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Five years ago on this day, I fall out of bakasana, and I don’t even realize it until my foot is on the floor. I didn’t freak out or criticize. It was natural, human, almost expected. This is a personal accomplishment with my balancing poses.
I rise into a belly-down backbend during Jurian’s 6:30 a.m. sadhana and realized that such poses are very dramatic for me. I lift so effortlessly, I feel like I am flying. Maybe it’s the root bandhas pressing into the floor. Afterward, the exhilaration, the buoyancy I feel is incredibly strong. I cry. I tear up. I feel a movement inside of me that feels like my blood is dancing.
We do a belly-down navasana, followed by a spinal twist. Jurian allows us to go into Stage 3, and I was craving a heart-opener–I could feel my heart wanting to scream to the world. I did ustrasana, Camel, but afterward my heart ached so much that I could not lower my arms in savasana. I had to keep them over my heart and chest protectively for a few minutes before putting them to my sides. Perhaps I ache to share my heart. I ache to rise to others and be open, loving. But eventually, my heart aches in a sad way. Recoil. shell, hide out until the next opportunity for Locust or Boat.
***
After breakfast, we discuss modifications and assists. Somewhere in between, I question why all the Kripalu staff drop the letter A off of most Sanskrit words and call pranayama pranayam and utkatasana utkatasan, so on and so forth. “I think all the older people dropped off the A to cool,” Rudy joked. Added Roger: “I’m so cool, I just say yog.”
***
Observation: My Oms are getting stronger, starting from the belly, the diaphragm, the heart. I no longer hold back; I am vocal, I am filled with life. I have a voice, I am not afraid to use it. I carry my “mmmm” until my very last breath.
Group Om
***
Rudy leads an afternoon sadhana during which we do standing yoga mudra, and my mind escapes into another realm. The visualizations I have are wild, something one might expect from using illegal substances. For instance, as I am hanging over my knees, I see an image of something like a paper towel roll, spinning down in a waterfall-like cascade of vanilla yogurt and what looks like chives. It is spinning, pouring down, down, this white liquid with green speckles. I see a garden of eyeballs, and where there should be heads of lettuce planted in the earth, there are eyeballs instead.
I see Kripalu’s walls, but it is empty. I go up and down the staircases, but there is nothing on the walls, there is no color, no people. It is very lonely and very frightening.
I see my body in the form of a body bag. My body has a zipper, and I am being zipped from the neck up. The zipper is on my face, my face is over my face, closing over my face. (Author’s Note. Yes, that is what I wrote.)
After yoga mudra, I inhale, rise, and feel amazingly buoyed. There is a force under my arms, and it keeps my arms afloat. I want to dance with this movement, this watery motion. After doing sun breath, my arms lower and I feel more energy in my left hand. I feel like someone has ever-so-briefly slipped their hand into my left hand. So gentle. The loving grandmother appears again.
During our Stage 3, I find myself going into setu bandhasana, very quickly, very forcefully. I feel like someone is hovering above me, as though Jurian is standing over my head and Megha at my feet. I then thrust up into full Bridge, then Wheel, very quickly, no preparation, no thinking involved.
Rudy, the "Gentle Yogi"
***
After a long and deep deliberation on the yama of aparigraha (way too involved to include here), I reflect on my ahtitam (small group), A, G, and E. We felt pretty separate until today’s sharing of the yamas and niyamas. Everyone divulged. Here we are, four strangers, confiding in each other about what we feel holds us back in life. Once strangers, now connected in 30 minutes. How? Why? It is because we are safe. Kripalu, Megha, Rudy, Jurian, Roger, Leila, and Helga have made us feel so loved and appreciated that we do not hesitate to be honest. Satya = truth. We are no longer afraid.
***
The camaraderie continues into the night, as Dorm 129 has a “late-night” after-hours party from 9:15 to 10:30. Whee! Everyone brings a snack, so there is juice, tea, apples, chocolate, gummy bears, cookies, pretzels, chips, popcorn. We talk about Kripalu’s dense food and our constipation. A puts on Irish music and a song about witches to celebrate Halloween, which apparently is just days away. The sugar in the gummy bears tastes sensational. We sit in a circle and share our stories. Everyone has incredible stories, and lil’ ol’ me feels rather boring next to the gypsy living off the grid in California, the former Peace Corps member who lived in West Africa, the chick who used to serve in the Air Force, the lady whose house is being sold during her stay at Kripalu, the woman who studied with a Reiki master in India, the former Seva volunteer who spent time living in New Orleans studying animal acupressure, and the Cornell grad who’s taking a break from her career as an aerialist in Cirque du Soleil. Blah. Wow. Shit. In 45 minutes, we become acquainted. The tribe is strengthening.
