Friday, October 30, 2020

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

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