Nose Dive

From the time I was little, I was taught to stand up straight and sit up straight.  

Even in my little girl ballet classes, when we folded forward, we had to hold the fold so straight that even the teacher’s lipstick case would not roll off our backs. 

Summers would find me at camp, seated with my bunkmates on benches instead of on chairs at each meal. I remember part way through one summer, the counselor looking at all of us hunched there and exclaiming, You all started out sitting up so straight, and now look at you! We rose to better attention and, for the rest of the summer, made a conscious effort to sit up straight. 

And, yes, a la Marcia and Jan Brady, I even spent several months with my sister going to what was called Charm School, where we walked around balancing a book on our heads. 

Today, there are studies about the positive effects of a positive posture. Posture can be what it takes to fake it ‘til you make it on any given day because how we carry ourselves is how we care for ourselves.  

After all, what’s being lifted when we hold ourselves up is our hearts, so there’s really no better reason to not be slouching around. 

So now, with ballet and camp and charm school in the past, I turn to yoga to straighten up.  

At yoga, there’s lots of talk about the heart and, before we even start, we are called to the top of our mats and told to stand up straight. We pull in our bellies and push down our shoulders. We reach up, lift up, and look up.  

And it’s no matter how hunched over I might have been before or for how long because the practice gives me the chance to stand up straight again and again, and that only feels good. 

It’s taken me a long time to fall in love with any of the heart opening poses, where we lift or puff out our chests. But, now, I even like leaning back, so my heart flows up and over and almost overboard. 

I’ve taken some classes where this intuitive link between movement and the heart is emphasized. For me, these classes seem to help close the gap between the young girl who knew to always sit up straight and the older one who, at times, can forget to walk tall. 

In these classes, it’s slow going and hard working. We reach and stretch and pull ourselves into postures, and we are reminded to have our hearts like Sphinx, the pose where, even low to the ground, the shoulders are back and the chest is lifted. 

Round and round we go, following our hearts to the front of the mat and then to the back, stopping each time to open and lift to one side or the other.  

And more recently, we’ve done something called Toppling Tree, where we go through a series of balances on one foot only to wind up with the other high in the air behind us, our bodies in a nose dive with our chests lifted and leading the way to the mat. 

And, surprisingly, it’s there in that nose dive that all my caution disappears. I come to stillness while soaring towards the mat as my arms and shoulders pull back and my chest presses forward in this one big tilt led by the heart. 

By the time we get to the part where we put our hands on our hips and turn out our toes to lean back, I find I can lift my heart high enough and lean back far enough to get a full on look at the wall behind me. And, I wonder if I’m overboard enough to put my hands down for Wheel, or if my heart is just telling me I can.  

And when it’s time for the ending backbends, mine come easily and without any usual stiffness. 

If movement and the heart are linked, then I guess I can liken caring for my heart the way I would walking with a cupful of coffee and no cover. I’d have to tread lightly so as not to spill. 

And that’s a pretty daunting analogy, because I’ve always been a big spiller. 

Regardless, in this class, it’s like I’m filled to the brim but able to move without a lid. I think that’s how I wound up so happy in the nose dive. 

At the end of class, we are asked to sit up straight with our hands at our hearts. And without further ado or the usual closing, the instructor says only: You all will have sweet dreams tonight. 

And this simple announcement actually comes true. That night, I close my eyes to a dream where I’m practicing the same circular motions in the same roundabout flow, my heart lifted by the movements for another chance to stand up straight again and again, even in my sleep.

No Regrets

Trust that all that was needed to be done, was done. Everything is okay.

These are the closing words of an instructor whose class I have taken several times.

At the end of each practice, we roll onto our right sides into a fetal position and rest there for a minute, eyes closed. 

And each time, she says these words.

The comforting words wash over almost 30 of us who are each lying separately on our mats but together in the studio.

How is it that, at any age, it can be so reassuring to curl up in a fetal position and hear the words most of us heard as babies?

Everything is okay. Simple words that we all want to be certain are true.

In my yoga practice, when I am moving well, the poses come easily, and the positions meld one into the other through seamless transitions.

And everything is okay.

However, there can be times when my back acts up, making the Vinyasas, or transitions, difficult.

In a Vinyasa, we move from high plank, to low push up, to Upward Facing Dog and back to Downward Facing Dog.