Five years ago on this day, 65 Kripalu YTT students stood on our mats inside Shadowbrook and just did our own thing. Our 6:30 a.m. class was termed “personal sadhana,” meaning we were to lead ourselves through our own private practice. Sixty-five of us stood on our mats and breathed, each of us doing a completely different practice. Some started with Breath of Joy, some with hara breaths, some kapalabhati. M did a headstand; a threesome in front went into kapotasana all together, and the girl next to me did a vigorous ashtanga practice.
I started off slow, physically and mentally. Tired. Stiff. Slow. I did several pratapana exercises, but I couldn’t break into my own rhythm. I kept thinking as though I were leading a class–what would I do next? What should follow this, and how do I get there? It was hard not to look around and see what others were doing. Being next to M was good, a challenge, because she was doing the primary series. I kept thinking, “I can do that! I can do padagusthasana and marichyasana A, B, C, D…I can do that, too!” But I didn’t want to do those things then and there. I was tired and stiff and still waking up. I liked my own pace. But..but…I can do that, too! I can do bakasana, seriously! I just don’t want to do it now.
It took time, but I finally found my flow, probably when I did a downdog into low lunge. I lifted my arms in my dancer-like fashion, and finally I felt free. But I learned it’s hard for me to be me. I always have the desire to be someone else. But for the final 30-40 minutes of class, I finally found me. She felt good. I felt good. Hot. Tapas. Me.
***
Expansive. That is the word S uses to describe the outdoors, the vast land of cool air, fiery colors, dark heavy clouds, and sunlight that greets us like a living painting every morning after sadhana. You walk outside the Shadowbrook studio and see it–the outside–right in front of you. It’s hard to just ignore the glass doors and bypass it. Many of us flock outside the minute we put on our shoes at 8:01 or 8:05. We come from a warm, insulated cocoon to this amazing, breathing, revitalizing environment–expansive.
There is a world outside of here–trees glowing from the sun’s peeking smile, a shimmering lake, rolling clouds that look like they could bring rain any minute. We stand there en masse, soaking it in. Breathing it in, even if it stings our lungs. J emerges from inside and yells, “Good morning, Kripalu!!” except with his accent, it comes out Crip-a-loo. It’s daring to be so “loud” outside, but we all smile at his enthusiasm.
***
The morning lesson is focused on anatomy, tendons and ligaments and nerve versus muscular tension. “The word pain is like the word snowflake,” Rudy says. “There are so many kinds of them.” I learn that the anatomical name for our butt (sitz) bones is ischial tuberosities. We review the six movements of the spine. We go over some pratapana (warm-up) exercises and then at the end of class pair up with a partner and lead them through some pratapana, our first stab at practice teaching. Mine does not go so well.
I need to stop acting like someone else and start being me, I write in my journal. I led the practice teach like [one of my yoga teachers from home], like someone I’m not. I need to be me. Stop copying. Stop being uncomfortable in your own skin.
***
The afternoon lesson is centered around the warrior postures, and we break down every move step by step. Tuck tailbone under. Lightly draw in abdomen. Core stabilization.
***
Our afternoon sadhana is led by Grace, and she uses lots of analogies from nature to guide us through the class. During vrksasana, we move our hands through the chakras, starting at the root with our hands in prayer and rising up slowly to our temples. I experience a very powerful, intense energetic reaction to this deliberate movement. This is what many YTTers label as “a Kripalu moment”:
Vibrating right leg–tingling, shaking, throbbing with energy and vitality. This needs to get out! I’m feeling every hair on my arm and chest tingle, rise, like static electricity, like there is a magnet above me. Every single hair, follicle, tingling–the sensation is overwhelming. So much feeling up my arms, rising energy, rising like the tree. Arms danced, fluid, drawn by an aura of energy and color around me, magnet, heavy light heat, hot, hot, palms sweating, heat.
