Getting to Know Your Daily Cup of Practice

I’ve mentioned before on this blog how much I appreciate Edward Espe Brown’s description of bringing together his daily coffee with his meditation practice. Brown teaches us that instead of seeing our attachments and habits as an obstacle to mindfulness, we can actually give them room to sit next to us as we experience the very human experience of quiet reflection and meditation.

The physical practice of yoga (asana) also can invite us to bring our messy human selves to the mat. I think this is when a truly personal movement practice begins to flourish. In my asana practice, I might be exploring different patterns like they are ideas or questions—looking around, seeing what I find in my body and my mind as I encounter my breath and body systems.

However, there is also a “daily vitamin” aspect to the movements that I practice regularly. Before yoga became a part of my life, I routinely experienced low back and sciatic pain—like many people who spend a lot of time sitting. Regular practice quickly eliminated this pain at the time; however, as my body ages (and accumulates various injuries—often from horses!), I need to attend to my spine even more consciously. It is not enough for me to simply practice movements I plan to teach or want to learn.

Each home asana practice for me needs to include conscious core support work, deliberate and complete rounding and then extension of my spine, several varieties of spinal twists (often in different dimensions), and several movements that target the outer hip. This is the bare minimum for what feels like a physical “reset” for my body at this point in my life. My asana practice goes on in many other directions, but these basics give me immediate pain relief and allow me to feel ready for more complex movement challenges.

How did I get to know my basics? Well, I’ve learned that if I ignore some of these dimensions for several days, I get achey. I may get less motivated to practice, because I feel stiff and sore. I am more cautious and contained in my everyday movement. In a day or two when I’m thinking, “Gee, why do I feel so out of it?” I finally remember that I need a complete daily cup of practice! The relief comes very quickly and am back into my fuller movement repetoire.

I hope sharing my pattern will encourage you to explore and identify your own daily cup of practice needs. I know it can seem easier to skip practice once there is stiffness and resistance in the body; I invite you to show up anyway, with a kind and gentle attitude towards your body. You may need to lie patiently on your mat, waiting to feel yourself yearn for a certain movement or release. It is quite okay if all your body comes up with is crawling into a ball (or child’s pose), or putting your legs up a chair or wall! As you welcome your body’s insights on its needs, you’ll gradually create your own movement vitamin—which is truly nourishment for both body and soul.

Happy practice!

“What level are you?” And what does it matter, anyway?

“Level 1 students, do this pose. Level 2 students, do this. And only Level 3 students go to this posture.”

Have you ever heard this type of guidance in a yoga class? I was in a class recently that used this language and was reminded instantly of just how frustrating and confusing I find this form of instruction. On the most basic level, the teacher of the class was new to the group and did not know the particular practices and experiences of her students. So, referring to a “level” defined outside of our experience did not fill in many blanks for me about the actual movement instruction. Perhaps in a group where everyone knew what was required at each level this would have made more sense.

But I think I was agitated by something else. Describing students in terms of absolute levels (once a level 1 always a level 1—at least throughout the class hour!) was disorienting. I think most of us have incredible variation within our bodies. When we approach new movements, some of those poses will be very accessible to us, while others are quite challenging. We are often beginners at one kind of movement, while much more adept at another. So our identity as movers and students is simply not that stable!

It’s funny that a similar situation occurs in dressage training. Sometimes our horses are capable at a higher level of performance than we are; sometimes it is the other way around. And often, horse-rider teams are very able at some more advanced movements, but still needing more work on lower level fundamentals. Getting attached to being at “Level X” tends to get in the way of understanding what horses and riders needs to develop.

But there was something else besides disorientation happening in me. I felt frustrated. I felt like I was being tempted to mis-identify as a way to “teach me a lesson.” It was kind of like being tempted to choose something beyond myself (like a higher level) in order to feel important. Now, I know all us dedicated yogis know better than thinking that a more complex movement is “better” or more important. But probably most of us in the U.S. are also familiar with settings that do encourage and even reward us to (always) seek to perform to or beyond our maximum abilities.

