“Hard Work Is Fun” Practice

This is another asana sequence I put together for my after-school group, who tend to be mostly able-bodied (at least, they don’t disclose any conditions or concerns to me when I ask privately — but then, I don’t always disclose to my teachers, either) but who encompass a variety of strength, flexibility, and cardiovascular endurance levels (some are out-of-season athletes using yoga in their conditioning plan, some consider themselves active but not athletic, some report that they get little to no exercise outside of these yoga sessions). I tried to put together a series that would be both challenging and accessible to these various groups of students.

And, well, also to make it fun. We’ve spent some of the last few classes building muscle memory for some frequently used poses (think: those commonly used in sun salutes). This is good and useful, of course, but it is also repetitive. And if we don’t take a break from that and try things that are novel and fun, it has the potential to get boring.

In addition to sun salutes, this series incorporates some standing balance elements, some of my favorite backbends, and the beginning of an inversion practice (this one contraindicated for neck or shoulder injuries, but not for other common inversion contraindications).

We do a lot of these poses progressively. That is, I start out with what tends to be the most physically gentle option for a pose; then I move on to a more vigorous option and a still more vigorous option. I remind them frequently — and so I mention it now — that if it feels like a particular variation is their edge, it’s 110% okay to repeat that variation and to not do the more vigorous option(s). And in fact, when we’re looking at something like backbending, that approach may actually be preferable.

Warm Up:

• Because this series includes more backbending than we’ve necessarily done before, I start out with a supported (hands on back of pelvis) standing backbend to look at actions and alignment.
• Then we move into a progressive standing warm-up series: 3 rounds of upward salute, 3 rounds of upward salute to forward fold to half forward fold and back to forward fold, 3 rounds of chair-forward fold-half forward fold–forward fold.

Sun Salutes:

• One warm-up sun salute, where I encourage folks to keep their back knees on the ground in lunges, place knees down for chaturanga, and take cobra instead of upward dog. Just because while we’ve warmed up some of the muscle groups, this is our first pass by some others.
• One sun salute with low lunge options, maybe supporting the pelvis:
  

  This ends up being basically how I have them feel out their first standing backbend as well, with the hands guiding the pelvis into a neutral tilt (which then helps to un-crunchify the low back).

  Other options would include raising the hands to the heart or overhead or maybe starting to bring the upper back into a backbend for crescent lunge:

  

  Even with the knee down, crescent lunge can be a balance challenge.

  We also worked some of these plank crunches into this sun salute, but I always like to think of those as optional.

• One sun salute with high lunges, including any of the arm and torso options above — and always with the option to place the back knee on the ground at any point during the lunge. Because high lunge tends to be a challenging pose for many of my students, in terms of both muscle strength and balance, I kept the plank crunches out of this one — though another person practicing could always opt to put them back in.

One Standing Series:

• We go from chair to forward fold, then into a standing split on one side. During that standing split, I offer the options of keeping both sets of fingertips on the ground, bringing one hand to the standing leg (usually right hand if right leg is on the ground, reverse for left), or bringing both hands to the standing leg. Invariably, students will go until they feel themselves about to topple over, which produces lots of giggles. After coming out of the standing split, we hang out in uttanasana for a couple of breaths, then repeat the chair-uttanasana-standing split sequence on the second side.
• After that, we lower down in to malasana, either supported with hands on the floor or with the hands in namaste and elbows pressing into thighs.We hang out here until everyone’s breathing is more settled, maybe around 5 breaths or so.

Backbends:

• Some locust variations: We do a little bit of exploring what it feels like to lift and lower first just the legs, then just the upper body, and finally, legs and upper body together. After that, we do 6 repetitions in a vinyasa, either alternating legs and upper body or else lifting and lowering both at the same time. If we can, we build to a 5 breath hold on the last repetition (or, you know, holding as many breaths up to 5 as is a good idea for that person).
• Next, some camel options: We do 3 repetitions of camel, holding each for 5 breaths. The first time, we keep the hands supporting the pelvis so that we can revisit actions and alignment. On the second repetition, folks choose to repeat that (or decide they’re done with backbending altogether and take a child’s pose or kneeling shape) or to take the option reaching back for the heels with the toes tucked under (so the heels are maybe 4 or so inches off the ground, depending on the person’s height). Finally the option to repeat any of the above or to reach for the heels with the feet flat on the floor.

Inversion Prep:

• Right now, we’re working up to holding dolphin, which might eventually become headstand prep. (I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel comfortable teaching full headstand.) We actually start on hands and knees with the forearms on the floor (either palms flat or hands clasped, yogi’s choice) and move the torso forward until forehead/eyes come just in front of the hands. (Credit to this video for the idea.) Second option involves lifting the hips into the “standard” option of the pose. Because I’m thinking this is going to start to build inversion strength and awareness, I offer a third option of walking the feet in (I can only do 1-2 steps) so that the torso is moving toward vertical, sort of like a forearm stand prep. We repeated the sequence twice (with the explicit instruction that it was always okay to not take the next option and/or to go back to a previous option): the first time, for 5 breaths in each pose; the second, students took 1 breath in each pose until they came to the most vigorous option they thought they could safely hold for 10 breaths.

Cool Down:

• You may have noticed by now that upavistha konasana is approximately my favorite forward fold ever. We held the upright shape — with hands/fingertips behind the hips — for about 5 breaths before folding forward, letting everybody get a feel for the long spine and open chest that can be a part of the pose. After that, students choose to stay upright or fold forward (however much is right for them), and we hang out for another 10 breaths or so.
• A lying spinal twist. Any of them will work, but we used the one pictured here (the reclined twist, toward the bottom of the post). I think we did something like 10 breaths on each side (well, 10 of my breaths, which may or may not have been 10 of my students’ breaths).
• Savasana. Because that was hard work. And also fun.

All told, this practice takes me about 35-40 minutes (minus savasana) when I’m working on it at home. Instructing to students, about 45.

