One of the things I most love about yoga is that it meets us where we are. When we settle down on the mat (or rug, or chair or bed...) to begin our practice, and take a few breaths to arrive, the yoga will find us right there, in that moment, no matter how different we are from the last time we arrived. It doesn't matter if it's been 8 hours or 8 months, whether our body looks different or some new change has come into our life. Whenever we sit down and breathe, there it is.
What is special about yoga is that no matter what is going on with your mind or body, yoga can meet you where you are. However, very often, the way mainstream, modern postural yoga is taught often does not reflect this truth. Many times, yoga these days is taught as an exercise class that requires practioners to be thin, hypermobile, able-bodied, and often wealthy and white.
Over the past year and a half, as I furthered my education in yoga and teaching yoga in ways that are inclusive and safe, I have taken time off from my own practice from time to time. Sometimes this has been because of illness, and other times is has been partly due to a disillusionment and a struggle to reconcile the yoga that I first fell in love with with my studies of how yoga can meet people with different abilities and sizes, the functional range of motion for human joints, the science of hypermobility and its role in modern yoga, the study of trauma and the nervous system. It has been at time endless fascinating and exciting, and at time heartbreaking.
Yoga had been a space where I found empowerment and achievement as well as peace of mind. It forced me to be present in the extreme sensations and to find my breath through it all. It felt familiar, like dancing, with a choreography and correct lines and a mastery of my body. But through the journey of my studies, I realized the extent to which this form of mainstream, hypermobile asana was hurting me. I did not know how to reconcile the information from my body and from the study of functional ranges of motion and hypermobility with what I loved about yoga. I didn’t know how to make sense of the true benefits of yoga, the intuitive information coming from my body, and the ego-boosting attachments I had to being a hypermobile practitioner in a field which praises and rewards its exploitation.
Since I was a teenager, yoga helped me to find sanity and empowerment in times of chaos and ungroundedness in my life. I used to think I just liked extreme sensations, that this was how it was supposed to feel, but I have come to realize that it was actually that I couldn’t interpret signs from my body unless it was shouting. It was as though it was trying to communicate with me, but I didn’t speak the language. It was especially after taking time off that I could return to yoga and hear what my body had been trying to tell me. As I have learned, experienced and become more in touch with my body, I realized that the focus of modern postural yoga on almost exclusively hypermobile bodies, and exploiting its range of motion in ways that cause pain and injury over time, came at the cost of my body’s wellbeing.
Time and time again, I come back to the mat committed to finding ways to experience what I love about yoga in a way that would honor what my body was telling me. It involves exploration and creativity and trial and error based on my continuing studies and education. Over time, and in ever-changing ways, I find new ways to be present, tuned in to the subtle whispers of my body, challenged and empowered, grounded, and in which I found peace. I didn’t know it could be so good, so grounding, so simple and joyful and present.
I was reflecting on this today while I sipped coffee on my balcony and delighted in the climbing jasmine I had planted on the trellis, with bursts of lush green buds and leaves seeking sunlight. At the same time that those lush, bright green sprigs are unfolding towards the sky, older, tired leaves are dropping off. The plant is letting go of what no longer serves it, what holds it back, in order to make space and use energy for the new growth. It reminded me by that taking time off of yoga is not wasted time about which I should feel guilty or lazy about. It is necessary germination and integration of information, concepts, experiences and self-reflection that allows me to now see clearly the tired old leaves I can leave behind and shed, to make room for fresh growth. They served me once, and played an important role, but it is now time to let go of the practices and attachments that got me through hard times before and nourish budding growth which honors and supports where I am as I come to the mat today, on the continuous path forward.