The Wall

The only thing I knew how to do was to keep on keepin’ on … ~ Tangled Up In Blue, Bob Dylan

Less from me and more from you!

These were the words of the yoga instructor as we moved through our Sun B’s while we jumped back and forth in our vinyasas. She was asking us to find our bandhas, or locks, and to look for our quiet landings.

I was looking for something else. I was looking for a way past a wall that had appeared in my practice. I was looking for the strength to tear it down.

I started getting annual physicals right before I found yoga. The doctor spoke with me about exercise and strength. Specifically, we talked about the strength of my bones.

She took one look at me and exclaimed, You must be careful!

Why? I asked.

Well, she answered, because you are small and white!

These are things I cannot change! But, apparently, people who are both small and white are more at risk for osteoporosis, or a weakening of the bones. I was sent for a scan and discovered that I was indeed teetering on the brink.

What was also discovered was my family’s now long-running joke about how small and white I am!

And I was left to wonder whether it’s ever possible to return from the brink, or if it’s just inevitable to one day hit a wall – the place where we are only what we think.

Maybe this is why I’ve yet to capture the lift when I jump forward or back, or why my arms sometimes shake after Fire Jumps. And what about Warrior III? My back still feels this pose when I think it shouldn’t. And don’t get me started on the handstands. Oh, the handstands!

The other day after class I was talking about this brink with a friend. He has lots of muscles and teaches something called Chiseled Yoga, a class that incorporates weights. We talked at length while he made several motions this way and that, demonstrating the curls and squats and lifts that he thought might help me in my practice.

And then he lowered his voice. And this, too, he said softly. And I watched as he jumped in place and came down hard, both feet landing at the same time, again and again. Women of a certain age, he whispered, need to jump 10 times a day like this. It’s good for their bones!

My bones! For months, I’d been lagging on my calcium regimen. I made a mental note to start them up again.

Days later, I was at another practice. This was Rocket yoga, a practice on which I count to build my strength. And it was a good practice, too, but still my wall wouldn’t budge. Afterward, I chatted with the instructor as I got ready to leave.

Something’s missing for me in there, I told her, pointing to the practice room from which we’d all just exited.

At one point, she had actually removed another wall for me. She had literally turned my back to it. That’s how I finally got my freestanding handstands and my freestanding Forearm Stands.

So I explained about this new wall. Surely, she had seen it, too.

Her answer was to remind me of how to deepen my practice. She encouraged me in my efforts to drop into a backbend from standing. And, most important, she spoke about the ever elusive bandhas that were causing me so much doubt.

You’ve got them, she said. You have the strength!

We made our way out of the studio, passing the newly painted wall adorned with the golden letters of a chant. She was several steps ahead when she looked back with one more thought.

You just wait, Anne, she said. Those drop backs are heart openers. Once you get those, your life is going to change. It’s already cracked open some.

I was surprised to hear her mention a wall I thought no one else could see. Did she really believe there wasn’t an end to whatever it is we could be? I have to say this was a revelation for me!

Days later, I was practicing again, and I was feeling good. The music was playing and the room was full and I was flowing. We hit the floor and moved into Forearm Plank.

The instructor encouraged us to hold ourselves there, to lift our hearts into our backs, to tighten our quads and press into our forearms.

Be honest! she said. Don’t wait to get stronger later. Get stronger now!

I held myself in the pose and felt a trickle of sweat roll down my forehead and over my nose. I tucked my chin and watched it drop to my mat with a splat.

And in that moment I realized something grand, that perhaps our strength is always at hand. I could see mine right there in that drop of sweat. It was the reason my mat was soaking wet!

And that was all it took for my wall to fall. And now I’m hoping it’s gone, once and for all.

And gone now, too, is the thought of a brink, because my plan is to keep on going. I want to plant my seeds and see what’s sowing!

So this is how I’ve turned a new leaf, which to me has been a huge relief. I’ve made the decision to continue to sweat, because I don’t want to be done just yet.

The practice is only a gift to explore. It’s an effort to feel what I’ve not felt before.

And so I’ll look for my bandhas all day long, because I know the attempt is what’s making me strong. And I’m going to keep on dropping back, because, apparently, I’ve already opened up a crack.

Warrior

We were standing in Warrior II, a pose that at one time was my favorite pose.

Arms extend front to back, the legs lunge forward, and the hips open to the side.

At one time, I  had thought this pose was easy.

Now, I beg to differ.

95 degree heat.

Sweat dripping down every part of my body.

The class is an army of warriors, and the instructor is our commander, pointing out minor adjustments to everyone in the room.

Move your front knee towards your pinky toe. Drop a little lower in your hips.

The instructor actually reaches behind my knee and pulls it forward to entice my hips to drop.

It works.

Look past your front hand. Push your shoulders down. Don’t forget to relax your jaw.

Each instruction is so minor, but every incremental shift feels so major to my body.

I am sweating Warrior II!

Once all instructions are followed, we are supposed to just land there, stay there and be still, except, of course, for the breath.

No matter what, we are supposed to breathe.

Just as I am wondering why we are doing this, why we have to remain so still for so long, the instructor issues this command:

Be the bedrock!