Everyday Yoga: Cobra

If you’re not sure what this whole Everyday Yoga thing is, you can check out the Everyday Yoga page. For now, cobras!

Well, um, us. In cobra. But you get it.

Tori in low cobra.

This is my cobra, like, 90% of the time I do it. It’s more beneficial to me to lift entirely with strength from my torso (back, abs, pelvis), even if it means staying lower. On the odd occasion that I take a higher cobra, this is what it looks like:

Tori in high cobra.
I do usually look straight ahead, but for some reason, my webcam pictures of those moments are even fuzzier. So.

Laura actually submitted the same two variations of her cobra. First, a more strength-focused one with her hands off the ground:

Laura in low cobra.

And a higher cobra, with more of a flexibility focus:

Laura in high cobra.

And blogromp’s cobra, shared with us via Flickr:

If you’re interested in participating in the next round of Everyday Yoga, there’s a current call for down dog submissions.

A Prone Hamstring Strengthener

Even as I was writing about hamstring strengthening in warrior 1, I was aware that standing poses do not work so well for everybody. When I’m having a serious pain day — you know, as opposed to all the humorous, light-hearted pain days — they’re among the first types of poses I have to set aside. While I am aware that locust pose is still not perfect in this regard, I’m hoping that the variety, at least, will make hamstring strengthening postures more accessible to various people.

Quick hamstring recap: One of the body movement jobs that the hamstrings handle is to extend the thigh back behind the pelvis. This is true of the back leg in warrior one; it is also true of both legs in locust.

Additional note: I am aware that there is also shoulder and back stuff going on when locust uses all four limbs. That’s awesome, it really is, but I’m going to focus on the leg movement here.

[Cathie Ryder instructing for Expert Village. Video via YouTube.]

A couple of points on the hamstring-strengthening, leg-lifting aspect of it:

1. Even though I’m talking about this as a hamstring strengthening pose, there is still lower back work going on here too. Because that has the potential to cause back-crunchy ungoodness, it’s probably important both to be aware of it and to take care of the low back in this pose — even if that means I don’t lift my leg as far.
2. For me, grounding my pelvis — basically, pressing my pubic bone into the floor — is key to lengthening my low back and thus keeping it happy in the pose.
3. If I let my thighs externally rotate — which they naturally want to do because that’s how my particular hip sockets work — my glutes do the lifting work rather than letting the hamstrings take it on. While it’s not necessarily a lot more physical work, I do have to make a conscious mental effort to keep my thighs internally rotated.

Additionally, for some people, lifting both legs at once may not be happening, at least not right now. For anyone who would prefer it, there’s an option to lift one leg at a time. (And to the best of my knowledge, all the practice points from the list above still apply.)

[Video by Esther Ekhart via YouTube.]

Next hip post, I promise to get back to some stretching — and then move on from the hamstrings.

Everyday Yoga Call for Submissions: Cobra

I realize that after all the planking goodness we’re about to experience (tomorrow!), the next logical photo pose post might be one for chaturanga. While I’ll undoubtedly backtrack to it sometime soonish, I’m going to skip it for now — for a couple of reasons:

1. It is still fuck all hot over here, which means my desire to hold total-body strength poses is limited. We just did plank; I need a break.
2. I have a very particular fascination with the different manifestations of cobra.

As this is my blog — and as no one has requested otherwise — I’m going to go with what I want.

Which is, this time, cobra.

The best Creative Commons-friendly cobra picture I can find is this:

Which, that particular expression of the pose would probably not do it for my low back and would definitely not do it for my neck. And that’s part of why I’m so interested in the posture — because I see a lot of individual variation, though I’m not sure how much is according to what people feel versus what look they might be trying to achieve. For me, I know my cobra has evolved over the years according to those two variables.

Some of that variation is nicely evident in these two pose tutorials. (I think the first tutorial is more complete and detailed, but I wanted to include a picture like the one in the second link.)

For folks wanting video:

[Amy Pancake instructing for Expert Village. Video via YouTube.]

Especially if you’re newer to cobra — and maybe even if it’s a pose you’ve been practicing for a while — it might be worth experimenting with different versions of cobra before taking your pic in the one that feels most like you.

If all goes well, cobra submissions will be due September 30, 2012. You can email pics to anytimeyoga@gmail.com.

Playing with My Playlist 4: Adrenaline Rush

Note to self: If I do this before establishing sufficient body reserves (i.e., drinking enough water, eating enough food earlier in the day), this many back bends in a row is a stars-seeing adrenaline rush. (Don’t worry. I noticed that, skipped the last wheel, and was fine.)

[Adi Amar instructing for Yoga Today. Video via YouTube.]

That said, I do love me some backbends.

Belly Shot

This post contains internalized fat bias.

My shoulders and chest have been feeling tight lately, probably due to too much time on the Intarwebs and also due to sleep positioning myself around small dogs. To try to stretch myself out again, I have been taking breaks to do all sorts of shoulder openers, with upward facing table being one that helps me the most.

Well. It helps my chest and shoulders the most. Which is what I want, which is why I do it. But in other areas, the pose is quite uncomfortable for me.

Not physically. I mean, it is stretching my chest and the fronts of my shoulders, which — given their current tightness — can be an intense sensation. But it’s intense in a productive, controlled way. What I’m less in control of is what I see in the pose. When I’m in upward table, my neck prefers that I not drop my head back, so I’m left with a clear, unavoidable, unmistakeable visual shot of my belly.

While I’m learning to be more comfortable with my body, a lot of that comfort is predicated on minimizing — visually and mentally — the parts of my body with which I am uncomfortable and focusing on the parts I actively like. For instance, when I think of my hips and butt — which are really no less broad than my belly — I think of firmness and muscles and strength. The size of my butt may not fall in line with the dominant beauty norm of my culture, but the tone of it certainly does. And it’s easier for me to like my ass because of it. When I think of my belly, though, I think of softness, of terms like pudge and flab. Those are definitely terms that society has categorized as body unfriendly, which means that being comfortable with my belly is harder this way. It has too much negative emotion attached to it, emotion that may not have originally come from me but that I have internalized just the same.

