Hip Yoga: Eagle

In the last hip yoga post, I detailed a reclined stretching pose. For the next few posts of the series, I’m going to look at postures that contract and strengthen the hip adductors. (As someone with tight complementary muscles — aka., the hip abductors — I assure you that this hurts me more than it hurts you.) Today I’m looking at a standing posture; however, for folks for whom standing is not the best of all possible worlds, floor poses are certainly in this blog’s future.

Today’s asana is eagle pose, a fairly involved standing balance that incorporates hip adduction as one of its elements. It also calls on lower body strength, core stability, and shoulder stretching for the pose.

[Chelsey Korus instructing for Howcast. Video via YouTube.]

In terms of adductor action, it’s the adductors — specifically adductor magnus — that we’re focusing on here. The top thigh is crossing the midline of the body, creating some adductor engagement and contraction. If you do a thing known as “hugging the midline” — basically, making sure the core is engaged, then squeezing the left and right thighs toward one another, creating some stability in the spine and pelvis — it can intensify the top leg adduction.

In terms of the rest of the posture, well, let’s just say that it’s a pose with a lot going on. In case of possible overwhelmedness:

• It is totally reasonable to separate out the shoulder business from the leg business and to only do one or the other (at a time or at all) until such time as you feel comfortable adding on.
• Some instructors teach to enter the pose legs first, then arms. Some teach arms first, then legs. While that second option is what works for me personally, there is no actual magic answer. It’s fine to do whichever is easiest for you.
• You can also do this pose with your bum lightly resting against a wall for balance.

Also to complicate matters, the many arm and leg options for the pose. Legs first this time, just because:

• One option is to cross the top leg over the standing leg, then rest the top toes (as much or as little as is good for you) on the ground. This does lessen the work in the top adductor; on the flip side, it aids stability and balance. Personally, I am a fan of this leg option when I want to concentrate more on the shoulder stretch, so I want a leg position where toppling over is less of a looming possibility.
• Another option is to cross the top leg over the standing leg just one time, so that the outside edge of the top foot or calf is moving toward touching the outside edge of the standing calf. This ends up being the option I take most often because I like the balance challenge, but I don’t like the wiggling and wriggling I have to do to take option three.
• The last leg option I know involves crossing the top thigh over, as in the second option, but then continuing the wrap with the lower leg so that the top foot is tucked behind the standing calf. Because of the girth of my legs (thighs and calves) and the non-flexibility of my hip abductors (which are getting stretched here), this variation is often a PITA for me to get into, so I usually pretend it doesn’t even exist.

And the arms:

• One option involves placing the hands on opposite shoulders, sort of like giving yourself a hug, and lifting up through the elbows (which are more or less lined up on top of one another at the center line of the chest). I sometimes take this option when my shoulders are feeling extra tight or when I want to focus more on my hips.
• The next option involves lifting the forearms so they’re vertical and back to back with one another. This is a pretty commonly offered variation, so I’m guessing it’s useful for folks for whom the first option isn’t enough shoulder stretch but for whom the third option is also less workable. (For me, my forearms and wrists are happy to do the twisting thing, so I rarely take this arm variation.)
• The final option involves raising the forearms, then sort of twisting them around one another so that the palms come more or less to touch. (I end up touching palms to fingertips, and I vote that’s good enough.) For me, at least, this variation doesn’t increase the shoulder stretch any over the second option. What it does do, however, is to create a convenient “lock” that helps keep my arms from slipping out of position.

Which. Yeah. A lot to think about.

For next time, maybe I can find some non-standing options for eagle?

Adductor Stretching, Side Lying

I have a feeling that I’m going to get into some fairly intense vigorous standing poses while discussing the hip adductors, so I wanted to start this segment with something a bit more restful. Anantasana, side reclining leg lift, does require some amount of core stability in addition to leg mobility, but every time I look at pictures of it, I’m like, “Oh, how nice. That person is resting on the floor. I can do that.” So I figured it might not be a bad place to start.

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

My copy of Yoga Anatomy tells me that some hip adductors are lengthening in both the top and the bottom leg in this pose. I can only feel an inner thigh stretch in my top leg, but I’m not sure if that’s just my anatomy. I do have a tendency to not feel inner thigh stretches in poses that are suitably stretchy for a lot of other people.

I can also feel my quads, glutes, and oblique abdominals working to keep me stable in the pose. I’m not sure that the quantity of effort they’re expending is enough for me to classify this as a vigorous pose for me. However, I do find the quality of the effort to be unusual. The pose is less familiar to be, so while I may have the muscle strength to hold my body stable there, I don’t necessarily have the muscle memory to put that strength to practical use yet.