In savasana, feeling the release, the blanket against every body part–soft, comforting, nurturing blanket. Comfort, support, love. Cry, cry, cry. Sitting up in sukhasana, trembling, needed more release, insulation, hug. I feel a gentle, loving touch on my right thigh, like a grandmother’s touch. Lose it. Cry. Blanket. Still trembling on my right, hence the sloppy writing. [Author’s note: My handwriting was awful at this point in the journal entry.]
After class, I find out that three other girls experienced the tingly arm hair thing, too. Grace attributes it to the mega-release of energy we were building up during our opening hara exercises.
***
Namaste: I bow to the light and the shadow within you (because darkness is as important as the light).
Five years ago on this day, I woke up for a 6:30 a.m. yoga class led by one of our Kripalu YTT assistants, Roger.
Silly Roger, with the braids
He’s on the silly side, and during spinal rocks along the floor, he tells us, “[This movement] is only called ‘advanced’ because you have to have the mentality of a 5-year-old.” Another quote that makes us chuckle: “Lift your front toes…(pauses)…as opposed to your back toes, that is.” Roger shares some yoga wisdom with us:
• “We tend to tell ourselves that standing on one leg is natural, the easiest thing to do…. When you fall out of a balance posture, explore. Go into a different pose before coming back into balance.”
• Instead of hold utkatasana in its normal form, we do the “utkatasana dance,” holding the intense leg posture but being free in the upper body, moving freely, dancing the arms. It gives the pose a paradoxical feel: the intense, demanding base, but liquid, flowing upper body.
• “Blossom the buttocks” during downdog.
***
Morning. Outside is gorgeous. I feel like I’m in another country. How can I go back home, to light pollution, suburban sprawl, theft, crime, hatred, paranoia? Kripalu is starting the reversal of the mental asylum. The people here aren’t mental–we’re sharing, kind, conservative, conscious, honest, compassionate, yet we’re the ones locked inside this former monastery. The NEW mental asylum is the one OUTSIDE, on the streets, the people outside our enclosed little world. Yes, we’re shuffling around in slippers and wearing our little nametags, but we’re not insane. We’re sane, lucid, in touch with ourselves and others.
Breakfast, to the sounds of Barber’s Adagio for Strings. Cereal with walnuts, raisins, and banana; frittata with broccoli, spinach, cheese, egg, potato. Brown rice. Raspberry gluten-free cake.
***
We chant Ganesha Sharanam, “I bow to the remover of obstacles.”
Ganesh, remover of obstacles
We move from slow to fast to hyper to slower to slow and then to profound. After the smiling and laughing, we put on blindfolds and explore our “sacred space,” walking through the room, using only touch to lead us past our classmates. We reach out for the first person we feel, and then we talk with our hands. So intimate, such an experiment in touch as a tool, learning when to touch longer and deeper, when to withdrawal and pull back, determining whether the person responds with “invitation or aversion.”
***
At night, we do japa meditation with our mala beads. Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya. I honor/make myself receptive to light/great spirit. 108 times.
***
Our teachers demonstrate a Stage 3 posture flow. It is too intimate for words. At times, I feel like I am invading someone’s privacy. It’s sensual, sexual, almost. I watch the loss of control into ecstasy. I cannot write. I cannot sit here like a news reporter and take notes on such a sacred and profane moment. I watched Megha, Rudy, Jurian, and Roger in their posture flow and was nearly moved to tears. It was like watching someone make love. At times I had to look away because I didn’t want to intrude on such a private moment.
When I do the posture flow, I am somewhat inhibited. I allow myself to listen to my body, but I know there is still resistance, the need for others’ approval. Before I even started my own posture flow, I had the intention of pleasing the teachers. So I ended up doing the flow at 98%, doing what my body prompted me to do, but also 2% aware that others were watching and that I had to be conscious of performing for them in the process. However, my experience was exhilarating. I remember lunging into a low warrior–very deep–and doing something cool with my arms. I remember forgetting.
When I finish the flow and become still, something hits me. I feel alone, like a spotlight is shining only on me.
A bit of a background first: Ever since I came here, I’ve had very vivid images dance in my head when I close my eyes. For example, when in a flowing posture, like standing forward bend or bridge, I’d close my eyes and see random snapshots of people–all Kripalu people. I’ll close my eyes at night or during savasana and see quick flashes of people in bandanas, people with shawls, smiling, happy, introspective, compassionate Kripalu people, like I’m looking in a photo album (in fast forward) of all the residents here. However, there are times (usually during chanting, centering, pranayama, and sometimes during certain poses) that I close my eyes and see us all as a unified group. Amazingly synchronized. Holding hands, or arms raised, our mouths open in Om. I see our group, our tribe, together. So tight, as One.
