WHEN NO MEANS YES AND YES MEANS NO

Most of us who practice yoga, especially those brand new to the practice, want to do it "right".  We've seen the pretzel-y shapes bodies assume in full-out advanced yoga poses and assume that's the way we all should look on the mat.  Not so.  Or at least not right away.  And maybe never.  Or maybe for awhile, but not forever.

We all come to the practice of yoga with the bodies we have at any given time, on any given day.  Some are supple, flexible, and strong.  Some carry extra weight, have stiff joints, or weak muscles.  Some are strong on one side, weak on the other.  Some are recovering from injuries.  Some have limitations that have been, or will be, lifelong.  If yoga was only for the fit, the whole point of it would be lost.  We come to yoga for peace, calm, and acceptance of what is -- while also seeing the possibilities for what might be a way to move toward greater emotional, spiritual, and physical health.

In class last week, Karen assisted new students with finding the shape of the pose she was demonstrating.   I overheard the words, "yes" and "no" in equal number.  I thought this was a great exchange between teacher and student.  I even silently said a few "yeses" and "nos" during the practice myself.  I have been an irregular practitioner for a few weeks and am suffering through a painful bout of plantar fasciitis.  I'm not feeling my strongest, most flexible self right now in spite of my 10 years of practice.  (I didn't even start yoga until I was 57.  See?  Hope for everyone!)

I notice the tendency in myself and others, again especially new students, to hesitate to say "no" to a pose.  We want to push, to please the teacher, to feel competent.  But saying "no" when a pose is too challenging or causes discomfort is really a "yes" to your body and to taking care of yourself.  That "no" is really a "yes" to committing to getting stronger and more flexible over time...and to not rushing and likely hurting yourself by pushing too far, too soon.

In the process of learning what is a "no" we also learn what is a "yes" and may find delight in a body that teaches us to pay attention to what pleases us as well as what hurts us.  Backing off a "no" pose and finding the "yes" sweet spot is cause for celebration.  Saying "yes" to an easier form of the pose is a strong "no" to denying your own limitations.

We all want to feel competent, to be flexible, strong, and balanced.  Sometimes finding the "yeses" and "nos" that guide us there is the best and most important lesson we can learn... on the mat and off.

Noticing when and where we deny our true selves and when and where we embrace our true selves; when and where we choose to grow and when and where we choose to remain stuck --  those are the lessons of yoga we take into our homes, families, workplaces, and community.

Let your practice on your mat be your guide.  Your body will say "yes" when it feels good, "no" when it doesn't, and maybe even "not yet" when you see the possibility of moving to "yes".  Like I always say...Yoga is life. ©

Namaste,  donnajurene

Picture Credit:  Copyright: <a href='https://www.123rf.com/profile_sorad'>sorad / 123RF Stock Photo</a>

OH THE NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!

The holidays and travels wrecked havoc with my yoga practice schedule.  When I showed up in class this week after a long hiatus, I was sore, stiff, and ready to dive back in.  Plus, I'd somehow developed some foot pain reminiscent of plantar fasciitis.  (Blaming the new boots I wore to walk many miles in downtown Seattle during a recent stay.) I asked our teacher, Elizabeth, if she could devote some time to foot pain issues.

Class was wonderful -- slow, gentle, therapeutic -- and my feet got lots of loving attention.  When it was time for savasana, I was eager to sink into a time of quiet meditation and gratitude.

Then the racket began.  There is construction going on across the already busy and sometimes noisy street in front of the studio.  But just as we settled onto our mats, a roaring sound emanated and continued for the whole time we lay on our mats.  It sounded like a gigantic lawnmower, or hedge trimmer, or hole borer -- an engine whining loudly.  It also sounded like it was aimed directly at the glass wall where I was cozied up on the street side of the studio.  I wondered if some behemoth machinery was going to breach the wall at some point and run me over.  (This is the mind of an anxiety-prone person; worst case scenarios prevail.)

When Elizabeth brought us out of the savasana she immediately acknowledged the "elephant" in the room.  (Yes!  Maybe it was a bellowing elephant!) and reminded us that conditions are not always perfect, but life in the moment is.  She suggested that when we are unexpectedly distracted by a sound like that, the idea is to lean into the sound, not try to mentally run from it or resent it.   It was then I realized that I'd had a tandem mind game going on in savasana.  Part of me just wanted to identify what it was; it was all I could do not to jump up and try to see through the frosted glass.  The other part of me heard the variations of the sound, paying attending to the waxing and waning of the droning engine, noting that the sound was quite varied and almost musical as the intonations went on.

It's easy to practice and meditate in what we might think of as "perfect" conditions -- all those photos of solitary yogis on mountaintops or beaches or forests.  But real life is not like that.  Our practice happens in living rooms, bedrooms, and noisy yoga studios.  Yoga is life and life is far from perfect.  Each moment is ours to inhabit, whether it be taking deep, calming breaths on a crowded elevator, standing to stretch after long hours in front of the computer, or meditating to the sounds of traffic.  The more we practice, the better we become at being free from attachments to expectations -- and the happier we will be, come what may. ©

Namaste,  donnajurene

Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com