I’ve tried avoiding my mental discomfort with upward table in a number of ways. For a long time, I completely avoided the pose. Bridge, upward plank, and camel are front-of-body stretches with variations that render my view of my belly less… in my face. But none of them get to quite the chest and shoulder area that I’d like stretched. I’ve tried dropping my head back so I wouldn’t have to look at it — again, because maybe my body would behave differently this time? — only to discover that my neck is still having none of that shit.

Finally, I tried closing my eyes. Which, technically, did work with no physical repercussions. However, unlike the other misdirections — and they were misdirections — I could not make up a credible reason why closing my eyes was a necessary portion of the posture. And I could not do it without being acutely aware of the fact that I was closing my eyes for no other reason than to avoid looking at my stomach in this pose. That bothered me more — and in a deeper way — than just looking at my belly in the first place.

At least, I think learning to look at my belly is bothering me less. To be honest, it’s still tough. This isn’t a post that ends with “and then I learned to love my body, so everything is okay.” I do love my body, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some parts that come with negative baggage. I think, though, that the discomfort of actually looking at my belly feels… if not objectively better, at least more productive. Like someday, I’m going to be able to look at my stomach and see… just familiarity. Just, “That’s what I look like.”

Today is not that day. But right now, that discomfort, I can sit with it.

Fat Cow?

In one of my recent personal communications, someone mentioned in passing that cow pose in yoga is sometimes known as “fat cow” pose. I could not detect any ill intent (or sense of irony, for that matter) as the statement was made. It could be true, of course, that this is one conventional interpretation of the pose’s name. I definitely do not know everything about yoga.

However, I remain skeptical:

1. I definitely do not know everything about yoga, but I have been practicing and studying regularly for about 12 years now. In my part of the world, cow is a pretty common asana. If “fat cow” were a common name for it, I think I’d have heard something to that effect before now.
2. I have seen cows. At least to me — someone who’s used to looking at riding horses, who develop a rounded and muscled topline with work — the concave topline of cow pose reminds me of pretty much all cows, not just fat ones. While some Sanskrit terms do add additional modifiers, the asana names I’m familiar with generally do so to distinguish one pose from another, similarly named pose (down dog v. up dog, revolved anything). Therefore, I find it difficult to believe that “fat cow” is a traditional asana name without “skinny cow” also being the same. And, I mean, Skinny Cow is some tasty ice cream product, but I have never been asked to Skinny Cow during yoga.
3. I am all too aware of the derogatory connotations the phrase “fat cow” has in contemporary US society (and possibly elsewhere, but I live here). So while I can’t see why this pose would have been known as “fat cow” for decades or longer, I can see a reason for using the phrase “fat cow” to describe something now — only that reason is not a nice one. Moreover, the person from whom I heard this has some “must not gain weight” anxieties of their own, so I can envision situations where they might have heard it and picked up on it sans unpacking.

Also, when I Googled “yoga fat cow,” there was nothing relevant on the first page of results. If I have to go to page 2 of a Google search to find something, that just screams “sketchy.”

So, crowdsourcing on this: Anyone know if “fat cow” is a legit, neutrally descriptive yoga thing?

Hip Yoga: Wild Thing, the Easy Way

It doesn’t quite feel easier to me yet since I’ve been practicing it the hard way for about 10 years. It’s also worth noting that not everyone shares my fear of the drop back in the down dog version and that this version does require a person to have a solid handle on the balance in side plank. So this idea of it being the “easy way” is relatively subjective. Still, I can explain this entry in far fewer steps, which does lots to make it easier in my mind.

Second Obligatory Disclaimer: Not a yoga teacher. Not professional advice. Use your own best judgment when deciding if this looks like a good idea for you.

Wild Thing — The Easy Way (from Side Plank):

1. I start in side plank.

   

   I stack my feet because that’s just what I do naturally in side plank. However, it should also work just as well with this foot variation. And while I suspect it would be trickier to manage with either of the knees down variations of side plank, I also think it would be do-able — but would want to play around with that myself before I said so for sure.

2. Then I drop the top foot behind me and square my hips to the ceiling.

   

   For versions of side plank where there’s more a “font foot” and “back foot,” it’s the front foot that steps behind.

3. Angling my tailbone forward to keep my low back from crunching, I press my hips to the ceiling.

   

   I’m pretty sure that the reason I’m only on the ball of my foot here is because I landed with my back leg further under me than I do when I flip from down dog. It actually makes it easier to stretch out the more stationary leg but not so good for placing the whole foot on the ground without pinching my back. I know that the reason my free arm isn’t stretched as far as it was in the first version is because the TV stand — out of the camera shot — is in my way.

Even though I keep lamenting the fact that I didn’t know about this “easy way” until relatively recently, I think it’s probably good that I spent so long learning and practicing wild thing from down dog. Because while not seeing where I’m going to land makes me a little anxious, it is still a controlled risk. And taking conscious, controlled risk helps me learn how to cope with the negative emotions that arise from it.

Still and all, in my small home practice space, there’s just more room to do it this way.

Hip Yoga: Wild Thing, the Hard Way

I’ve been avoiding writing this post because I know other people have written about the same pose relatively recently.

I’ve been avoiding writing this post because, when it comes to this pose, I’m not sure I’m qualified to explain. Then again, when it comes to asana, I’m not technically qualified to explain most of what I write. So I’m not sure why that should bother me now.

I’ve been avoiding writing this post because I’m not sure what I want to say. Needing to think carefully is sometimes an uncomfortable feeling. It is summer vacation, after all.

To recap, I’ve been looking at the psoas for the last several hip posts. The progression has basically looked like this:

• A quick anatomy rundown.
• A pose that stretched the psoas that would also be suitable for most people to do relatively early in their practices.
• A pose to bring heat to and strengthen the hip flexors.

Ideally, I’d find one last pose that stretches the hip flexors more deeply and that would be suitable for later during a sequence. Only, I wanted to make sure it was a pose I hadn’t detailed before (maybe ruling out camel and bridge) as well as one that would be accessible to a fair number of people (maybe ruling out hanumanasana and some of the pigeon variations I use).

I spent a lot of time wandering aimlessly through books and sites of asanas before I was re-introduced to wild thing. (Please note: If you are like me, you will now hear this song in your head any time someone mentions the pose, even if they call it by one of its other names — camatkarasana or flip the dog.) I hesitated at first because the way I learned to enter wild thing was by flipping down dog, which involves a mental leap of faith and good physical control of the low back.

Then I discovered: There is another way to enter wild thing — from side plank. All these years, I had been doing it the hard way**.

Obligatory Disclaimer: While this is me breaking down and explaining this asana to the best of my ability: 1) I am not a certified yoga teacher, and this is not professional advice; 2) I am not in the same room with you to check in. If wild thing is not already in your practice, you will want to use your own best judgment and/or consult a knowledgeable teacher in-person, if possible.

Also, apologies for the angle and the fact that sometimes relevant body parts fling their way out of the shot. I do not, however, apologize for the bras hanging from my closet door or the fact that I refused to crop Casey out of the shots.

Wild Thing — The Hard Way (From Down Dog):

Second quick note: If any of these steps feels like it is your edge, it’s okay to stop there and get used to that new place for a while.

1. I start in downward facing dog.

   

   You will likely want to allow yourself more lateral space than I did, approximately one mat width on each side, give or take.

2. I raise one leg, allowing that hip to open up toward the side. I already begin to feel some stretch in the psoas muscle on the lifted leg.

   

   I feel my shoulders twisting along with the lifted leg. To some extent, that is unavoidable though I try to keep my shoulders as square as possible by grounding into both hands evenly.

3. I bend the top knee, pressing into the ball of the foot. I feel like I’ve heard that keeping the top foot active helps protect the knee or the low back or something. All I know is that it makes sense to me because I am going to land on that foot in a second, and I want it ready to support me.

   

   I feel even more stretch in my psoas here, though it’s not overwhelming for me. And the reason I turn my head to look at my foot is twofold. First, I like the backbendy feeling. Two, what I am about to do with that foot scares me just a little even now, so I like to keep an eye on it as long as possible.

4. Then I drop that foot behind me and square my hips to the ceiling.

   

   For me, that split second of free fall — when it’s too late to go back but I’m not on the ground yet — is the scary part. It’s also one point where, if I don’t keep my abdominals activated and my pelvis in neutral, it can also impinge on my low back, which is never fun.

5. Still “scooping” in my pelvis, I press the fronts of my hips toward the ceiling.

   

   This is a place where I can stretch both psoas muscles (psoases?) at once, and it is kind of awesome. Also, the raised arm reaches out in line with its shoulder so that I can square my chest to my hips. Even though the pose isn’t strictly symmetrical, my torso is as un-twisted as possible.

So, yeah. That’s down dog to wild thing. I’ve been doing it that way for about ten years, and the drop back — even if it is small — still scares me every time. But as I learned, like, two weeks ago — there is an easier way.

Next time.

** Realistically, I know that what each person finds difficult or easy is going to vary from body to body and mind to mind. That said, I find entering from side plank to be much easier both physically and mentally, as it involves a shorter dropback and less bending of the spine on the way down.

Chair Yoga: Quad Stretch

I have not forgotten, either the chair series or where we are in it. After a couple of warrior poses involving thigh strengthening, a quad stretch is definitely in order.

[Uploaded via Expert Village via YouTube.]

I particularly like this pose since it’s one of the more accessible in a line of similar options:

1. Using a strap in a chair to facilitate backbending and front of body stretching.
2. Using a chair but no strap to facilitate the same without worrying about pressure on the knees.
3. Using a strap on the ground as that same arm-extension in a more traditional expression of bow.
4. Entering bow with neither chair nor strap, assuming this is good for an individual’s spine.

Since traditional bow can actually be a tricky one to work into, particularly for the low back and knees, having these options can allow working into the pose in stages.

Day 3 & Day 4

Continuing the Daily Dose of Yoga with suggestions for December 3 and December 4 — or whenever you like, if you like them, according to how they serve you or not.

Day 3: Considering Ahimsa

I’ve most commonly seen ahimsa translated as “nonviolence,” which is, as far as I know, accurate. However, when considering it as part of a yoga practice, it might be helpful to consider it in a broader or deeper sense. I’ve also seen ahimsa described as “do no harm” and practicing compassion, and as practical matters, both of those strike me as more complete and therefore more helpful. For instance, it’s certainly possible for me to be technically nonviolent toward myself or others while still doing them harm or regarding them without compassion.

Shunning someone out.

Self-deprecating talk.

Guilting anyone for something that has already happened.

Nonviolent — but, I would argue, not really in line with an observation of ahimsa.

And you know what? Developing a consistent practice of ahimsa — learning to feel and act compassionately toward others and ourselves — is tough. It’s worthy of being considered a yoga practice in its own right. Because as the sum total of my life, what matters more: how compassionate I am, or how many sun salutations I could do?

Day 4: Heart Opening Asana Practice

This was uploaded by Esther Ekhart, one of my favorite yoga channels on YouTube. It fits in quite nicely with Day 3′s discussion of ahimsa:

[Video from EkhartYoga via YouTube.]

It starts with a fairly fiery core practice that builds into some heart-opening postures. I’ve only viewed (and tried) the practice once, so my memory is not the most informed, but — This is a practice that assumes ability to get into a number of common asanas without assistance. Additionally, it assumes some familiarity with said yoga postures; they are described some but not in a whole lot of detail and not with too many modifications offered. (To give a complete picture, though, Esther Ekhart has another YouTube channel that details a lot of individual poses with much more instruction and modifications. I get the impression that the new channel’s intended audience mostly includes people who are familiar with the first channel.)

Physically, core awareness and control helps create support for safe backbending, which a lot of heart opening postures involve. In terms of chakra work and the subtle body (if you’re into that sort of thing), activating energy in the heart center can help cultivate the capacity for love and compassion within ourselves. Whether that’s strictly true or not, I find that a heart opening practice does serve to remind me to consciously think about how to do no harm.

That Thing I Do with My Hips

It’s a MenstroMonster kind of day, so I spent my asana practice working on releasing tension in my hips and pelvis. Not that all — or even most — endo pain is tension related, but it’s nice to be able to relieve the part that is. Since a fair number of people, not just folks with endo, tend to carry tension in their hips — and since a few IRL folks have asked me what I use for mine — I thought I’d post my favorite hip opening series.

Note: This is a personal practice, based on my physical needs, abilities, and preferences. Part or all of it may not be suitable for some readers. It’s a good idea to use your own best judgment about whether a given pose is good for you, and maybe to consult an expert — which I am not — if you’re unsure.

A capture I took while making the photo post for wild thing. I am not sure if this is as high as my lifted leg goes — with level hips — or if I was just more focused on the different stages of getting to wild thing. Either way, what’s important is that the Caseydog is Not Impressed.

1. Integration: Child’s Pose — Sometimes I am still and sometimes I wiggle my butt a little, feeling out my hips. I stay here long enough to figure out what I’m working with today and what my intention is for my practice.

2. Half Sun Salutes — About 2-5 of these, depending on how stiff my body feels on any given day. I definitely use them as a warm-up, rising higher and bending less in the first half salute than in whatever number is my last.

3. Sun Salutes — I generally only do 1-2 of this particular version because I add onto it quickly in ways that I still consider warm-up friendly.

4. Sun Salute with Low Lunge and Half Pyramid Vinyasa — I usually do 3-5 repetitions of the vinyasa, but I don’t hang out in either pose very long at all: half or one complete breath cycle. Really, I’m just loosening up my hips for the next sun salute.

5. The Next Sun Salute, with Low Lunge — What it says. With this round, I tend to hold the lunge for 5-10 breaths. I tend to do 1-2 of these salutes, depending on how willing my front hip flexors are.

6. Sun Salute with Warrior 1 — Again, just one of these on each side, held for 5-10 breaths because I’m getting ready to build on in my next salute.

7. Sun Salute with Devotional Warrior — I enter from warrior 1 on each side and hold for 5-10 breaths. I might do 2-3 of these if my outer hips feel tight, or just 1 if what I’m really moving toward is a chance to stretch the fronts and insides of my hips a bit more.

8. Sun Salute with Warrior 2 — Usually I ease into this pose as well, bending and straightening my front leg a few times before I hold the standing pose for several breath cycles. Most of the time, I only “need” one of this series to let my hips relax, but sometimes I repeat it just because I like it.

9. Sun Salute with Triangle — Not gonna lie. Sometimes I hang out here for a good long while, just because I love it.

10. Standing Sequence: Eagle into Half Moon — Because this is a pretty intense balance sequence for me — especially the transitions between the postures — I tend to let my balance guide me in how fast I transition and how long I stay in each pose. Usually, I’ll only enter the sequence once on each side unless I fall out of it so fast that I call a yoga do-over.

11. Transition Poses: Uttanasana and Thunderbolt — Long enough in each one to feel grounded, 5-10 breaths is a good rule of thumb for me.

12. Camel — I generally do 2 rounds of this, one gentle for me, one working my edge a little more. It’s common for me to hold the first pose for ~5 breaths and the second for more like 10-12.

13. Pigeon with Maybe a Side Dish of King Pigeon — This is one of my longer-held postures. Typically, I spend 6-12 breaths in upright pigeon, 12+ breaths in prone pigeon, and 6-12 breaths bringing my back leg in at least a little in king pigeon or a modification. Generally, my back hip flexor needs that extra bit of stretch.

14. Wide Legged Seated Forward Bend — No lie, any practice where I get to do camel and then this pose makes Tori a happy camper. (So, yes, when I self-select my practice, I do this a lot.) And I’m capable of living here for minutes at a time — again, several breaths to get into the posture, and then more to let my body relax into its edge.

15. Supine Spinal Twist — My intent here is to do an easy spinal twist. I use it to decompress after the back and forward bending I’ve done this practice. I usually hang out for 5-10 breaths on a side.

16. Savasana — Sometimes I substitute legs up the wall (legs on the couch?) but not usually, as this sequence doesn’t involve a lot of bending in my low back.

My total practice time usually runs in the 50 minute range and is most affected by how much time I spend in integration or savasana.

Enjoy!

Getting Over Myself

I’m pretty flexible. Sometimes I pride myself on being flexible, and that is my downfall.

When I enter pigeon pose, there is nothing in my front leg knee or hip that prevents me from comfortably settling into any angle or configuration up there. On my extended leg, my hip flexors — including but probably not limited to my psoas — are tighter, but not so much that I can feel myself tipping off to the side. Definitely not so much that any of my teachers suggests an adjustment in the pose.

For a long time, the main alignment cues I heard were these:

1. Do not cause yourself pain in the knees just to get a larger angle. In fact, do not cause yourself knee pain — which is by and large a solid piece of life advice right there.
2. You should be feeling the stretch in the outer hip (or butt cheek) of the front leg.

The latter is still totally valid instruction if the outer hip/piriformis is a tighter area of the body — but I’m starting to think that is not anatomical fact for everyone.

(Video by Sadie Nardini via YouTube.)

To get significant stretch in my outer hip, I have to fall way out to the side to find it. In doing so, I lose pretty much all the opening in the hip flexors on my back leg. From a certain perspective, this might not matter so much, if the primary intent of the pose really is to focus on the outer hip.

But that may not be the primary intent of the pose, at least not for everyone, according to different physiological needs. If, for example, I make pigeon about my back leg hip flexors, the opening is way more intense and therapeutic than anything that’s going on in my front leg.

Only, to do that, I have to get over myself — quite literally. I end up needing to recenter myself across my hips and closing the angle in my front knee. The latter is what actually took me the longest to concede. I’d been so hung up on the idea of a smaller knee angle meaning less flexible that I wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening in the rest of my body. It wasn’t harmful, that wider knee angle, but it wasn’t helpful, either.

In a petty way, it was uncomfortable to admit to myself that the best option for me was to get over myself — i.e., my ego — and actually get over myself — i.e., both hips.

Core Awareness: Cat and Cow Flow

Because of the anatomical construction of the multifidus muscle group — where it’s actually a series of small muscles, each one spanning a section of 2-4 vertebrae — one way to bring awareness to this part of the core is to visualize each vertebra articulating through a movement. One nice and reasonably accessible movement that does this is the cat/cow flow:

(Video clip via ExpertVillage.)

In cow, the multifidus muscles are actually contracting, one by one, to extend (backbend) the spine. In cat, they’re stretching to flex (forward bend) the spine.

I very much like the technique of initiating both phases of the movement — into cow and into cat — from the base of the spine. First off, it helps me envision the vinyasa as a wave in a way that lets me my vertebrae very deliberately from one end to the other. Second, it lets my neck — which can sometimes get crunched upward in cow — be a natural expression of what the rest of my spine is doing rather than something I’m forcing artificially.

If this cat/cow vinyasa isn’t good for wrist reasons (mine are uncomfy today for some reason, maybe too many up dogs), alternative options include:

• Rolling bridge (demonstrated in the final YouTube video).
• Mountain to Forward Fold, ragdoll-style.
• Spinal self-massage.

Whether or not it’s specifically mentioned in all of the individual posts, each asana or vinyasa can be done with an intent to focus on becoming aware of the multifidus and articulating the spine.

Obesity Isn’t

I’ve received a fair number of troll comments in response to this post. (I’m explicitly not referring to any comments that were published there but rather the ones I deemed unfit for publication on my blog.) Not only were these comments hateful, but most of them appeared to be operating on an inaccurate understanding of the word obesity. Which, if there’s one thing in the world I don’t like, it’s hateful misinformation. (If there are two things I don’t like, it’s hateful misinformation and pickles, but as pickles seem to be content to live and let live, I’ll focus my attention on the first.)

According to the World Health Organization, obesity is having a body mass index equal to or greater than 30, where body mass index is a height-weight ratio “defined as the weight in kilograms divided by the square of the height in metres.”

In other words, it is a measure of weight as a function of height.

It is not a measure of percent body fat.

It is not a measure of blood glucose, cholesterol, triglycerides, blood pressure, or resting heart rate.

It is not a measure of what I had for breakfast, what my daily food consumption looks like, or how many Big Macs I’ve had in the last week. (From what I know, Big Macs contain pickles in two places.)

It is not a measure of how often I work out or what my yoga practices are “really” like.

It is neither a measure of whether I’m lying when I talk about running three miles nor a reason “why [I] should just stay out of the gym entirely, so people don’t have to look at [my] rolls of fat.”

It is not a measure of my strength, endurance, or flexibility.

It is not an excuse to keep me where you don’t have to look at me.

It is not a way to silence me.

It is not a signal that “Jesus stopped loving [me] a long time ago.” (Really? Really? Certain trolls might want to invest in beta readers. Just sayin’.)

It is not a reference point for my intellect, whether I’m “only deluding [my]self that yoga is actually exercise” or I’m “too stupid to understand all the damage [I'm] doing to [my] body” or “dumb enough to think that fat can be healthy.”

It is not a reflection of my hygiene.

It is not a sign that “no one will ever fuck [me]” or a good prediction point for whether I’ll “die alone.”

It is not an invitation to police my body.

It is not “gross.”

It is not a marker of lesser agency, humanity, or worthiness of respect.

And I realize that not everyone is comfortable with their body size, for reasons that may or may not be the result of healthy choices. But for me —

My body is the biceps that lower me into chaturanga time and again with precision and control.

It is the triceps hold me — against gravity — at length in down dog.

It is the dense thighs that give my warriors power.

It is the abdominals that let me reach for the sky in boat and to find length and balance in half moon.

It is the open hips and strong back that allow me to fly in grasshopper.

I cannot say to my self, in any seriousness, “I love you for what you are, but would you please be thin instead?”

I don’t expect that everyone wants my body, and that’s fine. But — in spite of its size or perhaps because of it — it’s pretty awesome just the same.

Caught on Video

The inspiration for both this idea and this post come from The Trouble with Proving It at Dances With Fat. Both in the original post and in the comments that follow, there’s a whole collection of pictures and videos of larger bodied people being active and amazing. (TW: The post and comments do discuss fat shaming, so it’s worth keeping in mind if you decide to head over there.)

I did not have the most stellar day yesterday — I’m not sure days spent in gastroenterology procedures ever are — so seeing the videos of awesomeness was progressively more inspiring. When I got home yesterday afternoon, I decided to do something I’d never done before: videotape my own practice.

In a way, it seems counter intuitive to yoga, being concerned about the aesthetics of the asanas. And it’s not something I would do often or if I thought I’d get overly attached to the results. But as an exercise in self-study — not to mention an exercise in courage — the process was very rewarding.

It did have some practical limitations, mostly in the form of my living room is too small. There was no place I could set up my webcam that was far enough away to film all of the space (length, width, and height) where I move in a practice. As a result, I have a lot of frames where I seem to be missing various extremities. It’s sort of good this is not about my cinematography skills.

While I wouldn’t use these videos for any kind of illustration purposes for others, they did give me — who already knows precisely what my personal practice feels like — some excellent visual feedback. I observed some movements — like knee flexion in warrior two and hip flexion in extended side angle — of which I may want to be particularly mindful in the future. And I saw an interplay between spinal angle and alignment — in both triangle and half moon — that I otherwise would not have noticed and that I might want to play with.

