Taking a yoga class can feel like a mini-vacation. For 60-75 minutes, you get a perfect excuse not to read the notifications on your phone, respond to emails, or think about what’s happening at work, at home, or in the world. You’ll even have a guide to tell you exactly what to do for the duration of the class. You don’t have to make decisions. What a trip!
Escapism is the outermost layer
This notion of escapism drew me to yoga classes when I was working through my eating disorder recovery and coping with my spouse’s first deployment. I didn’t want to worry about anything. I just needed a place to be. My experience may not be universal, but I know it’s not uncommon. In my time working in studios, I’ve encountered so many people looking for a place to decompress, to grieve, to feel safe… You can find all of that in class.
Take a look at how yoga is marketed broadly, and you’ll see that escape is a common thing for sale. I mean, who wouldn’t love a yoga getaway where you wake up to beautiful scenery, the rooms are airy and Instagram-worthy, and your job is to work on yourself? Sounds nice. Sign me up. (Seriously, I need to go on the next retreat.)
And then came the feelings…
The longer I engage with this practice, the more I’ve come to realize that it’s the opposite of an escape, though. Students might start to notice this soon after the novelty of attending classes wears off. One day you’re minding your own business, doing what the teacher says, etc., and the next thing you know, you’re feeling some feelings.
I remember being so shocked when the teacher told us to go into Virabhadrasana II/ Warrior II pose, and it evoked actual rage. Where did that come from? Another time, I tried to meditate in a group, and I sweated and suffered through the whole 15 minutes because I couldn’t sit still and I couldn’t move at the same time. We can’t forget savasana, either. A short savasana provoked only low-level anxiety that I easily dismissed as me just being a ball of energy, but the first time I was asked to remain in Corpse Pose for longer than 5 minutes, I could hardly stand it. I was afraid of the dark. I had stuff to deal with (and believe me, we've all got stuff), and no amount of doing exactly what the teacher told me or buying the right mat was going to fix any of it.
In those moments, I began to learn to do the thing I always encourage students to do. I want you to notice. So much of this practice is about opening a dialogue between the physical sensations and mental fluctuations happening within you at any given point. The first sensations and thoughts we notice are the loud ones. They grab our attention and make us ask, What's that all about? This sort of metacognition – this What-is-my-brain-thinking? business – is very much about being exactly here in the present.
With recognition comes agency
After you begin to notice what comes up for you in asana and meditation practice, you can really start diving into all the limbs of yoga. The teacher’s instructions can only take you so far. Yoga teachers are usually compassionate people who love yoga and have taken lots of training in order to create an environment in which you might also practice yoga. They do not, however, know your story, your triggers, or your trauma. They can pick up on subtle cues to determine if their instructions have landed correctly, and they can sometimes see if you are pushing yourself too hard. They can’t read minds, though. They can’t tell you how to feel.
I felt so free when I recognized that my practice was my own. Instead of “maxing out” every movement, I began to focus on increasingly more subtle layers of experience. Where exactly is the threshold between ease and effort in my practice? What is it about certain practices that bring up particular feelings? When is the exact moment that this goes from feeling easy to feeling like work?
Yoga and the entry into reality
This svadhyaya (self-reflection) that we practice in relation to our practice naturally spills over into our lives outside of our practice. In fact, one might argue that when you reach this point, your practice and your life have become the same thing.
I still take classes to have a "place to be", but I'm also practicing throughout the day. You can do this by becoming mindful of the sensations that arise when you consume media and entertainment or interact with other people. This isn’t so that you can hide under a rock and avoid all discomfort. It's just so you can notice and care for yourself.
This practice is connected to ALL of life – not just the pleasant parts. I do stay informed. I also watch how my body and mind are feeling while I watch the news or have a conversation. When there’s a sense of joy, ease, or well-being, it registers with me. I recognize the sensations and allow the interaction to continue.
When I begin to feel over-stimulated, I know it’s time to step away (maybe just for a few breaths, but sometimes for longer depending on the situation) and regulate my nervous system with the help of the practice. This keeps me calmer which enables me to have a reasoned response instead of a big reaction. I can’t say that I do this perfectly, but yoga sure does help.
Take a break, and then get into it
Yoga may provide you with a temporary mandatory technology break. You may get your mini-vacation in class, and that feels nice. Yoga also helps you metabolize reality. It helps you maneuver in a sure-footed way through uncertain circumstances by keeping you rooted to the here and now. In the coming weeks, I want to dive more into the ways that yoga can help us regulate our nervous systems. I’m thinking it may be the best way to make our chats relevant and useful for you.
What do you think? Is there anything in particular that you want to read about in Always a Student? Do you think yoga is more about escaping reality or traversing it? As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts.