But a couple of weeks ago, in solidarity with a regular practitioner who is recovering from shoulder surgery, Karen suggested the entire class do "chair yoga". I internally balked, but went along because I don't believe in anarchy. So I grabbed my folding chair from the stash behind the curtain -- a stash I never even knew existed.
Karen led us through seated postures, standing postures where we used the chair back and chair seat to support us, balance postures where a grab at a stationary object was quite appreciated, I admit, and even floor postures where we did forward folds into the chair seat.
Here's what I noticed. First, obviously, was the awareness of my resistance; my "superiority complex" of not needing a chair -- nor even wanting one. I got over that pretty quickly because it was just so obviously an Ego thing. "Shush, Judgy One! Try something new!"
I noticed how some familiar poses were so much easier with a chair. Others, however, were much harder. Poses I could do easily without the chair became more difficult because of having to accommodate the prop. I was puzzled because I didn't expect that to happen. And I was frustrated. I just wanted to kick the chair aside and get on with my regular practice. I actually felt a bit angry about having to make the chair a part of my asana.
At one point, leaning into the seat of the chair in a forward fold, quietly listening to my breath, letting thoughts settle, I awoke to the fact that this must be exactly how those who are injured or impaired in any way feel every single day. They want to kick the chair (or cane, or walker, or wheelchair) aside and get back to their "normal" life. But they can't. They have to learn a new way of being and moving that includes a "prop". Generally the prop is necessary and appreciated in that it allows mobility where mobility would be impossible otherwise. But it also adds an alien feature to their identity. I've watched several members of my family and friends, due to age or illness, navigate the inclusion of canes and walkers in their lives. I've seen folks on crutches and in wheelchairs trying to propel themselves forward with some measure of competence. None of them looked particularly happy about it, at least initially.
This awareness, this even fleeting connection with and understanding of what others experience was such a gift to me. My superiority complex faded into humility and gratitude; the recognition that I am merely "currently-abled". I am one accident, one fall, one diagnosis away from having a "prop" be a permanent part of my practice and of my life. And when that is the case for me, I will be grateful for the presence of every prop I can lay hands on to keep me involved in life.
As is so often the case, this yoga class had so little to do with asana and so much to do with a change in perspective, an awareness of the story of Ego, and the rise of compassion for others. Yoga is not an exercise class. Yoga is life. ©
Namaste, donnajurene
Photo Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/794181715509631804/
No comments:
Post a Comment