So, that said, at the conclusion of the posture flow, I was aware that I had cheated myself out of the full experience. But my wisdom reminded me of my mistake, because as I rolled up into thunderbolt pose and sat to integrate the moment, a new image came to my head. I didn’t see the group so beautiful as a whole. I didn’t see random Kripalu faces. I suddenly saw (mostly felt, though) ME and only me. My vision was this:
Me in the Shadowbrook studio, under a harsh spotlight, everyone else lost in the shadows, not even there. The perimeter was dark, shadows, cold, and then me, under this judging light. I tried to push it away at first (I wanted my group!), but I Watched and Allowed and explored. The image stayed with me, and suddenly the feeling hit me: You need to work for yourself. You need to stop performing, being on stage. Stop working for approval.
I started to cry lightly. I put my hands to my face and cried more. I went into child’s pose and sobbed. The group chanted Om three times and I sobbed more and more, audible now. Tissue-needing crying. The sound comforted me; it helped me. I saw warm light, a pulsing “movement”in my head. It felt very warm and nice. I felt like everyone was Om’ing just for me. Stop performing. Start being, Jen.
***
J and I were co-listening partners. We were both moved and crying. J talked first about her experiences, and I was not a very neutral listener. I kept crying and wanted to reach out and hug her. When I spoke to J, although internally my feelings were muddled, I spoke very clearly about my experiences. So cathartic. We shared a long, deep hug afterward. (However, now I’m wondering whether the vision I had was a positive one, maybe affirming that my posture flow was for myself and not a group act. Is that why the group vanished? Was my flow an act/show, or a breakthrough?)
***
We all observe that we smell like food all the time. The cafeteria is everywhere, in our hair, on our shirts, in our pants. We are frittatas, we are miso soup and tofu. We are bloated and gassy. Whole grains and roughage and legumes have made us heavy and uncomfortable. We hurt during twists. We are afraid to fart when our classmates faces’ are inches from out butts.
Five years ago on this day, I woke up on the bottom bunk inside a dormitory made for 20.
I had gone to bed around 11 the night before, after showering. There is a girl in the program, M, who’s a “star newbie” like me. She was so upset and broke down in the bathroom. Another girl, a volunteer at Kripalu, stood there on the tiles, barefoot, comforting M, explaining that this is a safe zone, that it’s OK to cry here. I tried to help M too, but in fact I am also petrified. One month.
Everyone’s personal alarm clocks broke the silence of the early morning, going off at 5:30, 5:32, 5:40. Morning sadhana starts in the pre-dawn dark, with hip openers, spinal twists. So easy and so refreshing. When we emerge from savasana the sun is dawning and filling Shadowbrook with a natural light. We Om three times, and that was exhilarating.
***
Breakfast is eaten in silence, just classical music playing softly, and cling-clang of the silverware and dishes. I eat millet cereal with walnuts, raisins, rice milk. Green tea, fake coffee, brown rice, a hard-boiled egg. No one to chit-chat with; just time to collect my thoughts. I’m not quite at home yet, but they’re making it easy.
***
After eating, I see the outside for the first time since arriving yesterday afternoon. Cold, clear, clouds swirling over the mountains. Falls colors everywhere. I smile.
The second I open that glass door and feel that air on my face, see those clouds, I smile. It’s OK to smile here. Smile, cry, hug…it’s all welcome.
Our first morning session. In my journal, (Author’s Note: after a now-forgotten prompt) I write:
Connection. Guidance. Wholeness. Clarity. Real self. No false self. Clear. Wisdom. Outreach. Compassion. For myself and others. No cobwebs of embarrassment, shame, guilt. Just clear me.
We dance to warm up. We do the Shiva dance, shake our butts. There is noise. Sound. Smiling!
***
Lunch is coconut milk and yam soup, stir fry, brown rice, sesame ginger tofu. So filling, hearty, made with love. I dunk my instant Folgers bag in a cup of hot water.
***
Outside, it is cold. Very cold. The rain that falls feels almost like sleet. But the colors! It’s a painting. The whole mountain to our right is a painting of orange and yellow. It’s so still. The wind makes the canopy above me flap. The little birds gather on the wrought-iron trellis.