All of which is a long way to say that I suspect there is a learning curve to this posture and that said learning curve involves rolling backward a lot. If this is a problem, Yoga Journal recommends bracing the soles of the feet (probably, ultimately, just the bottom foot) against a wall. I could also see doing the pose with the bum either right next to or just a few inches away from the wall — maybe not preventing any rollback, but at least keeping rollback to a minimum.

As for leg positions, the one I see most often is to take a toe lock (first two fingers around the big toe) and fully extend the leg. And the modification I see most often involves using a strap around the foot in place of a toe lock while still fully extending the leg. A couple of other things I think could also work (which might be useful in a context where one does not have a strap):

• Extending the leg fully with nothing attached to the foot — For me, this results in less stretch along my hip adductors but more effort through my quad to keep my leg up in the air.
• Using a bent knee version — Sort of like the second picture here, only rotated 90 degrees. Again, a gentler inner thigh stretch, this time with no increase in stabilizing effort.

Overall, I find it a fairly accessible, comfy pose — accidental rollbacks to my bum notwithstanding. That said, it’s not one I’ve incorporated into many of my practices, especially not my home practices. Maybe I should remedy that.

And We All Fall Down

Given the number of times I declare my undying hatred of standing balance poses, it may be surprising, both that I put together a sequence — for my school students — building toward half moon and that I enjoyed doing so. Regular half-moon — as opposed to revolved half-moon, which is a tool of the butt-burning devil, I say affectionately — has never been a pose I love to hate. Perhaps because it’s a hip-twisting-open pose, at least for the standing leg, which is a direction my body likes to go naturally. Perhaps because the most common expression of the pose involves keeping the bottom hand or fingertips on the floor, so it’s not really a standing balance in the way that some others are.

I now have a core group of students who are getting decidedly more adventurous with their pose preferences, so I thought this might be a fun way to challenge them. That said, I can have new people — new to me, totally new to yoga, whatever definition you please — show up at any time as well (something I’m sure is true for any number of people who lead yoga sessions). Because of that, I wanted something that had a lot of flexibility and options built in. This is what I came up with.

Judging from student feedback, I think I may have skewed it a little too far toward the physically vigorous end of the spectrum. Good for me to keep in mind for next time, but not a big deal in the moment on account of some of the built-in options.

Also, before we started, I made sure to let them know:

1. Every single vinyasa was 100% customizable. This includes skipping any given — or all offered — vinyasas entirely.
2. It is totally normal to fall the first time — or the first several times — one tries half moon. In fact, it is good to plan for it and so to position oneself where they won’t accidentally kick another student in the face.

Warm Up:

All variations on uttanasana, including:

• 3 repetitions of ardha uttanasana to uttanasana.
• 3 repetitions of an uttanasana twist (links to PDF; I’m referring to first option pictured), holding for 1 breath on each side.
• 1 more repetition of the same twist, this time holding for 3 breaths on each side.

Sun Salutes, C Series:

The ones we do here are still sort of an extension of our warm up:

• For the first round, I incorporate an open twist in the lunge for each side. That is, we twist the torso toward the back leg, sort of as is pictured here. It’s a gentler twist than the one more often used here, but it more closely mimics the body position in half moon. We hold each twist for 3 breaths.
• For the second round, we do the more common bent knee lunge twist, both as a counterpose to the first twist and because there’s an option for revolved half-moon later. We also hold each of these twists for 3 breaths.

Sun Salutes, A Series:

With add ons.

• The first time through, we add on some warrior 2 — 3 bend-straighten repetitions, then a hold for 3-5 breaths.
• Next comes a sun salute with reverse warrior to extended side angle. Again, 3 flowing repetitions, then a hold of side angle for 3-5 breaths.
• Another one, this time with triangle, held for 5 breaths on each side.

Standing Series:

• Goddess, 3 1-breath repetitions, then 1 hold of 3-5 breaths.
• Wide angle forward bend for 5 or so breaths.
• Down dog, because it’s a nice starting position for half moon.
• Half moon for 10 or so breaths. I know that might sound like a long hold for someone new to the pose, but I found that my students needed that much time to figure out how it actually worked. From down dog, we stepped forward into lunge, then stepped the back foot up, then worked on hand position. Then we just lifted the back foot, talking about engagement and rotation, for a couple of breaths; then a few breaths rotating the top hip up with both hands on the floor; then bringing the top hand to the hip. And then we all fall down.
• Either uttanasana or revolved half moon — the latter bringing both hands back to the ground — for about 5 breaths. Then back to down dog and repeat on the other side.
• At the end of the second side, we all took a few breaths in uttanasana, or — as it was then known — “the heck did we just do?” pose.

Core Work:

Abs and back.