I don’t consider these to be poses or actions I’m doing “wrong.” Rather, I consider them points of body awareness that I can incorporate into my practice in a way that serves me best.

I also found viewing some parts of my asana practice to be very affirming for me. Secretly (and sometimes not-so-secretly), I am very insecure about my planks and chaturangas. I generally use an unmodified version (i.e., no knees down). I constantly hear and read about alignment issues and how it’s very much a strength pose — and of course I constantly hear and read negative assumptions about my weight and therefore my relative strength. I’m also keenly aware of my propensity to push my body too far, to do too much. And when I think about that, I’m also reminded of the cultural stereotype of the “lazy fat person.” Viscerally, regardless of what I know to be true, I do not want to be that person.

So when I practice, there’s always this voice — sometimes helpful but often nagging — trying to find the balance between working too hard and not working hard enough.

Reviewing the footage, I discovered that my planks and chaturangas are solid. They’re straight, aligned, controlled, and really, really consistent. That is one nagging voice I can tell to shut the hell up. I have proof for the only person who matters; I have proof for me.

I suppose the fitting ending for this post would be to share a clip of one of my plank to chaturanga transitions. Unfortunately, this is where we run into technical difficulties again (though I probably will upload said clip eventually). Just like my cinematography skills are not so great, my video editing skills are also way in the rookie stage. I did manage to isolate some shorter backbending sequences. A couple of various notes:

1. My webcam did this weird thing where it recorded bits and pieces of my practice music. So while editing, I added other music over that to save you from the strange screeches.
2. As I implied earlier, these videos are not intended to be instructional in any way. Both of the clips depict asanas that, for me, require a lot of experience with backbends. If they’re not already part of your personal practice, I’d recommend learning them from a qualified yoga teacher — i.e., not these videos and not me.
3. Once again, I apologize for the parts of my body that went missing. I will work on remedying that in future recordings, should there be any. If anyone would like to aid the process by providing my a larger living room or more versatile webcam, leave a comment. I’m happy to entertain offers.

Also, please to be ignoring the hot mess that is my clutter. And yes, I do mean “hot mess” literally. It was about 100 degrees when I shot these.

Ultimately, I think posts like this, videos like this, sharing like this — regardless of the media type — is hugely important. I get plenty of opportunities in my life to internalize negative messages about myself. It’s awesome to be able to internalize meaningful positive messages as well.

Getting To It: Dromedary Edition

Note: This pose assumes a working familiarity with safe backbending. If that’s not really you, you may prefer some introductory backbending posts or other asanas to strengthen the erector spinae.

I’d intended this post to come directly after talking about my own experiences with ustrasana, but… life.

Even though I’m focusing on the erector spinae, camel is actually one of my favorite poses to strengthen both the back and the front of my core. When I extend my spine, bending backward, my erector spinae are contracting and strengthening. At the same time, my abdominal muscles are working eccentrically, as a stabilizing force to keep me from just collapsing into my low spine. (As someone with a very bendy low back, I can assure you that I appreciate my abs a great deal in this pose.) And of course, the abdominals contract to flex the spine to bring me back up out of the pose.

A pretty clear and solid demonstration of ustrasana:

Generally, I take camel after I’m already reasonably warmed up, so my thighs (also working strongly in the pose), abs, and spine are feeling ready. I am also a fan of entering the posture a number of times (generally between 3 and 5 for me, but it’s definitely a YMMV situation) — more gently at the beginning, deeper toward the end, and with a counter pose like child’s pose or sitting back on my heels between each camel.

The first time I’m likely to either stabilize my pelvis with my hands (which limits how far I can bend back) or to use a prop like a chair or some blocks. (Note: Pregnancy not necessary for blocks to work.) I’m not sure if I do this because I need to call to mind muscle memory or because I need to work through my ustrasana anxiety slowly. But at the end of the day, if it’s keeping my back safe, I’m okay with it.

As for later ventures into the pose, I’m a fan of several of the variations shown here:

Except that arm cross thing. Awesome if it works for you, but my shoulders want no part of that.

Me & My Camel

Trigger Warning: This post discusses responding to sexual assault.

There was a time, just after I stopped sharing a bedroom with my sister, when I became… not afraid of the dark, exactly, but leery of what I couldn’t anticipate, what I couldn’t see. I never used a night light though I burned through the bulbs of several flashlights for after-hours reading purposes. I didn’t have nightmares, fear of bedtime, or insomnia.

But I remember always, always sleeping with my back to the wall. And I mean wiggling right up against the wall, which was cool and practical in summer but kind of shivery in winter. Additionally, if I needed to flip sides during the night — say, from right to left — I’d also flip head-to-foot on the bed so I could keep my back to the wall. As long as I could feel that no one or nothing — back then, I’m not sure if I was afraid of people or of monsters under the bed still — could sneak up behind me, I slept fine.

Mostly, folks just accepted this as an idiosyncrasy of mine; I have many and gradually grew out of this one anyway. A parent once commented casually about it, to which I just said, “This is where I’m comfortable.” It was at least part of the truth, and it’s a surface explanation I’d accept, except —

There was a time, just after I was raped, when I became afraid of what I couldn’t anticipate, what I couldn’t see.

This time, my back-to-the-wall vantage point expanded beyond my bedroom. I sat sideways in chairs in class and on the bus, with my back to a side wall, so that I could always watch out for whatever was there. Walking across campus with others, I found ways to be at the back of the pack. Walking alone, I checked regularly over each shoulder. At social gatherings, I found ways to tuck myself into corners so I could watch everything and every one — because now I was sure people were scarier than monsters.

I’m not sure how much these actions interfered with my ability to enjoy life, but the actions were symptomatic of fear, and the fear was entwined in everything I did, pervasive.

