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In the yoga room, I’ve been taught more lessons about my body than I could possibly count. I am infinitely grateful for what I can handle, as I am equally discouraged by what I can’t. And this is all yoga.
We have two options: die young or become disabled. Our bodies change over time, and they can and will deteriorate. Conditions arise just as much as they subside with age, and we’ll always need to adjust our forms of support.
Last year, I began to experience disabling chronic pain that I can work and teach through, but it became very challenging for me to find the right supportive practice. And while I’m fortunate to have doctors, a bodyworker, and PT and other therapies to help, finding the right care has been and will be a journey.
The gift of pain is its lessons. When things aren’t working properly and pain-free, we have a far better understanding of its function. Through my own experience, I learned details about the sacroiliac joints and what supports a healthy system.
It opened up a world of curiosity about the hips, outer legs, glutes, hamstrings and hip flexors, and it affected my teaching deeply. I grew because of it. I developed new ways of approaching student concerns, often adding on strength drills before reaching for any length-creating postures.
While stretching offers instant relief, it is strength-building postures that often yield long-term results. I learned this lesson viscerally—that muscle tone is essential to this practice. I now have even more in my arsenal to support students, no matter how hard-won this information was.
In my ideal world, the asana, or physical practice of yoga, supports our very existence in our bodies through mindful attention to its needs. It’s one of the reasons I take requests from students at the top of class. I want to know what’s happening with you so that I can point to a method of support.
Even if no one speaks up, I ask because the question attunes you to the experience of living in your body. When we stop to think of the body—receive its messages and interpret that into action—we can then perceive transcendence, that there is more to us than our corporeal experience.