Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving bounty from my local farm share here in Boston

When this time of year rolls around, I get very excited for eating a lot of food and sitting around the table with my family. It is not often enough that we are grateful for the sake of being grateful, it is more often that we count the many things we want but haven’t yet attained. In yoga, gratitude is a regular practice. It is something that brings us back to a place of contentedness and happiness with our lives as they exist in this very moment. It is an important lesson not to be taken for granted.

Lately I have been experiencing high peaks in stress and am running around like a nervous little anxiety robot. My students leave my class telling me how relaxed they feel, and this is puzzling to me because I am so tightly wound up inside I am surprised that this isn’t coming through into their practice. Of course, I am grateful for this. But outside my teaching, in my everyday life right now, I am more reactive than ever. I have found myself honking the horn while driving my car, nagging my roommates, and taking everything personally. It’s tiring, frustrating, and I am having a hard time breaking the cycle. I am at a point where I feel like I need to make a change but I am not exactly sure how.

I think it is important to be aware of your present state, good or bad. Don’t try to control it or get down on yourself for being or feeling a certain way. Just be present with it. While we can willfully make efforts toward change, it has to come from a genuine place inside. We have to be prepared for all of the things that come with that shift. If you have ever been a smoker, you understand fully what I mean. Quitting smoking or overeating, giving up sugar or meat are all things that we know would be good for us, but we have to be ready inside ourselves before we even attempt it. We have to have that genuine, honest, innate desire and drive to do so, otherwise we will fail.

Quite often our imbalances can serve as signals or clues that a shift needs to be made, and they can indirectly suggest what mode of action we must take. If you have a cold, perhaps you should try eating an orange and drinking some hot tea. If you blow up with anger and frustration every time you visit your family for the holidays, perhaps you should try learning anger management tactics like taking some deep breaths or counting to ten. Being ready to remedy our imbalances takes a lot of practice, certainly. But most importantly it requires the willingness to make an effort, a steadfast effort over time, and perhaps for the rest of our lives.

On Thanksgiving I am grateful for my healthy body and sound mind, my loving boyfriend, my cat, my roommates, my adoring mother, my beautiful friends, my safe apartment, my job, my students young and old, and above all, my Guru. But I am always thankful for these things. This year on Thanksgiving I am working to be grateful for my challenges. To be grateful for the stress, the anxiety, the crazy Boston drivers, the arguments, the nerves, the clammy palms and sweaty pits, the disrespectful neighbors, the short breath. It is these things that will propel me into action, into making a shift in myself and my life. I recall that I never would be a yoga teacher if I didn’t burn out in the business world. It took that horrible experience to bring me where I am today, to where I know I need to be. I am thankful for my challenges, and for the opportunity to make a change for the positive. For the opportunity to grow.

PS- Save a turkey, eat tofurkey

Feed Your Brain: Sirsasana

Headstand, or Sirsasana, is at times referred to as the King of the Asanas because it needs to be approached with a great deal of physical awareness. It requires that many different elements be present as it is practiced, including but not limited to physical strength, alignment, mental focus, and postural balance. Though attainable for many, Sirsasana requires much skill, strength, and focus in order to be achieved. It is a destination point along the path of a dedicated asana practice for many yogis, and understandably so. There are many benefits to headstand, and once the fear is overcome, it is just plain fun.

Having an asana goal to work toward can be a good thing as long as it doesn’t become a distraction, hindrance, or obsession in your practice. Building up towards an advanced posture can give a great boost to other elements of your practice and make you physically stronger. As I began to become familiar with headstand, I would notice that postures like Vrksasana and Dolphin would come a little bit easier to me. Dolphin is a great prep for headstand pose, because you use your trapezius muscles, your deltoids, and your upper back to support the body as you breathe. It’s a crucial pose to feel comfortable with before you approach headstand. As with most other poses, your core is very active as well. Forearm plank and forearm side plank start to look better aligned, and variations of urdhva danurasana (upward bow or wheel) or pincha mayurasana (forearm stand) begins to become more accessible.

There are some ways that working towards a specific posture in asana class can become a hindrance to your practice. Yoga is meant to bring us closer to a place of acceptance, of calmness, and contentedness within ourselves as we already are. Of course the purpose of the practice is ultimately to better ourselves and that requires effort. The frustration that comes from learning and practicing something new can detract from the greater purpose of your yoga practice, but only if you let it. Frustrations also bring about another opportunity for growth by being reminded to practice patience with yourself as you learn, and by keeping humble in your practice when you don’t attain a goal as soon as you might like. Perhaps even more important is working to remain humble if you do attain the posture on your first attempt or few attempts.

There are dozens of benefits to practicing headstand. It stimulates circulation, the lymphatic and immune systems, gives your heart a break from pumping the blood upwards towards your head, and brings fluids that gravity pulls earthwards back upwards into parts of the body they couldn’t get to on their own. Ancient yogis said that the fire of life burns in the belly, and that turning the body upside down temporarily decreases the fuel or life force being fed to the fire, thus prolonging life when practiced consistently over time. Headstand can help with the common headache, can rejuvenate the flow of blood to the glands in your brain, and reverse the downward pressure on your skeletal system. Headstand has many benefits that we are unable to feel physically, which is another beautiful part of the mystery of yoga.

It is imperative to be sure that you are very energetically centered and focused before attempting headstand, for it has the potential for injury if not done properly. Sirsasana builds your focus just by practicing it. It is so precarious a position that it becomes quite difficult to think of anything else as you are working with it. It is important to practice with a spotter and an experienced teacher, and to not attempt it unless you feel very strong and active in your own practice. It can be helpful to practice against a wall for the first few times you do it so you don’t become distracted by the fear of falling backwards. It is also imperative NOT TO KICK UP INTO HEADSTAND. Never kick up into headstand. Do not kick. Did I mention never, ever to kick up into headstand? This puts unnecessary pressure on your neck, which could end up supporting the weight of your body if you kick. You must have the core strength to be able to lift your legs together at the same time. This is absolutely the only way to ensure you will get into the posture safely. Ideally when you are in headstand you are pressing down through the upper arms so you don’t have as much weight, or eventually any weight, on your neck and head.

Starting on all fours, take your hands to opposite elbows to properly align your arms. Then clasp hands and tuck your bottom pinky inside the hands so it doesn’t get squished. Find the very tip top of your head… usually people think this is closer to your forehead but it’s actually on the higher end… imagine drawing a line out of your neck straight up…. that’s your crown. Place the crown between your hands and press firmly down with your arms so you have little to no pressure on your head. Tuck your toes and lift your knees off the floor, like downward facing dog. This is your headstand prep pose… feel free to work here. Perhaps you lift one leg up, not to kick, just to work strength, for a few breaths, then take it down. Then lift the other for the same amount of breaths before taking it down. Take child’s pose. Come back into headstand prep. Tiptoe your feet in towards your elbows, ensuring also that your elbows are still drawing towards each other as they press downward. Squeeze your inner thighs together and see if you can draw your legs off the floor. Be mindful of your neck as you do this, pressing down through the arms. Perhaps you will work here for awhile, floating the feet an inch or two off the floor, eventually a little higher, and eventually all the way up over your hips. It takes a little while to have the strength and courage to keep those feet up, they want to splay forward. It’s natural.

Once you feel aligned and comfortable in Sirsasana, see if you can find a finer alignment within the pose. Hone your awareness in again on the many muscle groups of the body, striving to keep all of them active. Notice how energizing different muscles can make the pose easier in some ways. Pressing down through the upper arms and forearms relieves pressure on the neck. Activating the entire core, the sides of the torso, and tucking the tail further aligns the joints and stabilizes the posture, enabling it to be held for a longer period of time. Glutes, quads, hamstrings, every muscle is active. ­­­Try also to really imagine the skeletal structure of your body coming into perfect vertical alignment. Flexing the feet, spreading the toes, reaching up through the heels, pressing up at the arches of the feet, and activating the inner calves and thighs as you continue to press downward with the upper arms can give this posture more lift. This tiny effort taken over and over again within your posture makes the body almost lighter and easier to hold up. The act of focusing and strengthening through all of the different parts of your body is not possible without being completely focused on, absorbed by, and present in the pose. Once you feel still and in your best alignment, take your awareness to your breath, just as you would in any other pose. That feeling of complete stillness, and a subtle union between a still body and a still mind may even become apparent for a fraction of a second. If you are diligent, you can maintain this stillness for a few rounds of breath, or eventually, for minutes at a time.

Focusing in Sirsasana will enable you to build a sense of deeper inward focus when you are going about your daily, right-side-up, life. Finding a sense of meditative stillness when in such a challenging and vulnerable position is a milestone in one’s spiritual practice and can further encourage a sense of calmness and clarity in the world off the mat. It can be easy to become excited by a success or get caught up in the surface element of the way the posture looks externally once attained. The very moment the ego gets involved, the sense of purity and the fruits of all effort are lost.

Deepening your understanding and familiarity with a specific asana posture is a practice in personal growth. There are dozens of opportunities to get discouraged with the posture, the practice, and even ourselves. Working towards something without the desired result for years can be wearing. But that’s the practice. There are things we can’t control, and it takes work to find a sense of equanimity in the midst of all effort and challenges, even in goal we may never be able to attain. Practice being patient with yourself. Take a break from the posture every so often, and then visit it again with a beginner’s mind. Remind yourself that this is a lifelong practice, applaud your efforts no matter what the result, and then rest humbly in the grace of balasana (child’s pose).

New Schedule for Fall

Hey Friends!

I am very excited this fall to share my classes with more of you! Here is my current schedule:

Mondays 930-1045 O2, South End ($7)
12-1 VIM Fitness, Central Square ($15)

Wednesdays 930-1045 O2, South End ($7)
12-1 VIM Fitness, Central Square ($15)
715-830 Gallery 263, Cambridge ($10) (Starting Oct 27)

Thursdays 12-1 WOW, Medford (Guest Pass)
600-715 The Distillery, South Boston ($10)

Fridays 10-1045 OmKids (Age 3-4, bring your tot!), Watertown

Also teaching privately at The Harvard Club of Boston, Lowell School, Commonwealth School, and your living room? Write me: karen.omshanti@gmail.com with questions

Yoga Is Dope

I recently had the experience of teaching yoga to the youth of inner city Boston. Like most wonderful things in life, it happened through an unexplainable and nonsensical chain of events… that all began in an asana class. Meeting Anthe, the woman who had recently spearheaded a non profit organization called “the greater silence corporation” was fortuitous indeed. Her mission was to bring yoga into the public schools at no cost to the school, and had attained a little grant money to get it started. Anthe wanted students to feel a connection with a greater silence that exists just beyond the state of focus, just beyond the distractions of every day. I was excited by this opportunity to bring yoga to the youth and to grow as an instructor. Within two weeks of meeting Anthe, I was poised to teach at a camp called “Summer Spot,” a youth program for middle school kids of Dorchester, MA, for six weeks out of the summer.

I was terrified.

Unfortunately, I remember middle school. It was horrible. I had braces, and really awkwardly long limbs. I had crushes on boys that were grossed out by the sight of me, and a group of girlfriends that were not really my friends (frenemies?). I remember school dances spent crying in the bathroom. I remember the different cliques I would sit with at lunch. I remember questioning everything about myself. That was also almost twenty years ago, and I am far from current on what middle school is like in 2010. I was sure that the kids would see me as kind of a geek, just like they did in those days. I feared that horrible feeling of rejection and disillusionment. But I came up with a curriculum and rallied, thinking that if all else failed I could impress them by standing on my head.

When I walked into the school on that first Monday to teach, I was quite nervous. The coordinators decided to split the classes up into boys’ yoga on Monday, girls’ on Wednesday. The rationale behind it was that the kids would feel a little more comfortable trying something new with body movement without the distractions of having members of the opposite sex in the room. The more I thought about it, the more I liked this method. Middle school is awkward enough without trying to stick your rear end in the air in downward dog with your crush a few mats away. With this in mind, I took the approach of working both with postures and philosophical discussion in each class. For the most part, I focused on one of the yamas or niyamas of Patanjali’s Eight Limbs of Yoga. We talked about a different aspect each week: Satya (truth), Dhyana (focus), Santosha (contentment), Ahimsa (non violence), Tadasana (mountain pose) and Vinyasa (flowing with breath). I was prepared with a curriculum to introduce the students to basic postures and philosophical principles of the practice. But my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating, just like my first day of sixth grade.

I met the boys first. These guys had so much energy and so many things to say and ask. I tried to get them to stand still on their mat, which was nearly impossible. There were staff members from the camp that were in the room practicing as well, so that was quite helpful in keeping the kids focused. It was in that first class with the boys that I adopted the cue, “mouths closed, minds open.” It was something that just came to me and I am sure it has been used before. But it was a great mantra to employ with the energetic boys, even when they couldn’t heed the message. We did some basic asanas, like warriors and prasaritas, learned sun salutations, and practiced crane pose. One of the boys just sat on his mat the entire time, unphased and unmoving. Some stared at me blankly and quizzically but made efforts to do the postures properly. Others followed along with every pose, often with immediate commentary or questioning. “Shanti, am I doing it right?” “Shanti, are my knees supposed to hurt?” After we did some standing postures, one of the guys in the back remarked, “I feel mad loose!”

Through the majority of the class I had to keep things moving along fairly quickly in order to keep the boys from distracting each other and themselves. But, there was one moment where we might have achieved Anthe’s notion of the greater silence in class. We stood in tadasana, breathing in to sweep arms out and up overhead, and breathing out to take hands in prayer at heart center. I asked them to do this three times only, focusing on the breath and nothing more. It was a fleeting moment, but I did hear nothing but breath and sweeping arms for three full cycles. To feel an entire room grow still and focused, that only moments before was filled with chatter and commotion, was truly awesome. (To check out a video of the boys first class, go to http://www.thegreatersilence.com/ and click on the second clip, posted on 7/15/10.)

On Wednesday I walked in with a little more confidence after experiencing the energy of the boys on Monday. But to my surprise, the girls were total opposites. They looked at me as though I had two heads. With the girls I felt like I was pulling teeth in order to get them to take a breath. Some of the girls were from Somalia and had a strict Islamic dress code they had to employ at all times, so were practicing asana with long flowing skirts and head scarves. This hindered their practice in a way, because it seemed to always distract them… but it was sweet to watch how they worked with it, constantly adjusting the skirts in warriors and in supine asanas. I found that the girls were more defeatist than the boys were, saying things like “I can’t do that!” before they even tried, and would rather fall into a puddle on the floor than hold a posture for more than a couple of breaths. But unlike the boys, they kept silent during savasana (resting pose) and were able to sit together silently as a class for a few moments at the end. When they left they were all thankful and smiling, and after the first week the entire Summer Spot group voted yoga their favorite class!

It was an invigorating and thrilling start, and I worked hard to ride that wave for the rest of the summer. There were many days where we had great discussions about how to treat others with compassion and how to be kind to yourself. There were some days when my voice virtually was not heard. I found that when there were no other staff members present I had a harder time keeping the kids focused. For the girls this meant lolling around on their mats listlessly while sighing heavily. For the boys it meant switching mats, leaving the room, talking constantly, blowing up balloons, and running down the hallways. I actually heard myself say at one point, “This isn’t the circus, it’s yoga class.” So much for keeping my composure. It was very difficult to discipline this group and still lead a class… I can’t imagine how schoolteachers do it.

I had the experience after teaching a particularly tough week where I had to totally let go of the experience because it was so unsuccessful. I was disheartened by the lack of interest and felt that I must be uninteresting as a person. It was middle school all over again. But the following week there were new students who came and really enjoyed it. I had one boy ask me if he could come to the girls session too, he liked it so much. There were two boys who stuck out to me as yogis… One was a very tall basketball player who embraced it because the pros did it, the other a spunky little fireball who liked to stand on his hands and do any pose called “Warrior.” Whatever their reasons, they connected to the practice, and I gave each of them a yoga mat at the end of the summer. Perhaps it will sit in the corner of their bedroom for years, but maybe it will get some use and will inspire them to continue practicing.

The last day the group presented me with a big card with the words “YOGA IS:” at the top. The kids wrote many adjectives with which they would describe yoga. Among them were the words magnificent, blah, awesome, helpful, bubbly, calming, exciting, fun, relaxing, cool, and special. But the word that stood out to me the most was “dope.” Yoga is dope! Who knew? It was a sign to me that on some level, I had reached them.

When I developed the curriculum I had a great vision of yoga changing the lives of these kids, bringing them peace in tough moments, bringing them a profound sense of calm, bringing them to realizations on how to treat themselves and those around them, how to approach life in this world. But in retrospect I should have realized that it may never come anywhere near that. That is what yoga has done for me, in my life, over many years of practice. For these kids, this six week course over the summer served simply as a mere introduction to the basic principles of what yoga is. They were in a place where they could feel safe to try something new and to ask questions about a practice that they were rarely exposed to in their everyday lives. Many of them took only one class. One of them tried to steal a mat. I can’t tell you how many times I heard the phrase, “I hate yoga!” in that six week period. But kids are kids. You never know what they are going to do with what you give them. They are young, their lives can go anywhere. Perhaps the next time they get the chance to try yoga, they will approach it with enthusiasm. Or perhaps they will say that the only yoga teacher they ever had was a total geek. I guess I will never know, but I hope someday to find out.

The Breath~ The Path to the Heart

Today I was shelling peas in my kitchen while thinking about a disagreement I was having with a loved one. Even though I kept trying to bring my awareness back to my breath, my heart, and the task, I continually got wrapped up in dramatic text messages while heaving heavy sighs. I was so distracted that every so often peas would spill all over the kitchen sink and even onto the floor. Sometimes we allow negative experiences in our day to seep over into the rest of our lives, and it’s difficult to get ourselves out of that funk that seems all encompassing. Sometimes we are so attached to our own sense of right and wrong that we become unable to let go of things that later seem trivial. Sometimes we allow our emotional tension to become so gripping that we don’t even realize that we are holding our breath.

The breath. Inhale, exhale…it always comes back to the breath. Breathing is the only thing we really must do, it is an involuntary mechanism that the body uses to continue living. On a very surface level, the breath takes oxygen in and dispels carbon dioxide out. Carbon dioxide accumulates fast in our bloodstream, which makes it acidic, so it is imperative to breath continually in order to release it. For this reason, it quickly becomes more necessary to release carbon dioxide than to accumulate oxygen. Controlled breathing helps to bring all of the systems of the body together, synchronizing our neural and nervous systems. We can live days without water, but we cannot live long without the breath.

The breath not only gives you life, it calms you, it soothes you, it’s sound is a mantra that can connect you deeper to the person you are inside of yourself, without all of the distractions of our outer layers and external experiences. The old saying ‘take a deep breath’ is something that most people have experienced as being helpful in moments of stress or turmoil. The breath is both inside and outside of our bodies. We can control the breath with pranayama, in meditation and asana practice, and achieve greater awareness and spiritual awakening. The breath links us to ourselves, to the rest of the world, and conceivably even beyond.

As a devout asana practitioner, sometimes I feel like I use the practice to bring myself out of my world and my head, and into a place of focus. I don’t feel like this is a bad thing, I just feel like I should be better able to do that off of my mat, too (there I go, judging my practice again). When we become overwhelmed in asana class, what do we do? We don’t drink water, contrary to popular belief and action. We take a child’s pose, Balasana. By bringing the forehead to the floor, the hips to the heels, and outstretching the arms forward or along the sides, we can regroup. We can catch our breath. There are often moments in my day that I would love to come to the floor and take a child’s pose. In some ways I feel like the breath is the child’s pose of life. It is often not possible to drop to the floor and place my head to the ground, but I can always take a deep breath and try to connect to my heart.

What is the heart, besides a beating organ that pumps oxygen into the bloodstream, thus giving us life in every moment of the day? To me, the heart is love. When I feel emotions such as deep joy, or even sadness, I can feel a subtle sensation where my heart is. The term ‘broken hearted’ refers to this sensation, and unfortunately, certainly most readers have experienced a broken heart. But many of us have experienced the feelings of deep joy as well, perhaps to a point where we feel a little tickle and have to place a hand on our chest as a smile breaks out across our face. How is it possible that our emotions can give us tangible physical experiences like this?

Because our body is one large functioning unit of many smaller systems, we are eventually able to come into contact with many subtle parts of ourselves with practice. Noticing how we physically react to strong experiences is the very first step to becoming aware of these more subtle parts of our being. When we have a crush on another person, the heart flutters a little when that special someone enters the room. When we feel stress, we don’t even realize that we often tense up between our eyebrows. When we are nervous, we sense an unsettled feeling in the belly referred to as ‘butterflies in the stomach.’ These are all major centers of nerves in the body, and most of them align with our chakra system. Chakras (translated as ‘wheel’ in English) are little balls of energy within us that we can tangibly feel with practice or with intense emotional experiences. Once we can feel and understand our chakras, we are then able to connect with something on a deeper level within our being, and we can begin to understand that sense of expansiveness within our physical body.

In my yoga school (Shambhava School of Yoga) we have a practice that helps us to connect with the heart chakra by recalling a special person or experience that brings us feelings of deep love and happiness. From here, breathe deeply and reflect on the memory. Eventually perhaps a subtle sensation will begin to grow in the heart, or even a gentle smile begins to spread. Let the feeling ruminate until it becomes the central part of your focus. The next step is working towards keeping these wonderful feelings in the consciousness while letting go of our image or idea that evoked them at the onset of the exercise. From here, we can begin to feel a greater sense of love that is independent of anything else. The point of this practice is to deeply acknowledge and understand that all of the joy, love, and goodness we experience comes from inside of ourselves, not from external objects, people, or events. Eventually, with practice, that sensation and experience of joy can be felt in the heart just by taking one breath, without conjuring up any peripheral memory. The breath, again, connects you to the love that exists within you.

Even though I was unable to shell my peas this afternoon in a meditative fashion, I did notice the nervous and agitated feeling within myself and my being, and attempted to quell it. I made a few concerted efforts to focus on the task and stay present, and I also took a few deep breaths into my navel chakra to help ground myself. Sure, I wasn’t successful in keeping the steadiness of that peaceful feeling consistent, and yes, I was allowing myself to become absorbed in menial dramas. But I have to be more patient with myself… I tell my students that yoga is a lifelong journey, but for many it’s something that spans scores of lifetimes. I acknowledge that in this life, I am not perfect. I understand that the bliss that exists within me is not immediately available without a concentrated effort, and most often I forget or neglect to take that effort. Though this all makes me feel terribly far from enlightenment, as my good friend Kshama would say, “That’s why it’s called PRACTICE.”

From the Ground Up

Being so far away from our mind and our face, it can be quite easy to forget about our feet. Feet are perhaps the least loved of all body parts. Many people don’t like the way they look, and as a result wind up covering them or closing them off to the rest of the world. We’ve all seen the socks with sandals look, the guys wearing sneakers at the beach, or the yoga student who refuses to remove their socks. But our feet are our roots, our connection to the earth. Our feet bear our weight, our feet keep us safe and stable, our feet keep us balanced. Besides a pedicure, when was the last time you showed real appreciation for your feet, or even love or affection?

As a yoga teacher by day and waitress by night, I rely heavily on my feet. When I first began practicing I immediately noticed all of the space between the toes of regular practitioners and instructors, and I wanted my feet to look like that. I never was one to wear high heels, but still my toes seemed scrunched together comparatively. Since then, I have spent quite a bit of time cursing my feet, for my baby toe does not want to move independently of the others. I also feel an intense throbbing and aching in my feet at the end of a long shift at the restaurant, which can only be alleviated with a little Viparita Karani (legs up the wall). My mother has had the same experience of foot loathing. After years of high heel shoes and one running injury, her second toe crosses over her first toe on her right foot, and she spends so much time hating her feet, wishing they looked different, wishing they could better support her. I have heard her talking to those feet, asking them how they ended up that way and wanting them to change.

How many different parts of our bodies do we hate? How much time to we spend wishing we looked different? If we instead directed our energies to loving these parts of ourselves, how much happier and healthier would we be?

Walking barefoot in some of the gyms of my area leaves my feet needing a little TLC. Cracked edges, rough spots, and sore arches are all symptoms I experience regularly. Some nights I douse my feet in sesame oil and slip socks on before bed, waking up to velvety toes. An Epsom salt soak or lavender oil treatment could make you feel like a new person. If you don’t have time for something like this, just hold one of your feet and rub it between your hands and thumbs. If you can’t reach your foot, trade foot rubs with a loved one, roommate, or a friend. Keep socks on if your toes make you feel self conscious! And make disciplined efforts to keep feet free of fungus, athletes foot, or other inconveniences that cause us to further hide and squelch the little buggers. Wear flip flop sandals at the gym, and keep your feet sock free while you sleep.

In yoga class, make a concerted effort to pay attention to your foot placement and alignment. In downward dog, look at your feet. Notice if you can see your heels, and tuck them out of view, behind your toes. Press down through the outer edges of your feet and lift your arches in Virabhadrasanas (Warrior Poses) and other standing postures. In lunge poses, really pitch the heel over the ball of your foot, getting a deep stretch across the arch and the base of the toes. Think about the sole of your foot becoming broader and more firm in the ground when you stand in Tadasana (Mountain Pose). Over time, your feet will begin to transform, even if only slightly. You may start to experience and see space between the toes, feel less cracking and more fluidity of movement. You will begin to decipher between little parts of your foot anatomy, and the smaller parts of your foot that you need to access in order to maintain balance or ground deeper in certain postures. You will also notice that the moment your feet begin to strengthen, as will your legs and other parts of your body.

Reflexologists say that our feet can tell us much more about what is going on in our body than we may even know. The art of reflexology is a form of alternative medicine that is rooted in the belief that different parts or ‘zones’ of your feet correlate to different parts of your body, including your internal organs. Small massages or gentle pressure applied to the specific parts of your feet are said to be beneficial to overall health and longevity. A good reflexologist could touch your foot and know whether you experience back pain, headaches, or indigestion. Ayurveda, the science of yoga, is an ancient practice that is geared towards overall balance and well being of the individual. According to Ayurveda, if you rubbed your feet every day, you would never get sick.

A lot of physiological problems start with the feet. Knee pain, back and neck pain, even digestive issues can be related to weakness in your feet. Most foot pain is attributed to bad shoes or shoes that don’t fit, or high impact exercise or activity. For foot care, doctor’s recommend RICE: Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation. It is good practice to walk around barefoot in your house whenever possible. To build strength in the feet, try this exercise: Stand with feet hips width apart. Lift up onto your tiptoes and hold. Release heels to the floor, and repeat as desired. Try to do this exercise daily to strengthen the feet and legs. The more we can adopt gentle practices to build strength, the easier it is for us to avoid injury.

In Devotional (Bhakti) Yoga, there is a phrase that you will often hear “I bow to the lotus feet of the Guru.” This is the act of honoring and surrendering one self to the ancient teachings of yoga practice. The lotus feet of the Guru is a place of refuge, a place of love, happiness, and appreciation. Peasants used to line up to wash the feet of Jesus Christ. Perhaps if we started looking at our own feet a little bit differently, we could start to appreciate all that they do for us and all that we put them through. Perhaps we would start to show our feet a little more gratitude, and a little less disdain. Maybe we could begin to love the way our toes look without polish. Perhaps we would pick up the pumice stone and take it to our heels a little more often. Even if we may never spread fully through the toes, or even if we can never put our foot behind our head, we have to remember to honor our foundation, our base. For without it, we would certainly fall.

Uddiyana Bandha

Part of the joy of being a beginner yogi is listening to the rolling prattle of Sanskrit fluidly undulating off of the tongue of the instructor. For some time these words can seem meaningless, yet their smooth sound has a soothing effect. As practice progresses, these words begin to be associated with certain postures, then eventually, specific parts of the body, directions, and even names of animals. One of the Sanskrit phrases that confused me thoroughly the first ten or so times I heard it was “uddiyana bandha” (ooo-dee-YAH-na BAHN-da). It always made me smile a little to hear it, and usually seemed to come at an intense moment of the class. Before I understood what it meant I would wonder why it came with such emphasis and seriousness.

Uddiyana can be translated as “upward flying” and bandha as “lock”. The lock is located in the lower abdomen about three fingers below your navel; it is a band of muscle between your two hipbones. This space can be engaged in a full range of ways, in such a way that it feels slightly firm, or even intensely engaged, drawing the belly in to such an extreme that it is visibly pulled up and under the ribcage. For asana, we work towards something in the middle, as a start. For pranayama, we reach towards the more extremely engaged end of the spectrum.

To engage uddiyana, pull the low belly in and up towards your spine. For many, it takes awhile before you can even begin to recognize that it’s there. There are several things you can try in order to find it. First, lay on your back with knees bent and feet on the floor. Take your hands to your belly at your hip bones, and begin to press the arch of your low back towards the floor. While you will not actually lose that space between the back and the floor, you likely will feel your belly begin to engage. If this doesn’t work, stay on your back and stretch your legs out on the floor in front of you. Try to lift your heels an inch off the ground…this is a surefire way to notice your lower abdominal lock.

This feeling of a strong and engaged core is what you should be striving for in most of your yoga postures. Ultimately, you want to work to keep uddiyana bandha engaged throughout the entire class, and beyond if you can. This lock stabilizes the body by aligning the hips and spine, drawing strength from the center rather than the extremities. This will build more power at the core for the body to draw from, while also decreasing the potential for injury in the hip and shoulder girdles, as well as in the outer limbs. Once the core becomes strong and a part of practice, it makes a multitude of postures easier and more accessible. Tackling that sirsasana (headstand) or bakasana (crane pose) starts to feel achievable, or lightly jumping back to chaturanga (low plank) and up into handstand becomes a sudden possibility. Basic postures like tadasana (mountain pose) and trikonasana (triangle pose) feel more natural and stable. Balance takes on a whole new meaning when you bring your focus and strength to the center line of the body rather than working to steady the limbs. A stable and strong virabhadrasana III (warrior 3) or ardha chandrasana (half moon pose) are attained and realized further with this lock. Applying uddiyana bandha incorporates a certain grace and agility, an ‘upward’ lift to all postures, as well as to the space in between them.

There are also more internal benefits to this lock. It is said to keep the digestive organs clear and moving, and it helps to keep the flow of energy sealed inside the body, building prana (life force) and heat while assisting in the removal of impurities within (tapasia). According to ancient yogis the solar plexus, or Manipura Chakra, is the seat of fire within our physical and psychic systems. The lower chakras are the energy centers of many vital functions and health issues within the physical body. Keeping this part of the body active and working prevents lower back problems and promotes healthy adrenal glands while improving kidney, bladder, and liver function, taking the benefits deeper within. Uddiyana is another example of how yoga has benefits that we don’t even realize are there during our practice—we can’t visibly see the results or even feel them physically, but over time they can make a difference in longevity and health just beyond our realm of tangibility.

When uddiyana becomes engaged it is difficult to understand what to do with the breath at first. Naturally, our breath moves down into our diaphragm, causing it to drop and the low belly to push out. Keeping uddiyana locked requires effort on the part of the yogi to keep the breath above the belly, filling the lungs and ribcage more fully instead. Almost automatically, ujjayi breath is activated, which is an audible sounding breath swirling around in the back of the throat. In addition to building focus and concentration on the breath’s sound, ujjayi is a powerful pranayama that heats the body and stimulates the flow of blood, increasing your circulation as well as your metabolism. Taking in more air also oxygenates the blood, which keeps the blood healthy and more resistant to disease.

I have students that grimace every time we take navasana (boat pose) in class. When a student requests core you can hear the others in the room groan with disapproval. One of my dearest friends just lays on her back or takes a child’s pose whenever core work is happening in class. There seems to be a misconception that yoga is supposed to be easy. While nurturing and providing an outlet for stress release, relaxation, stretching, and opening, yoga is not easy. If we ignore our core muscles, we will likely end up imbalanced, and with a higher potential to injure ourselves. We cannot rely on our limbs for strength, for we will wear on our joints and tear on our tendons. While core strength has the benefit of a slimmer waistline, it also holds the rest of our body together. With this in mind, strive towards rejoicing in core strengthening postures. Resist your resistance! Feel the intensity of the body building strength, the heat inside building, the sweat forming across the brow. Acknowledge that this effort will not go unnoticed or be in vain, but will rather build towards a safer and stronger practice. Also know that in a few short breaths, you will be granted rest.

As you begin to notice your body acclimating to yoga and asana practice, you might find yourself correcting your posture as you stand over the sink, or taking a deep breath when you feel tension forming in your psychic system. These are good and right efforts that will bring a certain element of comfort and joy over time. Similarly, try to incorporate uddiyana into your daily life. When you are doing heavy lifting, bending over, or reaching, pull in on your lower belly lock while keeping your spine straight. While in the garden weeding on your knees, draw the shoulders down and belly button up. Keep your energy centered, protect yourself from injury, and celebrate your strength, awareness, and diligence. Uddiyana is just another way to get closer to all that is within us.

Battling with Resistance

Why is it that the things that are good for us to do are often the things we most avoid? While steamed leafy greens, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, or skipping the butter all sound relatively easy in theory, how often is it that we actively put such brilliant ideas into practice? Why is it that the simple task of donning raingear and riding the bike seems so much more daunting than reaching for the car keys? Or perhaps on a broader level, why is it we hold back from going for that promotion or asking that cutie across the studio for their phone number? What are some ways that we can cultivate honor, respect, and compassion for ourselves and muster up some courage towards making change?

Resistance comes in many forms. Conjuring up excuses is one of them. Having unrealistic expectations is another. Succumbing to personal disrespect and indulging in the opposite of what we know is right is one of the most drastic forms of resistance, and perhaps the most severely addicting and potentially repetitive. It takes work to open up to the things just beyond our comfort level, especially when we find ourselves in an unproductive or destructive pattern. As a practice, we have to strive to lean into our discomfort and only then will we begin to grow and expand with diligence and grace.

I find that for me, avoidance is my most common form of resistance. We all have things we tend to avoid, some of them help us and some of them hurt us. The effort exists in not only avoiding the potentially harmful things, but in resisting avoiding the things that could benefit us. In recent months I have suffered a lapse in my personal meditation practice. I seem to justify it by my hectic schedule of long and odd hours, and my living situation of a full house with no private place to sit. To atone, I find myself practicing asana at the studio religiously, or working to remember to repeat a mantra as I do the dishes or work in the garden. Even though I feel the pull from my pillow each day, strategically positioned at the center of my bedroom, millions of tiny obstacles are keeping me from actually sitting on it. My boyfriend is in the bed snoring, I feel tired or hungry, I have to leave in twenty minutes, my email is more interesting, something needs cleaning, there’s noise outside… these are all reasons I have allowed to deter me from the cushion, even this very morning. Aside from all of the distractions, I am well aware that it is just simply my own resistance that keeps me from sitting. My resistance is the very roots from which these obstacles seem to blossom.

Sometimes, it takes some risks to grow. Taking a seat on my big comfy pillow in front of photographs of my favorite teachers hardly seems like a risk. But to be honest, I feel a sense of self-pressure for a successful sit. I have a hard time looking Muktananda or Buddha in the eye as my mind chatters on about sheer and utter nonsense. For me, and likely others, there is a sense of peace and awareness that I know I am striving for, and perhaps I feel too far away from it to even try. I know in my heart that I shouldn’t judge any of my efforts, and shouldn’t have expectations to have my sits come out a certain way. But I have found myself in a pattern in which I do.

I have heard my teacher explain remedies for such a lapse, and usually it goes along the lines of diving head first into a regular practice. He suggests setting and committing to a time, and practicing for at least 45 minutes early in the morning and a half hour at night. For awhile, getting up and sitting was something I just had to do, but with new circumstances and living situations I fell out of the flow with it, my pattern became interrupted, and now here I am a few months later with practically no practice whatsoever. It seems that sometimes the longer you go without doing something, the harder and harder it is to do it, even if it used to come easily and naturally. Everyone has excuses, and there is always a reason not to practice. But sometimes we are required to make a drastic shift to get things moving back in the right direction.

