I’ve been practicing yoga for almost five years. I believe they call it “practice” because you never reach perfection, but the continuous strive for enlightenment and self-awareness. Or, at the very least, the ability to calm your ass down when you want to strangle the shit out of someone.
I became interested in yoga when I was around 32. I took some beginner classes at a few local studios to see what it was all about. I wanted to try something that would help with my overall flexibility and maybe assist in tempering my impatience. I went to one studio near where I lived for about six or so months. I took a beginner class in Ashtanga yoga, which is a bit more aerobic. I learned some poses and series of salutations, and it was a good workout but I never truly felt any inward connection with myself. My mind never really turned off. I also felt as if I was often being judged for my lack of flexibility or ability to attain proper form in some of the poses. Keep in mind this was a beginner class, but it became apparent that a lot of my regular classmates had taken this particular course before. They “mastered” the beginner shit and kept taking it because it was the only course they could attend and feel masterful, artful, or superior in their matching Calvin Klein yoga gear.
In short they were a bunch of poser douchebags.
I took a class a here or there, bought and read a few books on different practices and schools of thought, trying to find the yogic form that suited me. My friend and colleague, Nate, then invited me to visit his studio. So I went.
Nate is a fantastic human being. He is funny, thoughtful, forward thinking and about as easy on the eyes as any man can get. He helped change my life and I’m sure he never even realized it.
My first class with Nate was difficult. Although I went in feeling a bit intimidated, (as he is in amazing shape and moves with almost flawless grace), I was immediately at ease with the temperament and mood he set for the class. Many things Nate recited to us during that class, and every one after, I say to myself everyday now. The environment in which Nate taught yoga was one of safety. That hour was about the individual student experience and nothing else. During those classes I learned to judge myself less and be thankful towards myself more. I was just finally feeling like I was finding my way in the world of yoga. Then I had the stroke.
It was hard to fathom doing anything when I was bedridden at home and couldn’t really walk or move much. But I longed to do yoga. In my head I imagined doing poses I’d never even tried. I found myself going from fantasizing about my yoga body to becoming sad and frustrated at the body I was actually lying in.
Nate and his wife Melanie were among the few people that I allowed to visit while I was still bedridden. Mel was a nurse so she knew how fucked up I actually was at the time. When they visited I expressed my frustration at not being able to move. Nate calmly told me to breathe. Visualize and meditate. Inhaling cool, clean air and exhaling the toxins and clots out of my brain. He told me to imagine the clots getting smaller and dissipating with each exhalation. At first I was like “yeah whatever” in my mind. But after actually giving it a try, I became calmer. I was able to see myself well. I was able to see a clean brain with no scarring, no clotting, no damage from this ordeal. I’d lay in bed everyday after Nate’s visit and visualized. I think I actually dreamt of these visualizations while I slept. The ability to calm myself through the intent of my breath was something that stayed with me through my recovery and still does to this day.
After several months of physical restrictions, my doc gave me the “Ok” to incorporate activity. Yoga was my first attempt back in the saddle of maneuvering my body post rehab. So very carefully yet joyfully, back to Nate’s class I went.
I was exited to be among the moving. Not the living, the moving. Everyone always says how lucky I am to be alive. I always add to that “And mobile!” Alive and mobile. For me alive wouldn’t really be alive if I was trapped in a body that I couldn’t move. I remembered going to my one-year follow up MRI. It was at the neurosciences outpatient facility. I sat in that waiting room and fought back tears. I was the only patient there who was not wheelchair bound. I did not need the assistance of anything to breathe. I could move my own limbs. I knew there was nothing other than sheer luck of the draw that I could. The only thought in my mind that entire time was, “Any one of these people could’ve been me”.
It was at that same outpatient facility, a few weeks later, I was told I was clean. Not only was my scan clean, but my brain tissue had no evidence of trauma. None. My neurologist had two other docs look at it to see if they could tell what had happened to me. They couldn’t. They in fact found it hard to believe that I’d had any clotting or trauma at all. My brain looked as if it was completely normal and healthy. No issues, no traces of anything it had endured.
I, to this day, believe I breathed all that away.
Back at yoga class I struggled. I’d lost the little bit of ground I had conquered with my practice. It was as if my body had no idea what I was trying to have it do. I went to class pretty faithfully three, sometimes four times, a week. After a few months I felt like I was changing. I was self-correcting postures, looking for, and receiving, feedback from Nate and my more seasoned classmates. Then one class it happened. I had the break.
I’ve learned yoga is very powerful in how it can get you in touch with your inner self. Your body and mind meet through the observation of your breath and when that happens, you can emote in ways you never imagined, over things you never thought that important.
One pose I always struggled with, and still do most days is, Bandhasana, Bridge Pose. When done in its true form its basically a full back bend. I can’t do a backbend. Never really could. It takes flexibility in the arms but most importantly, as most yoga poses do, it takes core strength to get your body up and steady. Anyone that’s seen me try to do Bandhasana can tell I struggle. Even with the modified version where I just lift my hips, poses difficulty for me. On this day class was winding down and we were working our way into Bandhasana before relaxation began. I sometimes made an effort to get into the full pose but never did. This day I had a really good class and was feeling especially strong. So I though, “what the hell, try”. I placed my hands backwards above my head on the floor and hoisted my hips upwards towards the ceiling pushing with my hands and arms. With one strong push I felt my spinal column spread and my head gently fell back as I lifted the weight of my body upward into a full backbend. I think it took me a second or two to realize I was actually there. I remember whispering to myself “yes”. Before I could release the pose this wave of emotion fell over me and I began to sob uncontrollably. I had never felt such gratitude for anything as I had at that moment. I was so grateful for my body and its ability to heal that I was overwhelmed. I cried. And cried. And cried. I cried through the rest of practice. I cried through relaxation. I cried the entire drive home.
Nate saw what I had done and gently walked over and handed me a tissue. My tears were not an embarrassment or even a distraction. It was simply part of my yoga experience. Everyone there respected that and Nate had encouraged and nurtured it. A few months after that experience I felt confident and excited enough to do Nate’s Yoga Boot Camp. Yes, it was as brutal as it sounds. But I did it every class, three times a week for six weeks. And I am better woman for it.
Although I am no longer a regular student of Nate, everything he taught me has stayed with me. I have become much kinder to myself as I continually explore my practice.
I recently overcame a fear. I have always aspired to do inversions (poses that are upside down in one way or another). I have done a few, like plow, which is where you lift your legs back over your head and touch your toes to the floor behind you (laying down of course). But I wanted to explore a real inversion. I wanted to do a headstand.
So over the past few weeks I have tried to do a headstand against the wall without assistance. Kicking myself up against the wall isn’t hard now that I can do it, but the fear that lingered in my head kept stopping me. It wasn’t the fear of falling or the fear of breaking my damn neck. It was the fear of that feeling of blood rushing to my head. The thought of blood pooling in my head frightened me. Although I knew better, that thought paralyzed my mind in allowing me to trust myself and embrace the progression of my practice.
I had been so enamored with headstands that I found myself dreaming about doing them. I dreamt I was doing freestanding headstands in the middle of a field. I had this dream three consecutive nights last week. I finally awoke on the third day and felt the overwhelming need to try. It was as if my mind was telling me through my dreams that I could do it and I needed to stop psyching myself out.
I emerged energetically from bed and positioned my hands over my head while on my forearms facing the bedroom wall. I then, without even thinking, kicked my feet up as if hands were going to emerge from the wall and catch my heels. My heels met the wall and I held them still. Settling my core into an almost comfortable position so I could adjust my forearms, I stayed there about fifteen seconds. In those fifteen seconds, upside down, naked, my head on the ground and heels against my bedroom wall, I experienced that wave of gratitude once again. However this time I did not cry. I laughed. I smile each time I do this pose against the wall. I am now working on moving away from the wall one inch at a time. I hope to be able to rise into a freestanding inversion before the end of the year.
Yoga has brought me a wonderful exploration of self. I aspire to teach and impact others the way Nate has taught, nurtured and impacted me. I want to show others how yoga can change how they view themselves and their abilities. Yoga has taught me to be brave with myself. It has given me permission to try. It makes me forgive myself when I fail. In great part, because of my yoga practice, I will always be grateful for the body I have, mindful of my capacities, and accepting of the woman I am continuously becoming.
Namaste.
