me. By allowing this process to play out, I will be led to where I need to go.” 

Journal, 5 July 2014

P.S.: The lead photo was taken on Big Beach in Maui in May 2012.

My Practice

We went for a 21.5-miler yesterday morning.  It was the first time out on a ride since my bike fitting, and boy, could I tell the difference.  Everything was easier.  Every time we start out and climb 3900 South up to Wasatch Boulevard, it’s easier.  There was no speed wobble.  The big hill just past the entrance to Big Cottonwood Canyon was easier.  I’m learning.  Good rides like this give me hope that I really can do this Corsica thing.

I scheduled a 5:30 class for Introduction to Yoga, thinking that the class would give me more background in fundamentals, more “theory.”  In this, I was a bit disappointed.  I found the class every bit as challenging as the Power Yoga class I took on Friday, and I didn’t really get any “theory.”  The instructor did talk about the importance of breathing, how this is the foundation of yoga.  But for the life of me, I couldn’t really focus that much on breathing when I was trying to do and maintain the various poses.  

I was really stiff and sore yesterday and didn’t feel the slightest bit flexible.  This may have been due in part to the fact that I had gone directly to class from the gym, where I had just done a weight workout, followed by 30 minutes on the elliptical.  It was during the class that I realized that I had overdone it:  a ride followed by weights, followed by cardio, followed by yoga was a bit too much for one day. 

It was thus during this class that I asked myself, “Why are you doing this?”  Why, at age 53, am I taking up so many new things?  

I had been chatting a bit before the class with the instructor, a young woman around 20 years old, and her mother.  In the course of the conversation, they asked how many yoga classes I had attended.  I replied that this was my third at this studio, my fourth overall.  The mother mentioned a class that had been held that morning that she highly recommended.  I commented that I had been out on a ride that morning.

“Are you a cyclist?” asked the teacher?  I laughed.  “No,” I replied, “but I ride a bike.  I’ve been for about as many rides as I’ve been to yoga classes at this point.”

The instructor and her mother then talked about yoga, and how, when it comes right down to it, they consider themselves “practitioners” of yoga.    They “practice” yoga.

I really like this term.  Practice.  Buddhists use it with reference to meditation and an individual’s spiritual journey.  They recognize that one’s journey toward enlightenment is just that – a journey – and that it requires practice.  One works away at it, day by day, moment by moment.  There are no tests.  Everything is individual.  

So, returning to the question I had posed to myself, i.e., “Why am I doing this?”  In one sense, I think I am trying to make up for lost time in my life.  There is so much I want to do, so many books I want to read, so much I want to learn, so many experiences I want to experience.  But I know I have to respect my body, as well as my psyche.  I can only do so much.

Thus I return to the concept of “practice.”  My practice.  Balance.  Perspective.  Purpose.  Treating my life like a garden that must be nurtured, cared for, tended, weeded, watered and fertilized.  An on-going project that will, in due time and season, yield its fruit, but the tending of which has its own purpose and rewards.

"Worrying is praying for something you don't want."

~ Bhagavan Das

Getting Fitted

Yesterday started off with a "Power Yoga" class.  OMG, I didn't know whether I'd make it to the end of the class.  I wore a cotton sleeveless workout shirt, and it was almost completely soaked with sweat by the end of the class.  Even when I work out on the elliptical at the gym, I don't sweat that much.  Anyone who thinks Yoga is for sissies obviously has never been to a class.  Next time, I will know to bring a water bottle, wear a nylon shirt and bring my headband.

My hamstrings, meanwhile, are still recovering my our ride on Wednesday.  We didn't get one in on Thursday, and it rained yesterday.  I have the Quads today, so we're shooting for tomorrow morning for our next ride.

I went in yesterday afternoon to have Mark's old bike fitted to me.  It will be money well spent.  I had never heard of having a bike "fitted" of course, since I know next to nothing about cycling.  Patrick, who was doing the fitting, put the bike up on a platform, then proceeded to affix colored dots to various parts of my foot, ankle and hip.

Then, using the camera that is visible in the lead photo above, he shot images of how I rode on the bike, which were then transmitted to a computer, also visible in the photo. 

He didn't need the camera, however, to see that the saddle was too high for me.  Mark had already lowered it when we first started riding, but it was still too high.

Patrick then had me grip the handle bars in three places, in succession, while he filmed me.  He then took individual frames and analyzed the angles of my legs, back, etc.

The "Before" Picture

The result was illuminating.  The first thing Patrick did was to fine-tune the saddle height so that the angle made by my leg would be in the acceptable range.  He then showed me how I was tending to hold my foot at a downward angle, causing the pedal to be at an angle.  

The pedal, Patrick explained, should be kept as flat as possible; that way I would use more of my major muscles in my leg instead of my calf muscles.   Mark had explained that I should pedal like I was wiping my feet on a rug, but I hadn't completely understood the principle until Patrick explained it in this manner.

Once the saddle height was fixed, he turned to the handlebars.  The above image graphically illustrates what I had intuitively felt:  the position of the handlebars was wrong for me.  I had felt like I was too hunched over on the bike, that the stretch was too long for my arms and that my shoulder and neck positions were wrong - but I was and am new to cycling, so I didn't know any better. 

