Friday, December 23, 2016

Full Wheel

Today I went into the sewga room (really,  it's the single-purpose yoga room these days, cuz for how long can one ride on past activity?). I couldn't decide what to do. I'm recovering from an eye infection (but it's almost gone, thankfully, as it made me look like I'd been hit in the face and it hurt like hell). I'm not in a high-pain moment but it's really damp outside (which can be tricky for me). I'm also very tired. I know it's important to be active, to lift weight, but right about now I feel it's even more important to retain some perspective on movement.

As a sidebar, you know I've had some time to consider the nature of mobility. I've also had a lot of time to consider what it means to gauge everything by one or 2 indicators. So often, I think about how perhaps I've lost pose X, or my ability to do Y, instead of being super fucking grateful for how much extraneous flexibility and strength I actually possess. I mean, how much do I need? What is it that I'm searching for when my time to regenerate is focused on abstract loss? It's no new question, natch, but what would practice be like for everyone if, as a society, we started to laud the stiffness and weakness of which we are all, to some extent, comprised?

You've heard it again and again - I mean, I've said it again and again - one's practice is in no way dictated by how a pose looks. I wish I had been able to understand this in my youth, though youth is rarely wise. I wish I'd spent more time engaging subtly to gain awareness about how a microscopic movement can produce transformation, sometimes merely for a moment, other times forever. But evolution is on its own timeline.

When I say my practice is random, I'm both entirely serious and probably wrong. I walk into the room and I intuit what to do next. I ask my body the question. I listen intently for the answer. I push aside what I want to hear. I listen again. And I'm continually amazed by what craziness I get up to. Sometime I do whack interpretive dance without music (?!) Sometimes it's MELT and body rolling. Sometime it's lying in therapeutic poses, doing pranayama, for an hour. Sometimes I hang in ropes - I do every pose using some sort of prop for traction. I rarely practice with online classes in the winter, but I have a bunch of them. I prefer restorative and alignment classes (though I do vinyasa too).

Today was a strange day. Today I did active back bends. Ah, these used to be my prized poses, the ones that made me lively and flushed. They gave me access to the the dark flip side, as it were. These, and the inversions, were my go-tos. I haven't done urdhva danurasana (full wheel) in a long time - maybe a year - and I really don't know how the impulse came but I gave it ample opportunity to wander away, and it didn't. First, I worked on thoracic and sacral opening in a variety of traditional Iyengar set-ups (using chairs and belts and blocks). Then I did some rope work for traction. Then I got on the floor, with one belt around my upper arms and another around my upper legs (not regular practice for me but I'm not doing backbends on a daily basis and I wanted to be stable). I spent about 30 seconds fighting with my anxiety (not of doing the pose but of not being able to do the pose or of causing myself pain). Then I smacked myself metaphorically, like any good Iyengar teacher of the 90s, and I lifted up. Cuz thinking more about it wasn't going to get me anywhere.

A minute or so later, when I came out of the pose - which didn't cause pain - I lay on the floor and argued with myself. Should I do it again? Did I want to do it again?

I did not repeat the pose, though I wondered if it would have been fun the second time. I did not repeat that pose because it only needed to be done once. I used my muscles. I flexed my flexibility. I bore weight (all these things that are important for my spinal health). And the person I am, right now, needs to expend the minimum amount of effort for the maximum gain. It would have been hard to keep going. I would have achieved more. And in that achievement, I may have brought on pain.

How many times have I caused myself injury because my desire to achieve outweighed my better judgement? How many times will I do it in the future? No sense in worrying. Today my body and mind got it together and we came up with a viable plan. Can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.

12 comments:

  1. I love your posts about your practice. Thank you! Trying to figure out how to integrate my martial arts practice into my middle aged and busy life over here - and what you write is inspiring and fascinating. Listening - yes.

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  2. I love the way you write about your deep and thoughtful and knowledgeable engagement with your body and mind through (in? as?) yoga. I'd be envious of your long experience with it except that would seem to be missing the point. . . . I'd love to chat with you (over Amarone, of course!) someday about my tentative steps into a practice, still tentative, but at least joyous, mostly, definitely humble but often exhilarated. . . We've found a good-enough local class, and I'm so grateful. Struggling lately with low-grade depression/anxiety, and yoga is so centering, calming, empowering, re-minding. I don't always (often?) respond to your yoga posts in the comments, but I always read and think about them.
    And this seems a good time to wish you and yours a very Merry (at least Peaceful, okay?) Christmas -- our online friendship means a lot to me, and I thank you for it. xo

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    1. I had this whole dialogue with myself yesterday (while out grocery shopping) about how this time of year is here to bring upon us melancholy. It's an adaptive thing, I've begun to believe. (Wonder if you might agree?) So happy to hear that these crazy rants are well-received. I never feel more "crazy" than when writing the yoga posts :-) And I'm thrilled to know you Frances! My mum has just started following you (after I've told her for quite a while that she should!) We love to talk about your posts and photos on Instagram.

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  3. Interesting! thank you for talking about this pose that I hope to be able to do one of these days. I decided to just work on easy standing poses for now, because I'm having some trouble getting up from the floor (bad knee) - although I think I can get that ability back later.
    :-)

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    1. Standing poses are perfect! I never liked them, in the old days, cuz a) they were challenging and b) they weren't exotic like the backbends. How wrong I was. The standing poses are the foundation of everything. And I'm sure your knee will heal in time. Just be mindful and go slow. Everything arights in time.

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  4. Due to my osteoarthritis, I find yoga too intense right now, but have take baby steps to help myself by going to a gentle pilates class. She also teaches the MELT method and encourages us to listen to our bodies to avoid pain. Not the pain of well worked muscles , but the oh,oh now I've done it, kind of pain. I enjoy reading about your adaptations to your yoga practice. Too much perfection can be the end of us. We need to know it is ok to do what you can and be happy about it. Best wishes for a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful 2017. Barb

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    1. Oh, honey, I hear you. Everyday is new. Some days are HARD. Just keep going to your classes and listening to yourself. Wishing you a very good 2017 too, Barb. Kxo

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  5. I wish I could take yoga classes from you.

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    1. We would have so much fun! I'd love to have a blog friend yoga class!

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  6. Listening. Yes! I'm waiting out a broken toe then starting a weekly yoga class that I'm thrilled to have finally found. Lord knows I need to stretch things out a bit!

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    1. Ugh to the broken toe. Those things HURT! Keep me posted on your class and how you like it.

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