Often the drift from a healthy pattern or supportive practice feels good at first. Letting go of something that can seem oppressive or nagging might even be freeing, in a sense. But it is important to acknowledge the tendency towards indulgence over the measured effort towards wellness. Cheating on a diet can feel and taste good, but if we eat ice cream sundaes every day it is likely not going to keep us feeling great for long. There is a tendency for us to fall off the wagon, but then hesitate before we try to get back on. Instead of giving up on ourselves and rolling over into the mud, it pays to get up quickly and start running to catch up to that wagon, before it takes off over the horizon.

Konalani Sharanam

The Sanskrit word “Sharanam” can be translated as “to take refuge in.” I have come to learn that everyone can have a sanctuary or refuge where they can find peace, take a few deep breaths, and recharge the batteries, so to speak. For some that sanctuary may be mom’s kitchen, for someone else it could be a good book, or for another tea with a dear friend. For me, I very much feel a sense of peace and refuge when I am on one of the ashrams of my yoga school (Shambhava School of Yoga). This winter I was gratefully asked to offer my service at a teacher training at the Hawaii ashram. I felt that this was an apparent opportunity for me to grow as a yoga teacher, but also a rare chance to serve and share with other like-minded people. This experience of offering my seva (selfless service) enabled me to give back to the place and the practice that I feel helped me become a more centered individual.

It wasn’t difficult to leave snowy Boston, Massachusetts and head 6,000 miles west to the beautiful Konalani Yoga Ashram. Whenever I enter the ashram after being away for some time, I can feel joy rising up into my heart and a loving smile creep across my face. I recall the feelings of a younger me, learning how to instruct yoga with a group of beautiful, enthusiastic individuals. Arriving a bit nervous but open to anything, I found a spiritual practice that I hadn't quite realized I had been seeking. I felt a bit like I had come home in spite of the newness of it all. Now, nearly two years later, I still feel that sense of newness on the ashram. Perhaps it could mean that I am always in a different place in my life, or that my practice keeps moving to a new level… perhaps a little bit of both. I try not to focus too much on what it all means and just work on absorbing as much as I can while I am there. Each time I go is separate and beautiful in its own way. I find excitement in different things, have deeper spiritual experiences, and understand a little bit more about the practice.

Walking down the gravel path of the property in Kona, I notice the soft hues of the afternoon sky and the tinkling sound of Bodhi tree leaves on the breeze as I chant mantra and open my heart. The gentle air feels like silk, just humid enough so you know it’s there, and just warm enough to be comfortable in a skirt and sandals. When a peaceful moment such as this arises, I always feel grateful for Babaji Shambhavananda, my teacher, for having these ashrams for me to experience, and for showing me this way of living. I feel more connected with the rest of the world, and safer within myself as well. The blues, pinks, and purples that meld over my head feel like a part of my very existence. I feel blessed by the opportunity to be here, to serve, to feel like a part of something greater than myself. I wondered how many sunsets in Boston I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate because of the hustle of everyday life.

I feel so blessed to have a place where I can go to keep spiritual work as the central focus of my day and my purpose. At home I teach yoga at different times every day, and my schedule is quite irregular. Like many, I struggle with finding a time to meditate that is consistent, as well as with keeping up with a regular asana practice. The schedule at Babaji’s ashrams is always the same, with meals at 7am, noon, and 5pm. A typical day begins at 5:30 am with chanting and meditation, which concludes right at 7. After breakfast, there’s yoga on an open air deck from 8:30-10. I would often teach or take class, unless I had a special cooking project I was working on. At 10:30 the TT’s (the acronym we affectionately call the teacher trainees) have philosophy class, and during this time I would prepare lunch. After lunch was class and workshop on the yoga deck, and I would assist the program director, Swami Devananda, in guiding the TT’s through posturing, adjustments, and cueing. Class would adjourn at 4:15, and by 4:30 everyone would be changed and in the shrine room for meditation. After our five pm dinner, the last few hours of the day were comprised of free time. Many of us would take advantage of this time by enjoying the sunset, practicing the ukelele or djembe drum, helping in the kitchen by making ghee or a tasty dessert treat, or creating yoga sequences for class assignments. The common areas close at 9:30, and then the TT’s retired to their dorm rooms or the tents up in the mango orchard. Most of us welcomed an early night’s sleep after the fullness of each day, with the anticipated morning meditation fast approaching.

When I started meditating at Konalani, I felt a lot of sheer bliss. There is a spot just to the left as you exit the shrine room where one could stop and admire the Pacific. When I first learned the practice I spent a good five minutes or so in that spot every morning, holding the railing, swaying… taking in the vastness of the early morning sky, and the deep blues of the bright and churning ocean. I sometimes joked that this was the “coming down” spot, where I would pause to process the bliss I experienced before reentering the group and facing the day. But on this recent trip, my sits were far less blissful and much more aware. I felt more compelled to help in the kitchen in the moments just after sitting and before breakfast. A firm push on the heavy door swung me straight into moving meditation, helping to make Kona coffee, slice a papaya, or chant the blessing before the bell was rung. Meals were taken on a covered lanai that overlooks the ocean, and often we would spot whales jumping while we ate.

There’s something about the ashram and working so hard to focus during meditation, as well as the constant physical work and yoga, where I just always feel STARVING. It’s something that I can’t really explain, because in my regular routine I am quite active yet eat only two meals and a few snacks in one day. In my travels to the ashram, I often hear the teacher trainees persist, “I thought I was going to LOSE weight at a Yoga retreat!” Everyone embraces this fact, though, and goes back for seconds and sometimes thirds. Meals are made to nourish both the physical and subtle body (your spiritual energy or chakra system), and it is said that food made on an ashram is filled with Shakti, or divine energy.

There is no experience like cooking for a group of yogis. On the very basic level, the food is vegetarian and deliciously healthy, colorful, and bountiful. On a more spiritual level, the chef is putting care into the preparation, stirring the soup and cultivating love in the heart, or chanting a mantra while chopping vegetables and doing the dishes. I was once told the mantra, “Om aim hrim klim chamundaye viche” has been said to turn the food into nectar. These little customs make the cooking itself a spiritual practice, preparing each meal with love and devotion, with the intent of not only feeding and pleasing those that eat the food, but also bringing peace and happy energy to the table and the rest of the day. I had some powerful experiences of surrender while working in the kitchen. There were many days I was not on time for lunch, or I was unable to make the food look and taste the way I had envisioned it. Part of my own work was to let these attachments go, to make my offering come from a place of love and wholeness rather than worry and uncertainty.

One of the things I love most about the ashram is how much meditative work is possible when not sitting in the shrine… how much focus, mindfulness, and awareness everyone puts into each effort and action. I had some very strong sits while I was there. Practicing with my eyes open, I could sometimes see different layers of lightness in the air, everything softening around me, with the feelings only of peace and the flow of my breath. I think it’s difficult to put into words what exactly I experienced. Some of the most fascinating things happened off of the pillow. Once, as I was adjusting my class while they rested in savasana, I felt the space between my eyebrows fill with an open and warm feeling, as if a million rays of sun were shining out of it. It was totally spontaneous and unexplainable, but nevertheless I had to sit down afterwards. Even as I type it I find the experience hard to believe, but it was one of the most real and tangible feelings I have ever encountered. There were painful moments, too, where I doubted myself, my ideals, and my decisions. Through each experience, though, there was an ability to let things be, a quiet resolve towards stillness and acceptance. And in each, an opportunity to grow.

Now that I am back in Boston and living the lifestyle of what my teacher calls, “an urban yogi," I miss the pre dawn wake up and the satisfaction of whipping up a meal for 13 in an hour and a half. But there is much of my experience that I can take with me, the challenge is putting it into practice in the world in which I live. During moments where the business of the day and responsibilities can overwhelm, I strive to remember the peace and beauty that is only a breath away. This lesson is one of the most valuable that I have learned, and continues to bring me soundness and calm even in the throes of my greatest obstacles. And each afternoon, I try to smile and feel peace and warmth as the sun sets over a chilly New England.

Asana~ A Moving Meditation

I first exercised my interest in meditation practice at a Buddhist Center housed in the basement of the Social Security building in my town. I would make great efforts to dress respectfully and comfortably, arrive in a timely fashion, take my shoes off, and quietly smile at others in the room. But when the time came for me to sit on the Zafu (meditation cushion), I would simply watch with great interest as my mind would play over happenings of the day, plan evening meals, and recall the trivial things I had forgotten to do earlier. When I finally got to the point where I realized I was daydreaming or lost in a train of thought, I tried to “let the thought float by like a cloud,” as I had been encouraged to do by so many teachers. But I could never really fully understand what that meant. From here, I would begin to envision a cloud and get lost in some visualization of nature that made no sense and connected with nothing. Though it was always a peaceful and relaxing feeling, it didn’t feel close to any sense of bliss or energetic awareness, and certainly didn’t feel like meditation.

I often felt that I could easier find calmness of the mind while practicing asana. It took me many sits, but the bliss of a quiet meditation practice is a different kind of stillness that I eventually came to appreciate as uniquely beautiful. However, on days when my mind is going a million miles a minute, I sometimes find it easier to attain that deeper sense of focus while twisted up in Garudasana than I do with japa (repetitive) mantra on my pillow. It frustrates me that this is the case, but often it takes my body and my breath moving in unison to physically pull me into that meditative space. My mind can be such a little chatterbox. When I find myself in Savasana, I work on bringing my awareness to my chakra system and try to focus on my mantra practice. Though these feelings can’t compare to the stillness I have felt on my pillow, the brief reprieve from the world and the effort towards self care always feels to me like a triumph.

People don’t realize it, but they want meditation. They want an exit or a freedom from the hectic ways of their everyday lives. I firmly believe that is why yoga has become so popular in recent years. Life in the modern age can be incessant, trying, nagging, and paralyzing. People need an outlet to relieve stress, to bring their focus to the purely physical experience of challenging the strength and flexibility of their bodies. People need to forget the noise, the distraction, the need to always be working and pleasing others, at least for some period of time out of the day. I have seen asana practice provide that outlet for many. And for a few, this glimpse at peace can spark an interest in a contemplative or silent meditative practice.

Techniques involving seated meditation are difficult for some. The heat building element of asana practice, called Tapasia, assists in cleansing the physical body of impurities. It brings a physical shift and a sense of relief, which is a form of instant gratification. The happiness that comes from a regular seated meditation practice does not come so instantly, but it is worth the time and the effort. Meditation can find you when you aren’t really looking for it, at times. Perhaps the next time you get to the studio and the class is full or you find yourself with a bum knee and stuck at home, monitor your reaction and make an effort towards your spiritual growth. Turn off everything, find some quiet, and sit still, listening to your breath.

The true goal of yoga and a meditative practice is ultimately to find a sense of union between the finite and the infinite self. The tangible work that we do on a physical level in asana can bring us into the present moment, helping us discover a place of stillness and quiet inside of our very selves. In such moments of silence, there exists a feeling of vastness within that is said to connect all beings and bring about an expanded sense of awareness beyond the physical body. Attaining such an experience takes practice, discipline, and focus. Many people that practice asana may never have such an experience. For those who do, a greater sense of silence and awareness is realized, and it takes one beyond the realm of asana and pranayama. This may happen for a fleeting moment, but these moments become more available the more they are reached for and intended upon. In such a moment, it becomes apparent that the world of yoga goes far beyond the physical practice, beyond the breath, beyond the heart. Meditation, asana, and pranayama have the potential to bring us further than we have the capacity to even understand. Tangible results of such realizations can manifest as feelings of joy, openness, vastness, and compassion. It is here we discover that asana is not the end, but the means. These tools are here for us as mere vehicles, designed to take us to a far greater level of awareness and consciousness.

Come to My Class!

Drop in at VIM Fitness in Central Square on Mondays and Wednesdays.
Class is 12-1 and is $15. Take a break in the sauna after class!

Looking through the eyes of a Teacher

When I realized that I wanted to teach yoga, it was partly because I needed a complete lifestyle change. I always loved the way I would feel after practicing, and I had some experience guiding friends and teens through informal yoga classes, done for fun. Yet I never felt that I could be a teacher, for I always revered the instructors of every class I took, and didn’t feel I could ever match their presence, awareness, intellect, and postural understanding. I remember sitting at my desk at the office, looking at the clock every day, hoping I could get through enough work to make time for a yoga class in the evening. More often than not, I couldn’t. I think that this is part of what propelled me to become a teacher, because I always felt myself wanting more yoga in my life.

I recall practicing asana before the training, almost religiously. I was so nervous to be around others who were going for their certification, I felt like I had to be in primo shape and be able to hold a headstand for twenty minutes. I envisioned arriving and everyone stretched out on their mats, contorting into twisted inversions and intricate arm balances. It was a great motivation, because it helped me bring my practice to a central part of my day and my life. But when I got to the training, I came across six other individuals who were at the same level as me, everyone completely free from judgment and eager to learn from one another. I still use some of the cues from the people I went through training with.

Over the course of the training, I could feel my body responding to the immense amount of asana practice we had been doing. Learning how to cue the postures helped me to more fully understand them. There were a lot of “A ha!” moments in realizing the relationship between my body and the postures. When I would go to a yoga class prior to the training, I didn’t have as much awareness of physical alignment and the flow of energy. I think part of it, too, is the first few months (or even years) that you are doing yoga, you are just trying to get your body into these positions that feel somewhat unnatural. Once your practice reaches a level where you have postural understanding, the asanas change completely. There is more opportunity to grow in asana practice by steadying the gaze, breathing deeper, and feeling the parts of your body that are getting stretched and strengthened. Small details like spreading my toes and pressing down with the lower half of my body helped me feel more grounded in my asana practice. The notion of trying to keep a sense of lifting in the upper half of my body encouraged me to bring awareness to my spine and core muscles, as well as open through my chest and shoulders. Learning about anatomy and seeing how my own body was affected by the postures, I began noticing where I would feel more open or sore after practice. I also began to understand why I didn’t like certain postures. Usually, it was because I needed to strengthen my core, admittedly. But, practice makes practice!

I started to become familiar with the balance of flexibility, strength, and patterns of holding. Something that became central to my asana practice, and eventually my teaching style, is the notion of always stretching in at least two directions. I began to understand things like oppositional force (pressing down through the base to lift up) and static contraction (holding difficult postures while focusing on breath flow). I strive to get my students to match their strength with flexibility, and vice versa. Many people can bend into a pretzel, but if they don’t have strength to back it up chance of injury, like pulling a hamstring or a ligament, is far more likely. Likewise, those people that have strength from cardio or weight training exercises require stretch and flexibility to prevent their muscles from over-contracting, and prevent their joints from becoming tight to the point of inhibition.