Being comfortable is essential, encouraged here. Get a blanket. Or two. Sit on a blanket. Wrap a blanket around you. Wiggle. Squirm. Stretch. Shift your legs. Get up and shake it out.
***
(Author’s note. Intense post-meditation writing follows.) Afternoon sadhana. Each time we chant Om or bow to each other and say Jai Bhagwan, it’s more spiritual, deeper, profound. I am on the edge of bawling right now, the effect of a fiery, vigorous, Stage 3-infused sadhana followed by a lengthy, warm, deep savasana. I lay there with a cushion under my knees, a blanket draped over my entire body, and I felt take care of, like I was in a hospital. This is a hospital. Soul doctors. Doctors of soul.
I envision so many people during meditation, various poses and dances and faces and our entire group moving in and out of postures. I saw this group as One, this tribe they speak of. I didn’t see abilities or personalities, just a massive collection of power, all of us together as One. It was beautiful, a once-scrambled jigsaw puzzle finally complete and together, interlocked. Side by side. No longer individual pieces, just a beautiful creation–a flower, Big Ben, Mickey Mouse, whatever. We were finally One. No pieces missing.
***
Dinner is lentil soup, vegetarian lasagna, butternut squash, green beans, cauliflower, garlic bread. I sit with M and S. We talk about mountains and children’s and senior yoga.
Five years ago on this day, I packed a month’s worth of black yoga pants, long-sleeved tees, and sports bras and headed to the Berkshires in Massachusetts for the Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health’s 200-hour yoga teacher training monthlong intensive.
I had been counting down the days until Bryan and I took off for the 4.5-hour car ride from New Jersey, eager to spend my mornings and nights om’ing and downdogging. I sat nervously in the car as we headed north, the trees along the highway getting thinner and more bare, the bright and fiery red, orange, and yellow leaves gradually shifting into more browns and naked branches as approached the Massachusetts state line. Every time we stopped the car to stretch our legs, the air that hit our face felt cooler than it did at the last stop.
When we finally pulled into the parking lot in front of Kripalu’s main building, I burst into tears and sob into Bryan’s sweatshirt, feeling like a youngster being dropped off for her first day of kindergarten.
When I check in, I get a nametag that has a star on it. I later find out the star designates me as a “newbie,” someone who’s never been to Kripalu before. Those without stars are like the 6th graders of elementary school. The do not cry when they walk into the lobby for the first time, and they walk around campus with their heads high, secure, smiling. They are adjusted. I only know one other person here, but not very closely. When Bryan leaves to head back home, I feel utterly and completely alone and begin to regret my decision to stay here for a month.
***
It’s a bit like college at Kripalu, I notice. People walk around in slippers, barefoot, wearing robes, shawls, dreadlocks, bandanas, do-rags. Our dorm door does not lock, everything is Open. People leave their yoga mat, shoes, whatever outside the rooms and alongside their bed without fear of it being stolen. It’s safe here.
At 4:15, I take a gentle yoga class with Evelyn. She reiterates the obvious, in a good way. I am speaking. There is noise below us. The heat is coming out of the vents. The soft music is playing. You are here.
You.Are.Here.
I come in and out of crying. I close my eyes for the first half of class and realize I am trying to hide the fact that I’m here, away from home. When I first open my eyes and see the ceiling, the giant stained glass Om symbol, I am lost, scared. By the end of savasana, however, the lost feeling is slowly fading.
***
Cell phones are not permitted in Kripalu’s common areas, and I must use the luggage room to call Bryan. I am told there is a lights-out rule in the dorm rooms by 10 p.m. Crazy rules that would seem absurd at home are completely reasonable here.
***
Tension. I am still scared, even after gentle yoga and talking with Bryan. My jaw is tight, my eyes burn with residual tears, I cannot relax. Every moment is awkward, from figuring out when I should shower, where to get coffee, when to use the gym.
Dinner that night is warm and nourishing. Country fried tofu, salad, mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, organic bread, soup, orange juice.
***
The training program officially begins that night, after dinner. Our facilitators are Megha (vibrant! energetic! bold!) and Rudy (soft, subtle, gentle). We sit in a circle, say our names, where we’re from, and three words. Jennifer, New Jersey, Breathe, Dance, Release.