Which was why, when I was learning ustrasana (as part of a process of reclaiming my body and mind after my assault), it wasn’t just scary for me. It was downright triggering. Entering ustrasana, or camel, quite literally means dropping backward into what I cannot see. Even though the floor or my feet (or the wall or blocks or a chair or whatever I used as a prop) has never disappeared out from under me, there’s a difference between knowing my support is going to be there because, duh, that’s logic, and knowing my support is going to be there because I can always see it. Especially for someone who has not so logical reactions to the world around her, the difference between trusting my eyes and trusting my mind is huge.

Maybe aside from when I was first working to build the base amount of necessary muscle, I’ve always been more limited by my emotions than by my body in this pose. My body will bend back into kapotasana if I let it, but my fear relinquishes its hold in small and hard-fought increments. I’ve gone from camels that keep my hands on my pelvis to camels that use a chair to to camels that reach for my raised or lowered heels to camels that start reaching overhead for the ground behind me. It’s been years — eleven since I was raped and maybe nine or ten that I’ve been working with camel — and every time I begin in my kneeling shape, that wave of fear still hits me.

But I know now that the wave will ebb, not completely away but back to where I can move again. I know how to sit with my doubts and my terrors until they’re no longer coursing out my ears. I know how to acknowledge rather than fight my fear. I think, though I’m still not sure, this might be what people mean when they talk about cultivating courage.

The courage I’ve found from and in ustrasana is the emotional foundation of all my subsequent arm balances, the poses where I almost certainly have to fall on my face at least once. It’s the courage that lets me try headstand in the middle of the room when I know I have the strength and balance but really want to see the wall. It’s the courage that lets me talk about my experiences with rape and rape culture, to people who may well be unclueful or hostile, without seeing ahead of time what the response is likely to be. And it’s one factor in why I no longer sleep with my back to the wall.

Spine Warm-Up & Self-Massage

Because it’s Friday and I deserve it. Also because apanasana is a great way to move into an asana focus on the erector spinae.

Apana is the term for the force that removes “stuff” from the body — where “stuff” can mean breath, urine, feces, menstrual fluid, or negative energy. (And probably other stuff too. That list is not intended to be all-inclusive.) Apana is generally regarded as originating in the lower chakras and/or pelvic floor, which then might explain why apanasana primarily involves the movement of the low back and pelvis.

One short-term physical benefit of apanasana is that it offers a supported way to stretch and start to move the low spine without putting a whole lot of stress on the body. This can be a great way to send blood flow to the back muscles and to generally circulate fluids around the body. In the longer term, apanasana may also be involved in other benefits to the physical and energy bodies:

I’m also just going to throw this in here as an aside: While a long-standing practice has done a lot for me physically and mentally, I’m not going to pretend I think it’s a magic cure-all for all people or any given condition. That said, I do think it’s worthwhile to approach ideas with an open mind (open critical minds and open skeptical minds do count!) and for folks to work with those ideas in a way that best serves them.

A variation of the pose involves moving the knees in a circle (repeating both clockwise and counterclockwise), still in connection with the breath. I tend to like this variation because I can adjust my thigh position so that my sacrum is always on the ground and the circular movement massages it, which relieves some of my pelvic tension and sacroiliac joint pain. YMMV with that, of course, but it’s not a bad thing to play with.

Finally, apanasana (either variation) can be a good counter pose either after or in between backbends. So, something to remember for later.

Let’s talk about erectors.

I’m stressed. The end of my semesters — as a student and as a teacher — are rapidly approaching, but they’re both still in “fuck! it’s all due now!” phase and have not yet entered the “so close I can taste it euphoria.” Term papers taste like fishy sand.

I’m cranky. See “stressed” above. Plus the MenstroMonster is rooming with me for the foreseeable future, my pelvis feels like it’s on fire and about to explode, and part of me sort of wishes it would.

So I am hunched, spine rounded, over my desk and keyboard, neck jutting forward to glare at the monitor. Given the subject matter, I am acutely aware of how this is impacting my erector spinae.

The erector spinae — look at that seamless writing transition! — are a group of muscles and ligaments that run roughly vertically from the lumbar spine up to the neck. In MS Paint Anatomy, those muscles look like this:

The muscle right next to the spine on either side is called spinalis. (It, like all the muscles in the erector spinae group, consists of 3 vertical parts as well: cervical, when talking about the part along the neck and shoulder area; thoracic, when talking about the upper and mid back; and lumborum, when referring to the low back.) Next to that is the longissimus, the “meatiest” muscle in this group; it’s about a half inch to either side of the spine and may feel like rope or sinew. To the side of that is the iliocostalis muscle, which originates both on the sacrum (spine) and iliac crest (top of the pelvic/hip bone).

As a group, the erector spinae have two main functions: Working bilaterally, they extend the spine — entering a backbend or returning to neutral from a forward bend. Working single-sidedly, they laterally flex the spine to that side. The more lateral muscles — longissimus and iliocostalis — are active to some degree in spinal twisting, depending on the depth of the twist.

In a fair portion of contemporary industrialized societies, where the expectation is to be bent (forward) over something for much of the day, there is a tendency for the erector spinae to be overstretched and insufficiently strong. This can lead to a few issues, the first being an over-rounded thoracic spine and tighter (but not necessarily stronger) muscles across the front of the body. (Remember when we talked about the implications — physical and societal — of tight abs? This is that.) In addition to issues of muscle weakness putting stress on other muscles, bones, and connective tissue, imbalance in the longissimus and iliocostalis can result in low back and butt/hip pain.

Fair warning: The low back/hip/pelvic region is complex, and not all pain felt in that location is caused by the erector spinae — or by any skeletal muscles at all — necessarily. Simply put, there is all kinds of shit happening there and it is impossible to determine — particularly as a non-healthcare-professional over the Internet — what is causing any given individual’s shit. (And indeed, I spent 14 years in diagnosis for my Shit Down There.) However, for folks without contraindications and who practice asana mindfully, it’s unlikely that working to strengthen the erector spinae will do harm and quite possible that it will do tangible good.