Once, I even had to gather my courage to roll up my mat mid-practice and side step my way over about 10 people just to leave the room to give my back a break. 

And, there can be times when my balance is just completely off, making it difficult to stand in Tree Pose where we are on one foot with the other one tucked to the opposite thigh, or finding me wobbling my way through Half Moon where we stand on one leg, tilt forward, open our bodies to the side and spread our arms like a standing starfish.

During those difficult practices, it does not seem like everything is okay.

But, if I am to believe the instructor, I need to trust that all that is needed to be done, was done, whether I wobble or fall out of a pose.

In other words, I am not supposed to have regrets in my practice. However it goes is fine enough.

Like everything in yoga, I can lift this lesson off the mat.

If a situation finds me feeling a little off balance, or the day starts off a little wobbly, maybe that is okay.

Maybe I do not have to always be moving well and transitioning seamlessly for things to be okay.

I basically raised my children with this philosophy, to exercise their will to impact their own lives but to also allow for the unknown, for things out of their control.

I taught them that this is when faith kicks in, and if something is to come to fruition, then it will or will not. As long as they do what they can, then whatever the result is actually enough.

It is okay.

To trust for everything to be okay, though, takes more than faith.

It takes compassion for oneself, which for me can sometimes be a challenge.

I can look back in some instances and decide that if only I had done things differently, then a different outcome would magically have appeared.

In these imagined scenarios, of course, the magical outcome is always the one I desire.

The practice of yoga encourages me to take the instructor’s words to heart and, with compassion, trust in myself that I have done all that needs to be done.

And that all is really okay.

Yin Yang

As a kid, my goal in life was to grow up to be a hippie.

When I was little, I had a pair of denim colored Keds. They were too cool for words, and I made them even cooler with ink drawings all over.

Peace and love signs. Flower power. Kilroy was here. And the Yin/Yang symbol.

I never really knew what the Yin/Yang symbol meant, but I would draw it all the same.

When I was younger, I thought it had something to do with infinity and, as I grew older, I realized it had to do with opposites.

But, it was not until yoga that I came to understand that Yin and Yang are really about duality, and its meaning was impressed upon me the other day in the studio.

We were in Tree pose.

Standing on one leg, the other leg bends at the knee with the foot in the groin. Hands come into prayer, and the body stands still, looking straight ahead at a stare point, or Dristi.

After holding the pose for a bit, the hands interlace and lift up overhead, eyes following, all the while standing on one leg. The torso tilts back; eyes look for the back wall – a standing backbend.
 

Stand strong, the instructor said. Don’t be concerned about instability. After all, instability is only the opportunity for stability.
 

I was wobbling on my left foot, listening intently, and something clicked. Instead of thinking about how I could not hold the balance, I thought about the opportunity to do so.

My body calmed, I rooted into my standing leg, and I became still.

Yin and Yang.

The Yin/Yang symbol comprises two opposite shapes nestled together. Something positive cannot exist without the knowledge or experience of the negative. All is one, nestled together, and this is explained in the second verse of The Book of Tao, the ancient, classic Chinese text. The verse unveils the concept of the harmony of opposites – or the Yin and Yang. A portion follows:

Being and non-being create each other.
Difficult and easy support each other.
Long and short define each other.
High and low depend on each other.
Before and after follow each other.

We switch standing legs, and I bring the other foot to the groin. My hands return to prayer, and I find my focal point.

In yoga, a lot happens through enacting opposite forces simultaneously. We push down to go up.

In tree pose, one leg presses down and straight while the other is up and bent. The arms stretch upward while the shoulders press downward.

In Handstand, the hands press into the floor while the legs lift into the air.

In arm balances, the torso leans down and forward while the hips and legs tilt up and back.

Yoga poses appear to be the physical manifestations of the second verse of the Tao! Who knew?

So, it appears that my almost falling over in the yoga studio was really just an opportunity to stand up strong, straight and balanced!

This idea of the negative giving rise to the positive, and vice versa, seems so simple, but the reality of such situations, as in some yoga poses, often proves difficult.

I interlace my fingers and reach my hands over my head while rooting down in my standing leg. The opposite movements actually facilitate my balance if I relax into it.

It occurs to me that Yin/Yang, the second verse of Tao and yoga itself are all really about acceptance.

And therein lies both the opportunity and the balance.

Not a bad lesson to learn while hanging out in a tree.