Unwind and Rewind: The Pop Culture of Healing

For the past few decades, yoga has been, and continues to be, an influential part of Western society. Every mainstream retailer in the United States has some source of yoga merchandise available in abundance, and speaking to capitalism, it is typically marketed to affluent women. Yoga is a sign that one is healthy, one is important, and in a way, it is seen as a status symbol signifying wealth and culture. In many ways, Westerners also view yoga as a means of spiritual guidance, a viewpoint that is arguably the result of an individualistic society that continues to grow more isolated through political and religious polarization.

 

No matter what one’s stance or beliefs in relation to yoga as a popular point of culture are, its influence and relevancy cannot be understated. Yoga is also seen as a means of releasing physical and emotional tension in areas of life we neglect, a theme that I explored in my yoga practice this week.

 

Via Gaia, I took an hour long Hatha Yoga class called “Unwind Your Hips” with instructor Ashleigh Sergeant. With an emphasis on lower power muscles and the promise of “stabilizing the sacroiliac joints” of one’s lower back, Sergeant began the practice by stating we would “unwind the body” through a “very thorough and systematic opening of these deep and large muscles around your hips, low back, and pelvis.”

 

Indeed, this focus on a gentle, slower practice aimed at healing the body oftentimes felt more like a biology lesson centered on bloodstream functionality in the legs than what one typically expects from a yoga class. Yet the approach worked, for Sergeant’s explanations gives students a reason to watch the video again, while not taking away anything from their initial experience.

 

Starting on my back, I kept my knees bent and my feet flat on my mat, my thoughts centered on the rise and fall of my chest. With my hands on my stomach, I grew attentive to the way my breath impacted my movement, even as I fought to keep still. Sergeant said that I should imagine the back of my pelvis, legs, and hips pulling close to the earth, and so I did. Deeply inhaling and exhaling, I allowed the back of my sacrum to “flatten and widen,” my hands still securely on my abdomen.

 

Sergeant, at this point, restated the importance of allowing stillness to settle in, saying that in doing so we were “letting the body’s innate ability to unwind take place.”

 

Continuing in this manner for three minutes, I then opened my arms out to the sides. Following instructions, I allowed my left knee to fall to my left side, my right leg still bent upward. I repeated this on the other side of my body, and throughout both experiences the intense stretch in my upper thighs led to a deep release of tension. My legs seized up with stress only to feel as light as a feather upon exiting the asana, the strain of the upright knee always complementing the resting flow of the lowered one.

 

Subsequently, I entered Baddha Konasana, or Bound Angle Pose. Touching the soles of my feet together with my knees bent towards their individual sides, I focused on my inner groin, knees, and seam of leg “where femoral artery and a whole bunch of nerves run through, in that inner groin, letting all that area be flooded with oxygenated blood space.” According to Sergeant, frequent sitting tightens these areas, and allowing oxygen to flow into restricted body parts allows for deep seated unwinding and relaxation to take place. Baddha Konasana always feels both uncomfortable and soothing, but hearing Sergeant’s perspective on it, I wonder if it is a better stress reliever than I have been giving it credit for.

 

Getting back to the practice, while in the aforementioned asana I took my hands and squeezed the inside of my thighs, allowing the lymph nodes to gain movement in this area. (Notably, this was an interesting part of the practice for me as I know it was much easier to do this in the privacy of my own home than it would have been in a studio).

 

From here, I went back to my initial starting position and transferred to Ardha Ananda Balasana, also known as Half Happy Baby Pose. Bringing my right knee into my chest, I lifted my arm and brought it inside of this knee. Holding the right side of my right foot, I pulled down towards my right waist and shoulder, taking careful steps to keep my breath level as I deepened my hip crease. I felt restricted, as if my right knee would fall apart if I moved my arm away; yet, Sergeant assured me this was part of the process, and encouraged me to embrace the restriction so long as it only resulted in temporary discomfort.

 

Following this, I progressed to Figure 4 Pose. Once again returning to my original starting posture, I placed my right ankle over left knee. Threading my arms around my legs, I grasped my left knee and pushed my right one away from my shoulder, allowing this action to guide my left knee towards my chest as I flexed my feet. Then, pushing my right knee and hip away from my shoulders and lower belly, I allowed the stretch of my upper thighs to reach my lower back, the release of muscle tension allowing my pranayama to slow and relax. Unwinding and unfolding, I released my left leg and held my right foot with both of my hands, grasping it firmly before sliding it over my shin to my right side. This process was slow and uncomfortable, a gradual journey that tested my patience and flexibility. Tilting to my left side, I felt the powerful stretch in my pelvic region and then moved into Ardha Ananda Balasana once more.

 

Here, I pulled my right knee towards the earth again, but this time resisted by pushing my knee up to the point that I straightened my leg fully. Then, I pushed my right hip away from me and pulled my right leg back down, pumping it in this motion for a few seconds before straightening it, and then bending towards my right side. Simultaneously, I lifted my left leg six inches off the ground and, with my left leg extended out in front of me, straightened my right leg and grasped my right foot with both hands. Lifting my upper chest, I brought my head towards my right knee and took a few deep breaths, blocking out noise and focusing fully on my pranayama. Slowly, I came back down, bending my right leg once more towards my right side as I lowered my left leg down at the same time. Once I was back in my original position, I repeated the asana on my left side.

 

Shortly after this asana, Sergeant transferred to standing asanas and powerful openers as opposed to sitting asanas exclusively. Here, I will focus on three that were new or particularly impactful, starting with a classic: Standing Forward Bend, or Uttanasana.

 

Keeping my legs straight as I bent forward, my head touching my knees as I placed my hands on either side of my feet, I exhaled, keeping my legs strong. From here, I brought my hands to my hips on an inhale, and then rose to a full stand. Exhaling, I rested my hands at my sides and moved into a thigh stretch, my hands going back to my hips and my chest lifted towards the sky as I inhaled, exhaling as I entered into a forward bow over my legs and then inhaling as I lifted my spine. Looking forward, I exhaled and stretched my right leg back, my right knee touching the ground as my corresponding foot stood on the tips of my toes. With my left leg bent at the knee, I rested my hands on it and bent my right foot upwards, reaching back and grasping it with my right hand. Swinging my elbow back and over to the right, I spun my hand and clasped my thumb and first finger below my toes, my chest still lifted towards the sky. My left hand went back to clasp my foot as well, and I held this asana for a moment, once again focusing almost exclusively on my pranayama. After a minute, I lifted my right knee off the floor, and entered back into Uttanasana.

 

Finally, Malasana, or Garland/Squat Pose, truly tested my feet and their ability to keep me grounded as my lower body tensed and relaxed over and over again. Using a blanket as a bolster for my heels, I took my knees and stretched them wide, my torso falling between them as I stretched forward, dropping my head down. My whole body widened and opened as I pressed through my feet, feeling the lift in my inner thighs reacting to the pressure of my soles against the ground. Reaching back, I held my heels and squeezed them, pulling my spine forward away from my pelvis before rounding back in.

 

Surrendering to the earth, powerful muscles finding peace in stillness, and gravity being tested were all key concepts that were essential to this practice. In many ways, it felt like my upper body disappeared; I knew it was there, but other than my breath, which was ever present, my focus was on my lower half, and the muscles I too often neglect. Stillness and the idea of surrender are powerful concepts that, in today’s fast paced, isolated world — a feeling especially present in the West — can be quite enticing. Whether it is effective or not is up to the individual, but it is interesting to consider at the very least.

 

This practice was a nice change of pace, and while this particular practice was a bit slow for my taste, I enjoyed it nonetheless.

 

Until the Next Reflection,

Moujnir

Embrace Yourself, Frogs and All

Subsequent to the challenges of last weeks in-class yoga sessions, I was at a bit of a loss on which branch of yoga to practice this week. Part of me missed the atmosphere of my online class, but the other part was excited to see what Gaia had in store for me this time. Luckily, the platform did not disappoint. A plethora of new videos have been posted in the past week, and the practice that caught my eye was a Fusion of Vinyasa and Kundalini entitled “The Attitude Makeover.” The instructor, Zain Saraswati Jamal, promised that the following 56 minutes of my time would be invested in getting me to let go of my worries, embrace self-love, and chant my way to inner harmony. Though it did not solve the lifelong journey of self-acceptance and human uncertainty that we all experience during our time on Earth, this practice did teach me new asanas and allowed me to utilize my block prop in ways I hadn’t before, something I genuinely enjoyed.

 

From the start, Jamal states that “We all go through challenging moments in our lives, where we feel down in the dumps, depressed —and more than likely we don’t want to take care of ourselves during those moments. But I invite you to join me for this attitude makeover session.  This yoga kriya, combined with asana, will help to shift your vibrations into the upper chakra so that you can operate from a place of love and intuition as opposed to a place of fear and insecurity.”

 

In order to accomplish this, I started out in a seated position, my buttocks propped up on my foam block, legs crossed. Initially, I had to bring my hands to my heart in prayer, move the stance up to my forehead to acknowledge my third eye, and then bring my hands up to the sky before separating and sweeping down, touching the earth, and then repeating the process several times. Following this, I crossed my arms at 90 degrees, my fingertips touching my shoulder as I inhaled, opening my arms upwards as my upper body, including my gaze, fixated on the sky. I then exhaled, closing my arms and elbows inward towards the middle of my chest in an effort to release tension and open up through my heart. While doing this, Jamal introduced the mantra that would dominate our entire practice “Har Hari”, a mantra that Jamal says has a detoxifying core. Though instructed to repeat the mantra, after the first three times I was feeling rather idiotic, and ultimately chose to instead listen to her voice and do my best to complete the asanas at the same pace she was completing them.

 

This practice also featured a lot of familiar asanas — Downward Facing Dog, Warrior II, Cobra — so I will be skipping over most of them, only referencing one of these asanas in passing or in reference to a comment during a transition.

 

To feel a “vibration of strength and power,” I moved from Downward Facing Dog into plank and Low Frog Kriya, where I bounced between the two multiple times. Low frog is when your knees come out wide, your body shifting into an almost crouch before propelling forward into a plank; inhaling when coming out, exhaling when coming in. The impact of the vinyasa on my knees and legs was incredible; I felt the tension of my muscles pushing and stretching, yet my breath remained even, the combination of movement and pranayama serving as my motivation to keep going.

 

Several asanas later, in Warrior II while transitioning into Standing Frog Kriya, Jamal asked “what are you a warrior for in your life?” While the commentary was intriguing, it threw me out of the zone. Thinking about what I fight for every day was the last thing I wanted on my mind while practicing. Yoga, for me, is a time where I focus on my physical presence and try to stay grounded. That comment made me home in on the more stressful factors of my life, and even though that was not what was intended, all the tension that had been released thus far immediately came back to me. Turning back to the asana, my heel toe turned as I brought my feet inwards, my fingertips landed on the earth and I exhaled as I straightened my legs, focusing on my feet, then inhaled as I slid into a crouched position, my knees wide and face lifted up towards the sky. This is Standing Frog Kriya, which according to Jamal is also known as the “Ego Eradicator.” Focusing on the fluid movement of my body as it shifted up and down, my gaze moved and with it, so did my main line of sight, the shifting energy of my body acting as the conduit for the “lower chakras moving into the upper chakras.”

 

Immediately after, on the last inhale, I settled further into my seated asana, sinking my pelvis into the ground with my hands in prayer. Here, I engaged in Breath of Fire — and just like the last time I practiced Kundalini, it was immensely difficult to keep going due to the quickness of breath and the crunch of abdominal muscles working overtime to keep up. However, in contrast to last time, I felt much more at peace during the asana itself, and I did not notice how long we took because instead of wondering if I’d be able to hold on long enough to complete the asana, I knew I could hold on long enough.

 

The final two asanas that I will highlight are the Supported Bridge Pose variation and the initial pose, but with a hug and a chant. For Supported Bridge Pose, I was laying down with my knees up, my lower back resting on my block as my shoulders and head kissed the earth, my arms straight out on either side. This variation allowed me to fully relax and stretch my lower back and upper thighs, resting in an almost meditative state. It was a beautiful moment, a nice contrast to some of the quicker asanas that were prevalent earlier in the practice. After Savasana, which is usually the final asana in a practice, I went back to the initial asana, and gave myself a big hug. This time, I was instructed to close my eyes, feel the energy grounding into the earth, and then to speak the mantra of new beginnings in a mere whisper: “sa ta na ma.” I did this, and for some reason, the mantra worked for me this time. My voice became hoarse by the end, but with this asana, it felt right.

 

It may be a bit naïve of me to say that yoga is indeed a healing practice, as I am still very much a beginner. Yet, I do feel amazing after doing yoga. Not always while I am doing it, but the feeling of accomplishment, peace, and overall use of both body and mind post-practice always leaves me feeling refreshed and calm. In a world where everything is fast paced and made to be consumed in the quickest manner possible, having to dedicate time to the practice and truly reflect on what I did and how it made me feel has been beneficial to my overall mental and physical health. It has helped heal the parts of me that never stopped to smell the roses, and made me aware of my own limitations, both the ones I cannot exceed and the ones I push past. I hope it continues to do so, and I plan on continuing both this blog and my practice long after this class ends.

 

Until the Next Reflection,

Moujnir

Test Your Might: Ashtanga Style

Ashtanga Yoga is easily the most challenging yoga practice I have partaken in thus far. On October 15th, Dr. Greene brought in husband and wife duo Andrew and Mila Eppler to show us the ropes, with Andrew teaching and Mila demonstrating each step of the First Primary Series. Before beginning, Andrew showcased a video featuring Dr. TRS Sharma, who was in fact the boy the legendary Krishnamacharya was standing on in the famous Mysore demonstration photo. In the video, Sharma notes that he felt like he was going to collapse under the pressure, yet nothing happened; and ultimately, he felt good subsequent to Krishnamacharya’s act, which is as much of a relief as it is a surprise. The picture itself looks painful, but the traditions stemming from Mysore, India, and the father of modern yoga’s disciples are rich in pain as a means of perseverance (or in other words, mastery of physical practice as a gateway to internal enlightenment).

 

Ashtanga Yoga is arguably a prime example of this, as the primary series which progresses from one through six is challenging from the get-go, even though it does not appear that difficult on paper. It was originally only four parts, I believe, but almost no one could make it to the final one when it was in this format, and I shall later explain my thoughts on why.

 

Ashtanga Yoga, credited in the modern world and refined by the late K. Pattabhi Jois, features mantras at the beginning and end of practice, Sun Salutations, Fundamental Positions, Finishing Sequences, and in the middle of that, the Primary Series — whichever one you are on. Typically, as evidenced by the documentary Ashtanga, NY, you don’t move on from one asana to another until the instructor directs you to, as is the case with any Mysore based class. For the purpose of our class, however, we went at our own pace and decided for ourselves what asanas we could attempt and which ones we should stop and observe.

 

The Sun Salutations (Surya Namaskara), sets A and B, are not difficult by themselves; but the rhythm of them is. To do them properly, the timing must be perfect. Beginning in Tadasana, I lifted my arms straight up, then walked forward and bent over, touching my heels. Subsequently, I jumped into a low push up, lowering into Upward Facing Dog, then down into Downward Facing Dog, before coming back to my original stance. This is Sun Salutation Set A. Set B is similar, except it throws in Warrior I Pose after Downward Facing Dog. Again, though these asanas separately are relatively easy, thrown together in a timed rhythm they become much more difficult, as a simple misstep will throw off the entire vinyasa.

 

In-between each of the postures, the vinyasa setup of Set A is present and serves as the transition from asana to asana. For the purpose of this blog, I am going to focus on six asanas — 2 standing, 2 seated, and 2 from the finishing sequence — and the reasons that they stood out to me over the course of this intense physical and mental practice. First, I must speak to the mantra that we opened with as Andrew, in a voice that was clear and powerful, chanted “Om, vande gurūṇāṁ caraṇāravinde sandarśita svātma sukhāva bodhe, niḥ-śreyase jaṅgali-kāyamāne saṁsāra hālāhala moha-śāntyai, ābāhu puruṣākāraṁ śankha - cakr - āsi dhāriṇam, sahasra śirasaṁ śvetaṁ praṇamāmi patañjalim.”

 

This began our practice, and we knew to focus as we moved on into Surya Namaskara, before jumping into the First Primary Series. The first asana that struck me in its ability to both induce and relieve tension was Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana. Standing in Tadasana, I put my left arm on my left hip and lifted my right leg straight up, grasping my right big toe with my right hand as I extended the attached arm. I then moved my right leg and arm to my right side instead of in front of me, and here I lost balance and had to restart. Upon re-entering the second step of the asana, I moved back to my original position and placed both hands on my hips, extending only my right leg out. This asana stretched both my inner and outer thigh muscles, creating a deep tension in both standing and lifted legs as I struggled to maintain balance. This struggle informed my breath, as it was difficult to keep my pranayama even when I felt as if the strain of the asana was going to cause me to run out of it.

Immediately after, I entered Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana. In this asana, I started out in Vrikshasana, my right foot inside my inner left thigh. Then, I placed my right hand behind my back and bent over, my left hand touching the floor and left leg rooted firmly in the ground, the four-corner teaching from our Iyengar practice serving me well in this balancing act. The stretch that occurred in my lower back was unbelievable; I have a lot of tension in my back from day to day activities, and asanas that engage both my back and upper legs tend to create immense relief for me. Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana accomplishes this quickly and effectively, earning the title of my favorite standing asana.

 

Moving on to the seated postures, Navasana was also one of the simplest yet effective asanas. Lifting both legs up in a V shape and as I extended my arms straight out in front so that they met on either side of my knees, the muscles in my thighs and arms strained to keep still, causing my body to shake as I waited for relief. We repeated this asana a couple of times, the movement causing relaxation and strain as we recovered our breath and then held the position again. This effectiveness carried into many of the other asanas that involved bending at an angle and then twisting our arms in a way that was almost pretzel like, but no other asana was as effective in capturing the brilliance of Navasana as Supta Konasa. In Supta Konasa, we spread our legs wide and gripped our toes before rolling back onto the floor, still holding the position and keeping our buttocks in line with our lower back, while maintaining a careful hold of our heads. Then, we rolled forward, stretching our backs over our legs and lowering it into the ground, all while maintaining that same hold on our toes, arms aligned across either leg. Extraordinarily powerful, Supta Konasa left no room for overthinking, as the rolling motion must be done swiftly in time with your breath. This asana was the one that cemented the pranayama asana relationship for me in terms of Ashtanga Yoga, and for that reason it is the one I credit with teaching me the most.

 

For the Finishing Sequence, Sarvangasana and Uttana Padasana left lasting impressions. Uttana Padasana is similar to Navasana, but instead of sitting up, my head was tilted back on the floor in line with my buttocks as my legs and arms extended into the air in parallel lines. Once again, the power of this asana is immense, and it left me feeling energized and elated. Sarvangasana, on the other hand, is an asana that could be seen as a lead in for Sirsasana, which is when you literally do a headstand. I was uncomfortable attempting the latter without an instructor in my physical presence, but I was able to do Sarvangasana without too much of a problem. My head was flush against the floor, the rest of my body lifted up and supported by my hands, my elbows resting on the floor allowing for support of my head and shoulders as well. Challenging though it was, I was proud of my efforts and felt great subsequent to holding the asana for as long as Mila did.

 

To end the sequence, while in Savasana Andrew chanted the closing mantra: “Om, svasti-prajābhyaḥ paripālayantāṁ nyāyena mārgeṇa mahīṁ mahīśāḥ,  go-brāhmaṇebhyaḥ śubham-astu nityaṁ lokā-samastā sukhino-bhavaṁtu.”

 

Going back to my initial comment on difficulty, I will say Ashtanga Yoga is a difficult and demanding practice. This was only Series 1, and I was sweating like I had not worked out in years, my blood boiling and my thoughts racing as I struggled to keep up. One of the finishing sequences is a headstand, something most beginners probably can’t begin to imagine completing. Thinking of how challenging the sequences that build upon this one are, one can clearly recognize why they were separated into more categories in the first place – for how is one to progress if their goal is utterly unattainable?

 

That said, I would love to be able to one day commit myself to learning and mastering the First Primary Series. Andrew is very passionate about the subject, and Mila was graceful and focused in her execution of it. To be able to do this practice so seamlessly would be a phenomenal feat. Additionally, being able to ask Andrew questions at the end of the practice was an immense honor, as this is a man who has over three decades of experience in teaching and practicing Ashtanga Yoga.

 

Speaking of which, we learned that Andrew has been practicing since he was 14 years old, with his father. He credits his dad for teaching him how to be disciplined and dedicated, noting that he was never forced into doing yoga, but rather that it was a way for him to spend time with his dad and build upon their relationship, resulting in a positive learning environment. In terms of teaching, Andrew says that the most important part of it is “keeping it up yourself.” It takes decades to develop an approach, and ultimately students end up being the greatest teachers, because they help their teachers evolve and grow. If they become stagnant in their learning, their teaching methods will grow stale and weak, becoming “crap” instead of being “authentic and sincere.” The greatest benefit of teaching, ultimately, is as Andrew puts it “see[ing] the benefits of yoga in our students.” Watching the impact yoga has on their lives makes those decades of commitment worth it, and it is truly amazing to have had the chance to learn from someone who, like Dr. Greene, absolutely loves yoga.

 

Having experienced this in a virtual setting, I at first felt like I was missing that pivotal sense of community that is often talked about when people speak of Ashtanga Yoga. However, upon seeing Dr. Greene and my classmates doing the asanas – one of my classmates nailing every single pose, another tripping and then getting back up – and then myself, reflected in my own tiny square, I knew I was not alone in my practice space. We were all doing this at the same time, exploring a completely different side of our physical capabilities amongst a distinguished, highly respected instructor that we never would have learned from if this class was not virtual. From that moment on, I knew I was not by myself; and though nervous about looking like an idiot, I was doing my best, as was the rest of my community. It was the first time I felt that way about my practices, and I hope it won’t be the last.

 

Until the Next Reflection,

Moujnir

Iyengar: The Impact of History and its Power on Healing

On October 13th, Dr. Greene brought in another guest teacher, this time for Iyengar Yoga. Our instructor, Amita Bhagat, informed the class not only about herself, but about B.K.S. Iyengar and the contributions he made to yoga that helped define it as the practice we know today. In this blog, I am going to discuss both Bhagat’s comments on this matter and the practice we engaged in during class, with particular emphasis on the seated asanas and their impact on my physical and mental experience of yoga. Additionally, the idea of community as it relates to these group practices will be discussed and elaborated upon (and this theme will also be present in my experience with the in-class Ashtanga yoga session that I did this week, which will be up on the blog this Sunday!)

 

Bhagat made a point right at the beginning to talk about the difference in one's alignment and how it evolves as one progresses through Iyengar yoga. In the beginning, one’s alignment is external; the asanas are at the forefront of thought and maintaining them is all one thinks about. However, as one progresses, the alignment becomes internal as thoughtfulness of moment begins to take precedence over physical awareness. Bhagat, who taught in her own New York studio for five and a half years before leaving to train more in India, is knowledgeable and passionate about the subject, and her patience with all of us in the class put me at ease. Firm but kind, Bhagat gave us a bit of history on B.K.S. Iyengar, explaining that he “spent 80 years of his life using his body as a laboratory for his [yoga] practice,” and “spent 10 hours every day doing yoga in addition to teaching.” That kind of dedication to a craft is both admirable and frightening, and during the practice I kept considering the years of dedication Iyengar gave to his craft, and how much he endured just to share it with the world.

 

This thought process amplified when, at the end of the practice, Bhagat explained that when Iyengar started, he couldn’t even afford “a cup of chai,” and that it was his will and determination to help both himself and others that pushed him forward. Another thing that we had learned in class but Bhagat reinforced was that Iyengar was the one who invented the props that are found in many yoga studios today. In fact, the reason for the props was originally to help those with injury or disability be able to experience the healing benefits of yoga (for the circulatory, respiratory, and nervous systems, as well as the muscles, mind, and so on). Though he was initially criticized for his introduction of props, even becoming known for a time as the “furniture yogi,” Iyengar never lost sight of his goals to make yoga accessible to all, and eventually he was hailed as one of the greatest instructors of all time.

 

Geeta Iyengar, B.K.S. Iyengar’s daughter, was also a leading yoga instructor who specialized in asanas designed to relieve issues particular to those assigned female at birth, such as menstruation, pregnancy, and postpartum depression. Iyengar, and his kin, helped many through their practices, and continue to do so to this day. Instructors like Bhagat carry on his teachings and his history, both of which are important to the student and how they begin to perceive the asanas. Bhagat also encourages her students not to give up, even if some of the asanas seem impossible later down the line — her two biggest pieces of advice were to keep pushing through and to “reflect on how you feel now versus how you felt at the beginning of practice.”

 

Extremely informative and powerful as the history and Bhagat's wisdom are, I will now move on to highlight four of the asanas that we did during this practice. Each pose was powerful and impactful in its own way, and while we started off in the introductory series, a lot of the asanas were further modified so that one could do them with or without props due to the unique learning situation we are in. I personally used a foam block, which I will describe when relevant, and all of us used a wall when instructed to.

 

Quick note: I want to say that Bhagat was amazing with announcing every single asana’s name prior to and upon completion, yet as I was doing the practice I did not recall how to write each of their names, so any asana that is unnamed here is by no fault other than my own. Now, the first asana I want to focus on is one where we jumped into a spread-out position, almost as if going into Warrior II. Subsequently, we were instructed to bend over and place our hands on the foam block, if we had it, and then move over to the right, slightly, head straight ahead. Following our group instructions, I moved to the right again except this time, with my right hand still flat on the block, I lifted my left leg straight out and tilted my torso towards the sky, my head turned toward the earth as I fought for balance. At the beginning of our practice, Bhagat had said that the four corners of the feet are key to balancing in all of the asanas; the big toe mound, little toe mound, outer heel, and inner heel. The same was true for this asana, as without all four corners digging into the earth, my balance was lost. If I relied too much on my outer heel instead of my inner, I found myself falling forward in the direction of my chest. The first two attempts, on my right side and left, I lost balance. When we did it again, subsequent to Bhagat’s reminder about the four corners, I found balance much easier. I do not know if it was her words or my actions that made the difference, but I do know that visualizing my feet as pillars which were built on those four components helped me successfully complete the asana.

 

The second asana that I want to highlight is Downward Facing Dog, but against the wall. I had not used a wall for any asana up until that point, but when I used it as the base to lift my heels off of, I did feel a difference. Unlike when I do Downward Facing Dog in the middle of my practice space, I did not feel tension in keeping my foot flat because it was pressed into a physical object, one that was propelling me forward and allowing me to immerse myself entirely in my thoughts. The use of the wall as a prop was brilliant and allowed a new experience of a common asana to become transformative in the best way possible.

 

Thirdly, the seated asana Paschim Namaskarasana, or Reverse Prayer Pose (my favorite one, actually!) left a profound impact on me. Starting with the simple motion of moving my arms behind my back, I clasped my hands to form an upside-down prayer form. Then, hooking my thumbs together, I tried to turn them up simultaneously to form a proper prayer behind my back. However, it took a few demonstrations from Bhagat before I did it in any semblance of a fluid motion; yet when it finally clicked, I felt a rush of adrenaline spike, even though it was a rather easy motion and certainly an easy asana. The fluidity of it struck me as beautiful, and throughout the day, following the practice, I would relax my shoulders back and try the asana again, just to relieve tension. The higher up you can stretch your arms and shoulders, the more relief you feel post completion. Bringing my elbows together and closing any gaps, I allowed my shoulders to roll back and then reach up as my elbows pushed down, my chest raised upwards and my hands still pressed against one another tightly. Upon release, I felt energetic yet calm, and the tension in my shoulders eased immensely despite the fact that the hold had initially been painful.

 

Finally, the fourth asana that stood out to me was Gomukhasana Arms (full). Seated with my buttocks resting on my feet, I reached my right arm behind my back, elbow at level with my head and arm stretching as far as it could reach. My left arm and hand bent below to reach up and meet my right hand, the fingers clasping in a joyous reunion, tightening together. The stretch in my left arm was incredible, and though it was tough at first to get my fingers to interlock fully, with some deep breaths and release of tension, it became feasible. Then, rolling my left shoulder back causing it to lift up in front, I allowed my left shoulder blade to touch my back ribs, and felt the impact of the motion take over my body. Repeating on the other side, I found it much more difficult to reach my right hand with my left arm, as if that side were more restricted for some reason. It was interesting, and the challenge of pushing myself in a seemingly simple asana proved to be very rewarding.

 

Iyengar Yoga was a slow and steady experience, with a lot of particular motions and a great deal of fluid, yet powerful movements that built on one another, ranging from simplistic to complex. Nonetheless, Bhagat’s words, specifically in building on the history of Iyengar and the purpose of sharing a community and creating a space for those who may not have one, made me feel as if I, too, were part of that community. During the practice, looking at a plethora of screens, some with names and some with people, while the instructor is pinned to the main one does not always create the greatest sense of camaraderie. Yet, when we sat to speak or Bhagat took a moment to really explain how an asana is done properly, I felt like everyone was together, in that moment, taking in her words and soaking up her knowledge. And, in that one singular point in time, we were all part of the same community, striving to learn and be better alongside one another. My main takeaways? The power of actions coupled with words is the power of community, and the promise of a practice that allows all to thrive is what makes Iyengar Yoga so unique.

 

Until the Next Reflection,

Moujnir

 

Stretching Pain vs Strong Pain: The Art of Endurance

On October 1st, my yoga class had our first in-class practice experience. Dr. Greene, our professor, had Dianne Polli come in to teach Bikram Yoga. This particular branch of yoga is very formulaic; there are 26 poses, done in order and to be completed in 90 minutes. Each pose is held for roughly 2 minutes, and then released and held again for 1 minute. Since this class is virtual but also live, I knew it would be a different experience compared to the online classes I have been taking so far. Prior to our practice, I did some of my own research on Bikram Yoga and found that it is typically done in a 105-degree room! So, I drank a bottle of water before practice to hydrate, and then kept my practice space at 95 degrees (no a/c or fans, as the physical space where I practice tends to be naturally hot without them) to be as close to the authentic experience as possible.

 

The Bikram website itself was down so I did not have a chance to look over each individual posture as much as I wanted to, but Greene did an excellent job of demonstrating each movement Polli directed. Polli herself did not practice as the instructor is not meant to in Bikram; they call out the instructions, and you follow them.

 

My first impression was that Bikram is fast. It is strange because, when looking at it from a purely analytical standpoint, holding a pose for minutes is the opposite of fast. It’s a slow physical burn (I’m talking about you, Yin) rather than a fast one. Yet, to me it was fast because I was so unfamiliar with the asanas—listening, viewing, and doing the practice simultaneously, particularly on the balance heavy postures, made me feel as if I was always behind, even in the moments when I was executing the asanas just fine. Mentally, I was playing catch up 95% of the time, so the practice seemed swift, which if anything proves that mentality goes a long way in one’s experience of yoga, just like everything else in life.

 

That said, the practice was great — it flowed nicely, was challenging yet simple, and overall left a powerful impression on me. Some asanas were more difficult for me than others, and those are the ones that taught me the most. For that reason, I will be focusing on the three asanas that gave me the most trouble, and explaining why, by the end of each, I thought they were the best.

 

Utkatasana, or Awkward Pose, focuses on balance and proper alignment of all parts involved. Starting by standing upright, head straight ahead, I moved my foot to the side and allowed for a small gap to come between my knees, before extending my arms in front of me, careful to keep my elbows straight. I slowly lowered down until my thighs ran parallel to the earth and held it for as long as Polli instructed. Then, rising back up, I kept the position but stood on my toes, all of my weight shifting and becoming dependent on my quads and legs muscles, my back and stomach tightening as I lowered down and repeated the same steps as the first part of the asana. Then, I moved into the final stage of Awkward Pose; instead of pushing myself onto my toes, I shifted my weight onto my heels, lifting them off the ground just slightly. Lowering back down, I kept going until my rear practically touched my heels. My back and stomach felt the strain of the movement as I held it there, and I struggled to keep my breathing at a normal rate. When we finally released, I felt calm yet disappointed, as despite the struggle, this asana relieved a lot of tension in my lower back that I did not realize was present.

 

Only one asana after, I found my next challenge: Dandayamana Janushirasana, or Standing Knee to Head Pose. This asana required me to stand with my feet close together, fingers interlocked. Shifting the weight of my body to my right leg, I raised my left leg up through the bend of my knees and lifted my right leg so that my foot was resting on my interlocked fingers. Keeping the grip on the base of my right foot, my right leg still bent and my torso following suit, I straightened both of my legs so that the right one was parallel to the floor, my hands a vice keeping everything in place. Then, bending my arms and lowering my elbows towards my calf, I attempted to touch my head to my knee, and succeeded for about five seconds before losing my balance and almost falling to the floor. I ended up having to repeat the process on the same side, and this time, I didn’t force my head to my knee, and instead hovered about half an inch away, the closest I could get without falling. I then repeated the steps on the other side. Each hold seemed like forever; the stretch in my lower back spread into my upper thighs, the pull of my fingers against my outstretched leg prominent as sweat dripped down from my head on to my knee, keeping me grounded in the moment.

 

Nonetheless, it was over, and it was not until Padangusthasana, or Toe Stand Pose, that I lost balance again. Standing on my right leg, I inhaled as I brought the top of my left foot towards my right hip. Then I bent my right knee, exhaled, and anchored my left foot on my right thigh. I do not remember my breathing pattern in this particular asana beyond these initial moments, but I do recall that I struggled to get the timing right with each movement. When I reached the instructed squatting position, I lifted my right heel so that I was on the ball of my foot, centering it under my body and bringing my hands to prayer at heart. While on the tips of my toes, I fell not once, but three times, landing square on my buttocks and feeling increasingly frustrated with each failure. Finally, after maintaining the asana for 10 seconds, I stood up and switched sides. This time, I was able to successfully complete the asana, even though I was a bit wobbly. Balancing with one leg up, only being able to rely on one foot’s set of toes, was significantly more difficult than it seemed; and for that reason, when done successfully, it made me feel extremely accomplished.

 

Polli used several phrases regularly throughout the practice, including:

 

“Stretching pain vs strong pain,” which explained how we should define our physical limitations

 

“Natural human traction,” which was the motion that carried us through many of the asanas

 

“Move slowly,” the phrase uttered most fervently so that we could experience the full scope of Bikram, and finally

 

“Breathe.”

 

Polli was insistent on steady breathing and acceptance of limitations, and even gave a feel-good mantra at the end as we were resting in Savasana, which Dr. Greene later informed us is unique to Polli’s teaching style and is not traditionally included in Bikram Yoga. Polli’s main Bikram advice at the end was to “listen to the instructor” and “nail the initial part of the pose” because, as she explained, mastery of the initial steps will lead to mastery of the entire asana.

 

Overall, Bikram Yoga was an interesting, one-of-a-kind experience, especially in this format — and I can’t wait to see what challenges this week’s classes bring.

 

Until the Next Reflection,

Moujnir

 

Yin and Yang: The Duality of Merging Into One

Following an in-class Bikram practice led by Dianne Polli (blog on this experience coming this Sunday!) I was intrigued by Polli’s mention of Yin Yoga, and the feelings my fellow classmates had on the slow-moving nature of this practice. Though not an ideal class length, I decided to try Yin Yoga for myself with instructor Melina Meza on Gaia, in a 43-minute class called “Yin and 8 Limbs.”

True to its word, “Yin and 8 limbs” explores Ashtanga Yoga- specifically the 3rd, 4th, 6th, 7th, and 8th limbs that Ashtanga refers to – and its relationship with Yin. Meza states at the beginning of the practice that “The poses themselves are not necessarily yin, it is more of your attitude and approach to them that makes them more yin.” While Meza’s instructions were clear, helpful, and forthright, her commentary during the 3-5-minute-long asanas grated on me, and eventually I was listening only for instructions on when to switch postures as I began to sink into my own thoughts and calming words.

 

To start off, I laid down on my back with a pillow acting as my bolster, stretching my legs all the way in front, my arms extended to my sides as I worked to keep my head level with my heart. From my head to my feet, I took a deep breath to let my muscle tension go, tightness disappearing from my body as I closed my eyes, focusing on nothing but the rise and fall of my chest. Wiggling to make sure the pose made sense for me, as Meza recommended for all asanas, I again focused on the quickening of my breath and slowed it, stretching the time in-between each inhale and exhale as the 4th limb of pranayama made its presence known within my body.

