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
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