We got to a personal altar that has been set up for us, where there is a candle, training manual, mala beads, and a card with a yoga posture on it. I am parighasana (gate). We reflect on what yoga means to us. We write it down:
Light! I am illuminated from the inside out–I can dance without inhibition. An energy that was once dormant is able to run through my blood, my veins, and out through my heart, arms, and legs. Peace! I don’t get angry so quickly. I respect others’ feelings and opinions. I am drawn to the human race. I feel we are one.
And then we chant, about inquiry. Atha Yoga Nushasanam. We do this in three circles, gradually. Walking in closer and closer. The sound is amazing. We are a choir. It gets louder and stronger as we come closer. I feel like crying, it’s so beautiful! We Om three times, stronger each time. Some people harmonize. Instant peace. I find myself smiling like a goofball, so awe-inspired, filled, in love with everyone around me. We make eye contact with our classmates and there is joy in everyone’s eyes.
We flow from goddess, warrior I, warrior II, reverse warrior, extended side angle, back to warrior I to music of chanting. The flow is alive. I am smiling!
Our assistants are Jurian, Roger, Leila, and Helga. They tell us over and over again that they are here for us, the wind beneath our wings. I feel so encouraged. No one is trying to trick us, play with our minds. Honest, caring, open, trusting.
***
It’s nearly 10 p.m., and I am emotionally drained. This is my bed for the next month:
This past year I’ve really struggled with establishing a solid morning routine. Between waking up and leaving the house for work–with a shower/hair/makeup routine somewhere in the middle–I’ve experimented with doing hip-strengthening PT exercises, practicing therapeutic yoga DVDs, sitting in meditation for at least 10 minutes, committing to 10 sun salutations (5 A, 5 B), reading books while walking around the park, meditating with alternating mudras, and dancing around the living room in my pajamas.
Regardless of which activity I choose, the key is that I warm up as soon as I wake up. Even on my wedding day more than 7 years ago, I woke up at 6 a.m. and, before I headed off to the hairdresser, rolled around in my underwear, stretching and loosening up my limbs. I don’t consider myself “creaky” yet, but as I move into my 30s I am more aware of that car-in-the-winter feel that sets in overnight. Starting a day without stretching is like heading off to work without brushing my teeth–terribly icky and not recommended.
After doing the Kripalu yoga video the other day and being reacquainted with pratapana (Kripalu’s version of “warming up”), I was also reminded about the importance of going through the 6 movements of the spine before engaging in any other movement. The spine is that what holds us all together, and giving it the proper warm up will enable all other limbs to kick in gear.
The great thing about these movements is that they can be adapted for people comfortable being on the floor, those who wish to stay seated, and for others who prefer standing. Whatever variation I choose, I do about 5 to 10 of each movement.
Seated variation (can be done in easy/hero pose or in a sturdy chair)
Part A. Extension/flexion
Spinal extension
Spinal flexion
Part B. Lateral (side-to-side) movement
A beautiful C to one side...
...and on the other.
Part C. Twists
Wring it out, like a wet sponge!
Other side, different angle (from which you can see the severity of my hypermobile elbow joints).
Floor variation (for those comfortable on hands and knees)
Part A. Extension/flexion
The well-known "cat" pose
...followed by dog/cow pose.
Part B. Lateral movement
Keeping the spine in one plane, curve head, shoulders, spine, and hips into a "C" on one side
...and then the other. Try not to raise the head to look back at hips.
Part C. Twists
Slide arm under chest while turning head in that direction. No need to settle in this warm-up; I just let my head tap the floor and draw up to move to other side.
Be sure to keep hips over knees!
Standing variation (great for adding hara breaths)
Part A. Extension/flexion
Extend up to sky, slight backbend, chest lifted. (inhale)
Drop down, swinging arms behind hips. Give a big sigh on the descent! (exhale-HA!)
Part B. Lateral movement
Bend to one side, letting that arms slide down leg. Draw other arm up to armpit, like a monkey. Hara breath can be done during the drop; inhale while drawing back up to center.
Increase the speed/breath to create more heat.
Part C. Twists
Imagine your arms are empty coatsleeves. Gently swing them back and forth as you twist side to side, one wrapping in front of body, the other behind. Exhale HA! at final point of twist; inhale while swinging back through center.
I always picture myself as a washing machine agitator during this movement.