 

Given a three-breath warning, on the last exhale of the third breath I rolled over to my right side, removing my pillow from behind me before returning to the floor. With my legs bent, my right knee pulled inwards towards my chest and my left leg straight out, I brought my right knee over to the left side of my body. Draping it over my left leg while resting my right foot on the ground, I tilted my head to the left and brought my right arm up, as close to my right ear as possible.

Here is where I paid most attention to Meza’s commentary, as she explained that the eight limbs are a “system of tools that leads us progressively into deeper levels of awareness.” Going further, while still holding the position described in the previous paragraph, Meza stated that this particular practice is about “not taking what doesn’t belong to you, maintaining boundaries to cultivate energy that will lead you to your truth, to your Dharma, and that we only take what we need in life to fulfill our purpose, our truth, our Dharma. That when we’re living with these social restraints, the yamas, it’s easier to experience those subtle states further along the path.”

 

While I did not feel like I was fulfilling a greater purpose or truth per se, I did feel a comfort in the stretch of my spine and the release of tension that was being held within. Meza’s words had a calming effect, even though I was skeptical of them; I felt at ease and more in tune with myself, even if not particularly enlightened. The long holds allowed for a deeper, more meditative state to occur, and I found that time was going much quicker compared to other practices I’ve engaged in so far.

 

Continuing on, I slid my right arm down to my side and rolled back, bringing my right heel to rest outside of my bent left leg, pulling my left leg inwards towards my chest. Then, I threaded my arms through to rest my hands over my left knee, “threading the needle,” and once again focused on my pranayama. Additionally, Meza mentioned that this pose also served as the 3rd limb asana, a “stable seat” for one to settle into and become aware of.

 

The previous two asanas were then repeated on the opposite sides, much to the same effect, each one for roughly 4 minutes. Subsequent to completion, I moved my knees out to the side of my mat, in Wild Knee Child’s Pose. This variation of the asana allowed for my arms to be stretched forward as far as I could allow them. My stomach settled between my legs and my chest came down to the floor as I controlled my pranayama, letting my intention guide me into the 6th limb of concentration: dharana.

 

Being mindful of the four stages of my breath – inhaling, the subtle pause at the end of the inhale, exhaling, the minute pause at the end of the exhale – I concentrated on that repeated pranayama, not willing meditation to happen but simply allowing it to come to me.

 

Following this was Pigeon Pose, and as I brought my left leg forward and bent it beneath my stomach, right leg straight back and elbows out to the sides, my outer left hip felt the brunt of physical strain. I thought that this asana was going to be difficult mentally, as I was very focused on the stretch of my muscles in my thigh and lower back. To my surprise, this was in fact the asana that brought me to my most mentally focused state. I felt in tune with my own thoughts, accepting them as they came before allowing them to slip away, my head resting on my hands as my mind became calm, allowing for three minutes of the present moment, one second slipping into the other until they all seemed like one infinite time capsule.

 

Moving out of this, with my left leg still bent, I pulled my chest up and my right leg over with the right knee stretching skyward. My hands pulled both of my feet into the ground, and I shifted to gain a bit of height underneath my pelvis. Allowing my spine to ease forward, I moved as far I could without risk of injury. Meza says at this point we have momentarily reached the 8th limb, samadhi, “a moment of merging completely with your object of intention, no longer a sense of duality or separation.” By this definition, I believe Pigeon Pose would have been my closest experience to samadhi in this practice, as this one made me more aware of my physical surroundings alone rather than a combination of both my inner and worldly environment.

 

That was the ritual – asana, steadiness, pranayama, extending the breath, dharana, observing senses moving inward rather than outward, and finally, samadhi: the duality merging into one.

 

After repeating Pigeon Pose and its subsequent asana on the opposite side, I entered the final asana. Sitting crossed legged, I sat up straight and slid my hip bones downward to allow my knees to slide closer to the earth. Feeling stable and at ease, we entered the 7th limb: dhyana. Bringing hands to heart and bowing head to hands, with a “Namaste,” the practice was over.

 

In “Empowerment and Using the Body in Modern Postural Yoga,” by Klas Nevrin, several topics were addressed in accordance with ritual practices and their impact on modern postural yoga. In this particular yin practice, I felt that the spiritual and more particularly, the moral atmosphere that Meza created gave way to a sense of meditation that did influence me to think about the concept of virtues and individuality as a means of unity.  As Nevrin states about asanas as they relate to atmosphere, “these uses of the body, too, will create certain reactions, both physiological and emotional, which are then contextualized by being related to pre- and post-session contexts, to previous experience, and to any acquired knowledge about yoga.”

 

Indeed, from the Wild Knee Child’s Pose being a setup for pranayama to the second asana being a tool for teaching one about the importance of Dharma, Meza’s practice insisted on relevance in day-to-day morality and human nature. If we were practicing together in a studio class, I have no doubt that I would’ve struck up a conversation with a classmate on this very theme. As Nervin states, ritual space and the way it is presented has a great deal of impact on how the practice itself is perceived and received, and that is something I will take with me as I continue to practice yoga in its multitude of forms.

 

Until the Next Reflection,

Moujnir