She starts to speak about the strength of our foundation, how we are supposed to pull the energy up from our feet, which are pressed down like there is no tomorrow, and into our hips.

Our base is supposed to be strong and steady.

Don’t be the driftwood! she admonishes, before releasing us from the pose with the long awaited instruction to cartwheel it out.

I roll my back arm up and over my shoulder to meet my front arm, and gratefully lower my body on an exhale before pressing upward and through my Vinyasa.

I am the bedrock for many people in my life, and it has not been hard at all.

I have not had to sweat it out, to say the least.

It has been easy to be there for my children, for my sister, my parents, my friends and colleagues.

I am often told by others that I have helped them see their way clear.

The other day, a friend told me that I envelop people.

On a lark, I visited a Vedic astrologer who told me that I am someone to whom others come in order to share their “shadow sides”, or secrets.

But, even a piece of bedrock needs to lean on others sometimes, and this has taken me a long time to learn.

For me, it is not so easy to reach out.

To be honest, that is what I really sweat!

And this is where I think I disagree with the instructor. 

I have learned that it is okay to be the driftwood at different times in life.

For the first time, I have reached out to others for support, and I have been the recipient of an overwhelming dose of wisdom, love and comfort.

And I admit to a certain relief, even though I sort of felt doing so might be a negative, almost as if for me to flounder could be a bad thing.

It is certainly not an easy thing, but maybe it is how one gets to the other side of something problematic. 

One friend, a fellow warrior, really, sent me a text, almost giving me permission to be a piece of driftwood for a time.

She said: Remember you must take care of yourself and those you love. It’s okay to lose focus once in a while. That’s all part of life, and it’s all good as long as you can get up, brush yourself off and go forward.

I call her a fellow warrior because she, too, has come through some hardships successfully and has seen her way clear to a good, strong place. 

After our Vinyasa, we move into Warrior I, a difficult pose with arms up by the ears, legs in a lunge but hips forward, this time.

Move your hands to your heart, and spread out into Warrior II, the instructor says.

Our army follows its commander who allows us the moment to touch our hearts in the transition between Warrior I and II.

I land again in Warrior II, sweating but feeling strong, moving between poses and excusing my heart its breaks in between.

Heart Opener

I would like to say I have an open heart.

 

It sounds nice and like something I should have. 

 

Blessed with family and friends, I have people in my life for whom I open my heart.

 

Yet, the heart can go through some rough terrain over a period of time, and it can cause the guard gates to go up, requiring encouragement and often a leap of faith to get back in gear.

Wheel is one of my least favorite poses in yoga.

It is a back bend, something I have not done since I was a little girl.

More than 20 years ago, I sprained my lower back and have since been on guard against it getting hurt again.

After an emergency trip to the hospital, and several weeks laid up, I was finally rescued by an Osteopath who, mercifully, tweaked my back with some gentle pressure, allowing me to reach my toes for the first time in weeks. 

Needless to say, when I first started yoga, and the instructor announced it was time for Wheel, I balked.

Laying there on the mat, I told him I do not really twist. Nor do I bend like that. I was on guard for fear of my back.

He stood above my head, looked down at me and told me to brace myself on his ankles. He leaned down and scooped me up under my upper back and, voila! I was in a back bend – albeit with some support.

This went on for a few classes until I realized I did not have to fear my back, and soon I could push up into a back bend on my own.

Next, I was encouraged to try a variation; to go into a back bend and lift one leg, hold it for a beat or two, place it down, and do the same with the other.

I had seen this done by others in the room but, again, my guard was up. I could not even get the toes of one foot off the ground. 

Once more, my instructor encouraged me. He stood alongside me and placed his knee under my back. With his support, I was able to lift my leg and hold it for that beat. Soon after, I could do this on my own.

In yoga, it is believed that there are seven main energy centers aligned along the spinal column called Chakras.

Coincidentally, Chakra is the Sanskrit word for Wheel.

If balanced, these energy centers spin in wheel-like circles, and all is well emotionally, physically, intellectually and spiritually.

However, if we navigate some rough terrain, some of these Chakras can become blocked, and it is the yoga poses that help open them up and get the energy flowing properly once more.

The fourth Chakra is the Heart Chakra, located at the center of the chest. It is associated with love and trust, and the first step in its healing is to find faith and love for oneself.

The yoga pose associated with releasing any blockage in this Chakra is, coincidentally, the Wheel.

There is yet another way to get into Wheel, and that is to stand on the knees in a position called Camel, place the hands in prayer at heart center, and tilt back, going overboard while extending the hands up and over the head to finally find the floor behind the feet.

The knees come up off the ground and the body winds up in Wheel.

The motion is fluid, but there is a moment of limbo before the knees are up, before the hands are on the ground, before the body is safely positioned.

Once again, my instructor stood nearby, verbally guiding me through the motion.

In the split second that I realized I was in limbo, and in the millisecond that I was deciding to bail, he encouraged me, saying, Keep going, keep going, keep going! That was all I needed to make that leap of faith to land my hands.

I was safe. I was in Wheel.

Soon after, I confessed to my instructor that Wheel was my least favorite pose.

“Heart opener,” was all he said.

I got the message. Those two words summed up the work that needs to be done to lower the guard gates and get my heart in gear.