Since last week, I’ve been mindful of starting each morning with those 6 movements, and the end results feel pretty darn good. Most mornings I do all three sets, starting with the floor exercises and working my way up to standing. Incorporating the deep hara breaths really gets things warmed up and opens up my chest, throat, nose, and mouth, clearing the path for the pranayama practice that follows. The spinal movements open up the space between each vertabra, thus opening the pathways for greater energy/prana flow.
I’ll show you the remainder of my morning routine in a future post. Until then, remember to brush your teeth, wash your face, and move your spine!
My coworker/5Rhythms classmate left yesterday for a yoga nidra workshop at Kripalu. A whole week of savasana…now that’s a relaxing retreat!
Instead of being insanely jealous about her vacation, I decided to bring a little bit of Kripalu into my own Sunday morning. About a week ago, Kripalu uploaded a video of a full-length moderate yoga class to its YouTube channel. This was a wonderful surprise, because up until then most of the videos were just short yoga breaks or interviews with staff/experts. This class was an hour long; led by one of Kripalu’s leading men, Devarshi (Steven Hartman); and had all the elements of an authentic Kripalu yoga class offered at the actual center. I spread out my yoga mat on the living room floor, opened the blinds to let in the sunlight, and began.
The class started with one of my favorite pranayama exercises: alternate nostril breath. Sadly, not many classes I attend at home dedicate time solely to breathwork, so I was thrilled to sit and focus on my inhalations and exhalations. I honestly believe that starting practice with focused breathing brings everything to center and really gets the mind, body, and spirit connected before moving on. I don’t think I’ve ever attended a Kripalu yoga class that doesn’t start with pranayama, and some end with it as well!
Many of the pratapana (warm-up) movements involved hara breaths, which means taking deep inhalations through the nose and strong, forceful exhalations through the mouth, while saying “Ha!” We did this during the “empty coat sleeves” twist, monkey arms side bends, and while sweeping the arms overhead (inhale) and then collapsing down (Ha!). The breath, the vocals, and the invigorating movement warmed me up instantaneously, and I felt a nice, warm juiced-up vibe flowing within me. At one point, I even remember thinking, “Man, I feel good!”
Another Kripalu trademark is long posture holds, which made its appearance during a simple standing position. Devarshi instructed us to hold our arms to the side in a T, palms facing out. Sounds simple, right? But then we held it. And held it. And continued holding our arms out. We made small circles going one way. Small circle in the other direction. Devarshi encouraged us to think positive thoughts (“My arms are strong!”) rather than the negative thoughts that first come to mind (“This is haarrrrddd!”). We breathed through it, relaxing and smiling into the stretch. There is such a fine line between wanting to give up and finally getting over that mental block of a hump and being OK with the warm sensations running through the chest, shoulders, arms, and hands, maybe actually enjoying it.
One of my favorite postures of the practice turned out to be one of most dreaded poses: utkatasana, chair pose. But the way Devarshi eased us into it–first just a slight bend at the knee, add a little bounce, arms loose, wrists relaxed–felt natural and tolerable. The best part was when he adding a little “snap” to the pose, guiding us to snap our fingers and sway our hips side to side, like a number in a Bob Fosse show. Holy crap, was I actually enjoying this rather long hold of utkatasana?!
There were no fancy poses, not even a single downdog, but the sequencing, languaging, and contemplative/meditative nature of the Kripalu practice made me remember why I trained in this style in the first place and that a yoga practice doesn’t need 25 sun salutations to feel “real.” After savasana, an om, and a triple shanti, Devarshi closed the class with a “jai bhagwan,” which totally brought a smile to my lips because it reminded me of every single yoga class at Kripalu, where “jai bhagwan” totally trumps “namaste.”
So if you’re ever stuck at home and don’t have time for a studio class, I wholeheartedly recommended this little gem of a YouTube video, especially if you’re familiar with the Kripalu style or curious about what a typical Kripalu class is like. The only thing missing was being able to roll up my mat; step outside for a deep breath of that cool, crisp Berkshire Mountain air; and enjoy my silent breakfast surrounded by other blissed-out yogis.
Instead, I poured my morning coffee in the black Kripalu mug that got me through all 28 days of training and enjoyed my breakfast next to the sunflowers from this weekend’s farmers market. Not quite a mountain retreat but I felt just a little closer to home.
Flowtation Devices 