I could feel myself grappling with this misidentification process. Although I have practiced asanas for years, there are still many movements which are truly difficult for me. I remain very much a beginner. I am usually comfortable accepting this truth–especially in settings that appreciate beginner’s mind, beginner’s body! In this particular level-naming setting, I found I needed to really “check-out” from the teacher and connect much more to my inner body wisdom. As I practiced, I thought of myself as “level 0″—which I named internally as the “compassionate level.”

After the class, I thought more about my reactions and emotions. I think much of my resistance to this approach has to do with the kind of learning environment that was created in this class. I like opportunities to shift and change my imagined identity through conscious practice. I like to be encouraged to make informed choices about movement and my body. I appreciate the cultivation of compassionate understanding in myself and my fellow students. I don’t want to blindly reject challenges, but nor do I want to sign up for every challenge that is presented.

As a teacher, this experience reminded me of how important it is in movement education to prepare students to make meaningful personal assessments. If I tell a student “Continue on in this movement unless you feel a loss of adequate support”, they need to know what adequate support is. They need to know how to cultivate that support and maintain it through movement, space and time. They need compassionate feedback and acceptance of their readiness for any movement–on any given day.

We are complex, evolving bodily beings who move through identities and ideas about what we can do with lightening speed. Yoga offers us a chance to slow down and make very conscious, in the moment decisions. And the decisions we make today might be quite different from yesterday’s or tomorrows.

Happy practice!

Mindful Hiking

One of my favorite activities in Tennessee is hiking. Whether it’s in the Smoky Mountains or exploring the gorges of the Cumberland Plateau, I love the chance to visit amazing natural features under my own power.

My introduction to hiking came when I was just a kid. My family and I did a lot of what I remember as “waterfall hikes” in upstate New York and various parts of New England. These experiences introduced me to the idea that walking to an interesting feature in the woods is a good way to spend the afternoon. I also remember first seeing the Appalachian Trail in New Hampshire when I was 8 or so. I thought it was fascinating to imagine following this trail all the way to Maine or Georgia, just by walking. I ended up doing more hiking in college and then even more when I moved to California. I was hooked!

Now that I’m in Tennessee, I’ve had to learn to embrace the particular rhythms and challenges of hiking in this part of the country. Our mountains here are not the biggest, but ascents are steady and trails are quite rocky and often moist from seeps or rain. Despite years of work strengthening my ankles and knees through yoga practice, I still have pretty wimpy joints. And, I’ve had some bad ankle injuries over the years on trails by not paying attention.

So when I embark on a hike, I am also diving into a period of deep attention. Each placement of my foot matters—for my stability, comfort and even safety. As I begin the walk up hill, I settle into releasing my leg and foot to the ground, one step at a time. For me, this is an experience of allowing gravity to draw my leg and foot safely to the earth. I feel my bipedalism deeply in these moments. We often take our talent for being upright for granted, but when the ground is steep and slippery, the challenge of standing up and walking is more clear! I also pay attention to my posture and core support. It is easy to get in the habit of leaning forward on an uphill hike. Wearing a backpack can also encourage this habit. But I know that if I engage my belly and maintain a long alignment of my spine—without folding at the waist–I will move more comfortably, with more grace and more speed. My shoulders will also thank me!

I’ve learned that my hikes in this part of the country require me to move mindfully with each step, or to stop moving when I want to take in my environment with my eyes. I like the deliberate choices I need to make here—the trails are uneven enough that if I try to multitask (Look at that mountain! Look at those wildflowers!), I will probably stumble badly. There is a patience and calm in this practice of hiking.

Your mindful hiking might feel very different. But where ever you might walk in the woods or mountains, I hope you enjoy the deep quiet and attention that comes from moving your body through the natural world.