Time, a diagnosis, or an accident can change your yoga practice. Sometimes, there's a gradual shift, and other times, you have to pivot pretty quickly. These things don't have to signal an end to our practices, but they can inspire a change.
Listen to your body
Our teachers say that all the time because it's really important for your wellness.
A few months ago, I started feeling some pain whenever I did certain movements (on and off the mat). Over time, these pain episodes have increased in intensity and frequency. This issue became so intense that I quit popping my symptoms into WebMD and sought actual medical attention.
If you're a worrier, please don't worry here. Doctors aren't sure what's wrong, but they are pretty sure it isn't life-threatening. Yay for me! Long story short: My physical body is doing some weird stuff right now, and I have to have surgery to hopefully find and correct the problem at the end of April.
Ch-ch-ch-changes
Needless to say, my physical practice has changed. I went from being the person who took almost every vinyasa at full intensity and at least attempted the complicated asana in a playful sort of way to being the person who has to skip or modify every chaturanga. Arm balancing isn't anywhere on my radar. One of my favorite poses, Wild-Thing/ Flip-Dog/ chamatkarasana, is mostly shelved.
I've never been shy about recommending and using props or advocating for breaks, but this is the first time I've had to medically rule out a third to a fourth of each class. If I get pig-headed or accidentally go too far, I get immediate, harsh feedback from my body.
My practice looks different. It feels different. In the immortal words of 80’s hair band, Cinderella, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” (Yes, we can go from a David Bowie reference to a Cinderella reference in one section.)
Some of you are shaking your heads. You've been dealing with this forever, and you've found your way to navigate it. I knew you were out there, but I appreciate what you do so much more now that I am learning from this particular teacher. What are we to do when we love to practice, but we can't do all the things?
Show up anyway
This is not a plea to ignore common sense. Please continue to heed medical advice to keep yourself and people around you safe. Obviously, if you're ill from something that spreads, the responsible thing to do is stay home and get well or tune in online and get well. Listen to the feedback from your own body.
What I'm really saying is that this isn't an all-or-nothing situation. It can be frustrating to encounter, perhaps for the first time, that you are not able to take many of the cues given in class. Rex says, "Advanced yoga is not following directions."
The cues are just invitations to have an experience. You can decline any invitation you please. Nobody here will think less of you because you declined the invitation, and what we think really doesn't matter anyway. That's empowered practice.
I still feel that there's value in seeing the community in classes. Even if I can't do everything the way I used to, it's so important to just have a place to be. Sometimes I've got things on my mind that I don't want to talk about, but I don't want to be alone either. Union Yoga is a place for us to be. It's a place that can fill that need.
Take a rest
If you’re not well, showing up is not a requirement. I think we get it into our heads that a yoga practice has to last for 60+ minutes, occur X number of days per week, and there should be sweat. It's a very physicality-based perception of practice. Now, I can’t speak for all disciplines of yoga, but at Union, we are not bound by those rules.
Depending on what’s happening, you might not roll out your mat at all. Some days my practice looks like trying to catch two mindful breaths in the middle of a pain episode. It's harder than 75-minutes of whatever I used to do.
Maybe you can move for ten or fifteen minutes, and then you feel tired. Taking a rest is okay. Taking a rest DURING class is okay. Lingering in a rebound is okay. The enforcers of dogmatic yoga aren’t going to burst in and revoke your mat because what you're doing wasn't trending on Instagram. They don’t have jurisdiction here. This is your practice.
There are other limbs than this
Oh my gosh, the chart is back! When we say yoga is an 8-limbed path, we don’t mean that yoga has a central node of asana with seven other little limbs branching off of it. You might think of the 8-limbs more like a wheel. All the parts are significant, and if you don’t attend to each of the limbs, the surface of the wheel is going to have flat spots. That’ll make for a clunky ride!
Even better, each of these limbs takes a fair bit of time to study and practice. If you choose, you can devote your life to this practice, and you still won't know it all. Some people don't like that, but I think it's marvelous. Knowing everything is boring!
My understanding of the limbs (beyond their basic definition) continues to evolve as I practice. We can intellectualize until the cows come home, but nothing takes the place of doing the work and having experiences. Words fail us on some of these limbs (especially the stuff that comes after pranayama) because descriptions are just projections of things that actually happened.
Some of my best teachers didn’t even touch postural yoga for decades. They were busy with the other limbs. So there’s no need to feel like you’ve got to move to practice. The earliest depictions of yoga show a being sitting, perhaps for meditation. Sitting was the posture – not flying, balancing, or seeing if you can get the sole of your foot to touch the back of your head. Those things are fun for some bodies, but they aren't all there is.
Freedom Pose
Your practice is one giant Freedom Pose if you want it to be. It’s an exercise in noticing, responding to the things you notice, and observing some more. It’s being empowered enough to make decisions about what you’re doing based on the feedback that only you can feel. That’s a wise practice, and it’s especially important if you’re recovering from an addiction or trauma. You are the boss of you. “No,” is a complete sentence needing no further explanation.
You can get your entire concept of what yoga is free from anything bounded by a sticky mat. You can find mindfulness when you are stirring your coffee or tasting your green tea. You can walk on the earth with loving steps. Rather than become frustrated with the uncooperative body part(s), you can see this sick or injured or tired part of you with great tenderness and compassion.
At least... that's what I've been working on lately. Maybe you can work on it with me. You can tell me how you're doing it, and how you're doing. We can still practice, no matter what.