Carl Jung

Yoga can either improve your mood, or “let loose a flood of sufferings of which no sane person ever dreamed.”

This, according to The Washington Post, is what psychiatrist Carl Jung thought about yoga.

I look at my yoga as a workout. It keeps me in shape.

In fact, I only started yoga because a studio opened nearby, and I lost my last excuse to not work out.

Yoga worked fast on my body. I got very tone, very quickly. In a few short months, I saw muscles in my arms, legs and torso for the first time. I even saw a picture of myself in a Handstand and realized I had muscles in my back.

I went for a medical visit only to have the doctor exclaim about my lack of body fat. All thanks to yoga.

Plus, I was on a yoga high for so long. Every day was a good day, and I saw the positive side of everything.

Indeed, Carl Jung was right. Yoga improved my mood.

When the instructor said that hip openers, like Pigeon pose, released emotions, I sort of doubted that. To me, Pigeon pose was just a position where we lay prone on our mats with one leg bent and tucked up underneath us. Not too comfortable but a good stretch after a long workout.

I also sort of doubted when the instructor told me that my quads hold anger. What did I have to be angry about? Life was good. I felt good. Yoga was good.

So, I would say that, for a good while, I was in agreement with Jung’s first thought: That yoga improves your mood.

Yoga opened up something in me. Little by little, over a long stretch, the classes sort of melted me, and I felt like I was doing some long overdue healing. I felt strong and spirited for the first time in a long time.

But then something strange happened. All sorts of things came up for me. And I doubted myself greatly because the difficult feelings that started bubbling up did not seem to mesh with my newfound self and my newfound outlook.

The instructor also told me that Backbends were heart openers. I sort of doubted that, too. I was just proud to finally accomplish the pose.

I was told Dancer, a standing Backbend, was a heart opener, as well. Boy, I hated those heart openers, and Dancer was the worst!

The more I excelled at the poses, the more so many emotions emerged. And this caught me off guard.

Suddenly, it seemed that what I had put behind me was right in front of me. Old wounds and the like were new again. So much of the the changing I thought I had done over so many years was brought back into question – by me!

I was surprised to find myself in great shape on the outside but not so much on the inside. And, apparently, the inside does not whip into shape as quickly as the outside.

So, I did the only thing I knew to do, which was to persevere through the poses and even through what they seemed to bring forth.

And on some days, it seemed like Carl Jung must have met me when he said that yoga can let loose a flood of sufferings of which no sane person ever dreamed.

On those days, I had wanted to quit.

Instead, I stayed in it and am glad for it. And, finally, my insides have seemingly whipped into better shape, aligning more with my outsides.

As Carl Jung suggested, the impact of the practice is pretty profound. 

Luckily, for me, it has served as teacher and healer in one.

Anne is the author of  Unfold Your Mat, Unfold Yourself​ and is published on Huffington Post and Elephant Journal. Connect with Anne on her blog, Facebook and Twitter.​​

My Feet

I never really gave my feet a passing thought. 

I have just taken them for granted, even with my father as a practicing podiatrist for nearly 40 years. 

But, yoga has changed that.

Now I know my feet are a precious commodity. 

It is not that I have ever really ignored my feet.

I keep them pedicured as a matter of course. And I decorate them with two toe rings, both representing something important to me.   

When my adult daughter was little, she briefly attended a private school and could not choose her wardrobe or wear jewelry.

On her last day, we bought a toe ring each, representing a sort of freedom of expression that she had not been able to enjoy.

We have worn them ever since. A decade later, from college, she mailed me a new toe ring, updating our freedom of expression and sending the message that she still knew to seek it.

A few years following, my son spent a college semester abroad in Australia.

Far from home and knowing no one, he settled in fast, making another home away from home.

During a visit with him, we stopped at an outdoor flea market where a jeweler fit me with a second toe ring.

To me, it represented courage and an openness to new possibilities, both of which my son demonstrated by taking such a journey.

More recently, though, I realized my feet were not so much pretty as they were precious when I found myself standing on them for 12 hours straight for three days in a row, working in the wrong shoes.

Each evening, my feet cried with new blisters, and it actually hurt to walk.

All I could think was that I would be out of commission for yoga.

On the first day of working like this, I wore beautiful new shoes.

They had a platform and did not seem to have too much of an incline, and I thought I would be fine.

It was not until about the sixth hour in them that I realized my new shoes had a time limit.

Another six hours, and I hobbled into the house after driving home barefoot.

The hour was late, but I still tried to pamper my feet before sleep.

All I could think was that I had two more days of working like this before returning to yoga, and I could not imagine doing so.

That night, my feet got the full spa treatment at home. I bathed them. I put cream on them. I rested them. 

The next day, I lowered my fashion standards and changed up my shoes.

I put on what I considered not my best look, a more conservative pair of shoes with a lower heel.

Turns out, these shoes had a longer shelf life but still did not protect my feet from their fate.

I went home that night with new blisters.

Again, they got the full spa treatment.

Finally, on the last of these three days, I just slipped on my comfy, water-stained TOMS, a pair of shoes that have seen better days and are usually only reserved for trips to the yoga studio.

But, on this day, they went out in full form.

And that night, my feet were sore but not too sad.

And the next day, I was pleased to realize they felt fine enough for morning yoga. 

The first half of the practice is a flow, all of which involve standing poses.

We take many, many steps through some lunges, Warrior I and Warrior II, Standing Split and Dancer, Chair Pose and Extended Side Angle, Reverse Side Angle and more.

The rest of the practice takes place while seated, on our backs and on our stomachs.

I am sure there are other parts of me that I take for granted and probably should not.

And, even though yoga has taught me to appreciate my well-being on all levels, I had never really thought about how dependent I am on being physically able.

That morning before yoga, I awoke and swung my feet over the side of the bed.

The bed is tall, and I am not, and my feet do not reach the ground. My painted toes with their rings hung overboard briefly before I touched down with no pain.

That morning, I felt grateful for not only all the steps yoga has taught me, but also for the simple fact that I could take them.