Once I became a certified instructor, I again felt my practice change. I had a lot more confidence in my abilities, and felt eager to take the challenges that a lot of teachers offered in the classes I would take. I also found myself being a bit more critical of instructors. This is not necessarily judgmental or unkind, just contemplative. I still peak out of the corner of my eye as they adjust students, and modify physical or breath cues that don’t feel right for my body. Sometimes I think to myself, “Shouldn’t we be inhaling here?” But these are all examples of how we can learn to let go, which is another central aim of taking a yoga class. In essence, it is important to shed all thoughts and preconceived notions, and strive to remain present no matter what the teacher is doing, the students around you are doing, or the brain inside of you is doing. It is in this state that one can not only attain more benefits from the class, but also give the self an opportunity to learn in a way that is not anticipated or expected.

I still find it difficult to get out of my ‘teacher’s mind’ while practicing asana. Sometimes I can’t help but look at other students and want to tell them to relax their neck in uttanasana (standing forward bend), or track the knee to the outer edge of the foot in virabhadrasana (warrior) poses. I am also constantly absorbing the cues of the instructor, playing with them physically, and then adapting or adding them onto my repertoire of cues that I use while teaching. I have a notebook that I keep at home, filled with sequences and cues from other teachers that I enjoyed while taking their class. I think it is imperative as an instructor to always take yoga classes with a variety of teachers, for it is an ancient practice that belongs to no one, and all we can do is learn from one another, share it, and pass it along.

As a teacher, I think it is imperative to understand your students and where they are coming from. When I first began taking yoga, I always appreciated that the instructor would ask if there were any injuries in the class. I feel that this gives the initial impression that there is no need to exacerbate your body or overwork yourself, in fact just the opposite. In yoga class, one is meant to accept his or her limitations and incorporate them into the practice, rather than try to ignore them and go beyond one’s limit. When I teach, I often like to ask the students present what they would like to work on, postural or physical, and then tailor my class to the needs of the group. This way, everyone gets a little bit of what they are looking for, as well as some aspects they may not have been expecting. While I am often looking at my students’ posture and alignment, I also try to keep an eye on their faces as well. There’s nothing more telling than a grimace in a posture to hint that one is overexerting oneself. “Slow, steady breath. Relax your shoulders. Relax your face.” I am quite sure I recite these cues in my sleep.

At the start of class I always try to take at least two deep breaths with complete focus. From there, it is funny, sometimes I don’t even know what happens. It is almost as if I am a medium for this ancient practice to come through, the words come out of my mouth without thought, the sequences pop into my brain with little effort. I know that part of this is from practice, but I also feel an innate sense of belonging as I teach, as if it was something I have always been meant to do, and may have even done before. The flow of a class, from breath work (pranayama), to warm up, to standing postures, to inversions, to cool down, to relaxation, seems to uphold itself with only a few glances on my part at the clock. At the end of class I often try to sit in meditation, or put props away quietly and mindfully, as the students let themselves relax. I guide the relaxation by encouraging the students to remain in the present moment and refrain from planning the rest of their day. Again, this is advice I have to take myself when on the mat. Just like anyone, my mind wanders to thoughts, to-do lists, and usually, the planning of meals.

Now that I have been teaching for two years, I am constantly trying to better my practice and become stronger in my physical body. But I have to remember that it is not imperative for the teacher to do any posture perfectly, but rather cue it safely and accurately. I feel a little pressure from myself to do postures beautifully and flawlessly every time. I notice that I don’t always take my own advice on the mat and try to muscle into postures, sometimes. This has led to injury of my back and my knees, and lots of frustration for myself. I have had to look critically at why I do this in spite of the fact that I know it’s not what yoga is all about. What I often think I am striving for are those “A ha!” moments in more advanced postures like titibasana (firefly) or jumping back to a chaturaga (low plank) from bakasana (crane pose). When I practice ashtanga I try not to stare at the yogis falling back from standing into chakrasana (upward facing backbend), or become impatient with myself as I struggle in kurmasana (tortoise pose) or matsyasana (fish pose). I have to constantly remind myself, as I do my students, that this is a lifelong practice. There is no goal that must be achieved today, there is only the goal of a fit body and mind over time. Sometimes I like to picture an older me, grey and wrinkled, in a beautiful arm balance I have yet to attain, like galavasana. With this image in mind, it becomes easier for me to have patience with myself today, and continue my practice with measured, relaxed, consistent effort.

The Real Meaning of Surrender

When I first started taking yoga classes I was somewhat baffled by the consistent reminder to ‘let go’ or ‘surrender’ into postures, especially in the more challenging asanas. In these moments I would find myself becoming increasingly frustrated and shaky, and often the cue to surrender brought a deeper tension in my physical being and psychic system. But later in class there would always be a pose like eka pada kapotasana (one leg pigeon pose) or jathara parivartanasana (reclined twist) where I could feel a physical release of tension, and a deep ‘letting go’ feeling would wash over me. I tried to connect this physical release with an emotional or mental release as well, sighing out the worries of my day or my checkbook, giving myself permission to have a sense of relaxation during stressful times.

My challenge was taking this feeling into the balancing or strengthening postures like garudasana (eagle) or virabhadrasana III (warrior 3). With much practice I learned that the moment focus shifts from struggle to ease of being and to the breath, it becomes more possible to maintain a feeling of lightness and balance in difficult postures. In these grueling moments, I encourage my students to fill up with air, take the eyes to one point (drishdi), and intentionally divert the attention from exertion to the rhythm of the breath. This will help the student tune in less to physical strain and more to the distribution of weight and mechanics of the posture. Here the student will become better able to connect with grace and strength within the body.

Surrendering is much more than opening up on the mat and letting go of physical tension. There are opportunities for us to surrender in each minute of the day. From moment to moment, we are constantly processing the world around us. Everywhere we look there are thousands of stimuli; situations that make us happy or sad, drama we could become wrapped up in, parts of our lives that leave us feeling stressed, overwhelmed, frustrated, or otherwise distracted. In each of these moments we have a choice to react or to surrender. Often it feels instinctual to react by making instant judgments in the mind, snapping to a conclusion that then leads to a mode of action. This is natural, and makes us feel functional and productive. But perhaps the challenge is the opposite… to open up to the obstacle rather than force a solution, suppress it, or suffer through it.

It is in this new challenge that we can start to tangibly see our own personal growth happening. The deeper connection we begin to feel in ourselves and in the world around us, the more mundane and trivial our everyday dramas begin to become. It is paramount to notice that we do not have control over most of the situations that influence our lives. This may seem like a very abstract thought, but the next time you have an opportunity to become frustrated or judgmental, see if you can take a deep breath and redistribute your energy. There are many options and visualizations you can use, such as drawing light and energy around your heart, or envisioning tension dripping down your arms like ash or dirt, dripping out your fingers. Just like in asana practice, try to divert your attention to your breath and heart center. Whatever works for you individually, see if you can come back to it whenever you start to feel a stress or tension building in your system.

This exercise turns everyday trials, like standing in line at the supermarket, or squabbling over a parking ticket, into opportunities for spiritual growth. It also has the potential to help with more intense emotional struggles like grief or depression. My teacher, Swami Shambhavananda, often says, “You are not far from the state of pure Truth, pure Consciousness, and pure Bliss that you are seeking. Even when you are in your darkest hour, it is very close to you.” This expression has helped me through much turmoil, for it reminds me that the potential for all the joy of the world is always available to everyone in it. Beyond our deepest fears, worries, struggles and strife exists something bigger than all of us. Our challenge is to work to open up to that vastness, especially when our lives seem truly grim. Once we have learned how to do this, only then can we truly experience surrender.