Patrick changed the stem (to which the handlebars attach) and put on a different handlebar, and these changes made all the difference.  The following image shows the "after" picture.  Much, much more comfortable.

Now, I'm looking forward to riding tomorrow to feel the difference!

Later that afternoon, I drove to Bountiful to pick up Nathan to go see "The Avengers."  He had called earlier in the day to tell me about his latest injuries.  He broke his clavicle in late March while playing frisbee at school.  Then a few weeks ago, he badly sprained his ankle.  

On Thursday, Nathan was on top of the garbage cans at the house which are right next to the low fence separating our property from that of the neighbor to the north, owned by the infamous Gary and Carla.  (Don't ask what he was doing on top of the garbage cans; he's 13.)  He lost his balance and fell, breaking off the tops of a couple of boards in the fence and landing on a pile of debris that Gary had piled next to the fence - stones, wire, etc.  In the result, Nathan had to once again be taken to Instacare.  He has bandages on his wrist and chest and abrasions on his legs.

Nathan and me on our way to see "The Avengers" yesterday.

Now, one would think that the neighbor might have shown concern for Nathan.  But not Gary.  Gary and Carla hate kids, and they hate ours in particular.  Example:  one time about two-three years ago, Gary came to the front door, visibly shaking with anger.  He told me my kids were throwing mud at his house and if they did it again, he'd call the police.  

I went out to the back yard and saw that Levi, 4, and Annie, 2, were playing in a bit of mud next to the fence that had been created by water leaking under the fence from Gary's fountain.  They had apparently, being kids, started throwing a bit of mud around, and some of it - perhaps the size of their tiny fists - must have gone over the fence and hit the side of Gary's house.  I couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of the situation, but sternly warned the children that Gary would call the police if they threw mud at his house again.

There were other incidents, equally silly.  We had to warn the children that they were not, under any circumstances, to go into Gary's back yard, e.g., in case their ball accidentally went over the fence into his yard.  They were to be careful to stay on the sidewalk when in front of their house and never step on their grass, etc.

Well, Gary called the police after Nathan fell, I supposed because he had damaged a couple of the boards in the fence.  The whole situation is beyond belief.  Among other things, the fence does not belong to him, and in the eleven years that the family has lived in that house, he has never done a thing to maintain the fence, whereas I have replaced rotting boards, stained the fence, etc.

I suppose there are people like Gary and Carla in every neighborhood.  Sigh.

Breathing In

Our yoga studio.  I love the exposed brick, the wood floors, the "earthiness" of the place.

My daughter Hannah took me with her to her yoga class last summer up in West Vancouver, B.C.  As I wrote while we were in Hawaii, that was my first experience with yoga.  I was surprised at how rigorous it is and wondered whether I could make it through to the end of the class.

Then, while in Maui, Mark and I started doing poses every morning on the beach, adding one new pose each day.

Other than these experiences, yesterday was my first yoga class, and I loved it.

The class was a "restore" class, which was billed as one that is designed to “restore energy, vitality, mobility and in a gentle viniyoga-based movement class.”  Throughout the gentle stretching, breathing was emphasized.  It didn't take me long to realize that I had no problems breathing out, but breathing in over a sustained period was proving challenging for me.

As I experienced this phenomenon, I thought about it being a metaphor of sorts for challenges I'm facing in my "spiritual practice."  Just that morning, as I was driving to the studio, I was thinking about recent experiences that had reminded me, yet once again, of the difficulties I face in loving and honoring myself and the very real consequences that flow from this handicap.  

I had been discussing this with Mark over the weekend and he had reminded me of something he had learned in his own spiritual practice:  when we have an unhealthy tendency to judge ourselves, we then find ourselves guilty, and in consequence we then find ways to appropriately punish ourselves.  To put it mildly, this is a self-destructive behavior pattern that brings happiness and fulfillment only to the ego, but no one else.

As I was pulling into the parking place in front of the studio it hit me:  one of those totally self-evident realizations that nevertheless transform our thinking:  a big step in learning to love myself is to stop judging myself.  Then once I've stopped judging, I need to feed myself, to honor myself.

Which brings me back to breathing.  In one pose that I found particularly energizing as well as enlightening, we laid back on a bolster, then brought the soles of our feet together.  It's called the Reclined Cobbler's Pose.  My whole body felt energized as I did this, but my spirit was energized as I listened to the teacher encourage us to breathe out bad "stuff" with every exhale and to breathe in good stuff - whatever we needed - with every inhale.

Just as I need to work on improving my inhalation capacity, I also need to work on feeding my spirit and psyche by breathing in positive energy, rather than constantly judging myself and feeding my own poor self-esteem.

That's what I learned at my first yoga class.  Not bad, I thought.  Can't wait for the next one.

"It's not what you look at that matters.

It's what you see."

~ Henry David Thoreau

"Self esteem is the immune system of the mind and of the spirit."

~ Lee Pulos