• Boat, either toes on the floor, knees bent, or legs straight. I think we did 2 rounds of 5 breaths each.
• Bridge, first in a flow of 5 repetitions for 1 breath each. Then they chose whether to repeat that or to hold bridge for 5 breaths.

Floor Work:

• Dandasana for a few breaths to prepare for some seated twists. We also came back to dandasana in between each subsequent pose.
• Seated spinal twist for 5 breaths on each side.
• And also janu sirsasana in the same way.
• Then savasana because savasana.

It was fun when we did it, but it was after this class that my students requested a yin series the following week.

“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.

Hip Yoga: I avoid standing balances like the plague.

But today I am going to look at tree pose.

Because, as I learned when researching hip abductor anatomy, the gluteus minimus, gluteus medius, and tensor fasciae latae are also active and working when the body is standing on one leg.

And if I cannot bring myself to love standing balances because, well, I generally neither stand nor balance for long — I can at least console myself with the idea that my hip abductors are probably strengthening regardless of how many times I fall.

Because it combines strength and balance on the standing leg with groin and hip flexibility in the lifted leg, I like to start with a modified tree. Given my hip issues, this is true even if I know my hips and groins are already warmed up from other poses.

[Philene Trevathan instructing for Expert Village. Video via YouTube.]

Because if something is uncool with my pelvic strength, flexibility, or balance for the day, I’d like to know before my heel is up in my crotch.

Alignment points that help me:

1. Setting up my standing leg directly under my hip joint, which is a different place from the outer edge of my hip, and spreading the toes of my standing foot, both to engage the foot and lower leg muscles and to maximize standing surface area. I do think this last bit might be only psychological, but in a standing balance, I’ll take what I can get.
2. Settling my pelvis into a neutral alignment. My personal tendency is to rotate my hip points forward and down and compensate by arching my low back. Not the best habit for my low back in the long run, I’m sure, and definitely not the most stable for balancing. And for me, it’s necessary to tip my pelvis back toward a more neutral, vertical alignment — which, incidentally, helps keep my spine more vertical and helps me engage my core for more stability.
3. Separate hip movement from foot placement in my lifted leg. That is, I abduct and externally rotate my lifted hip first before I even worry about how far up my leg that foot will go. This helps me get the maximum hip opening from the pose.

I am not always a fan of the “Nike Yoga” series, but I appreciate the principle behind this one, that it is worth getting into the hip rotation before holding the pose:

[Leah Kim instructing for Nike Dynamic Yoga. Video uploaded by bellayogi via YouTube.]

Additionally, once my legs are set up in the posture, the best thing I can usually do is to become still. This includes finding a gazing point that: a) does not move; b) allows me to keep my neck — and therefore the rest of my spine — in a neutral alignment (at eye level or on the ground a few/several feet away are usually good choices for me). It also includes keeping my arms closer in toward my torso: I almost always take tree with either my hands on my hips or in prayer at the center of my chest. While I’m aware that there are all kinds of variations with arms up or out away from the torso, most of those variations are not — most days — for me.

But in case you are interested in those arm variations, here’s one last video that shows a few of them:

[Video by My Yoga Online via YouTube.]

Yoga Month, Yoga Wisdom — Analyze

The fourth thing yoga taught me was to analyze.

I do mean the first definition of analyze listed here, to break something down into its separate parts — and then to figure out how those parts all work together.

As in, arm balances are fucking complicated. When I first saw people do them, I interpreted them entirely as strength poses — and mostly as arm strength poses — and so thought there was no way I’d ever be able to do them.

[In case it is not clear -- not me.]

Even after I learned that arm balances were well and truly mostly about balance — and more core strength than arm strength — I’ve always found them some of the hardest poses to learn. Like, intellectually and in the “creating muscle memory” sense, which for me is a separate thing from, say, straight muscle strengthening or even the kind of exploration I tend to do in standing balances.

Arm balances have always been confusing, and to learn one, I have literally always needed someone walking me through the posture step by step. Ideally, an in person teacher — so I could get immediate feedback on what I was actually doing in the pose (compared to what I thought I was doing; the two are not always the same) — but sometimes a good instructional video tutorial.

Because it takes someone else breaking down those poses into their constituent parts for me to figure out what is going on. I still need that guidance a lot in arm balances, but I’ve been able to apply that basic analysis mode to other types of poses — standing balances and backbends, for starters.

And I’ve been able to take this way of looking at things out into the rest of my life. If there’s something I can’t do or some task that feels overwhelming, the first thing I do — after a moment of panic, of course — is to start breaking it down into steps. I thank arm balances for that.

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.

Everyday Yoga Call for Submissions: Plank

First off, thanks to everyone who’s been contributing — whether once, occasionally, or always!

Second, as always, I am happy to accommodate pose suggestions if anyone has favorite and/or hated poses. I am also open to suggesting additional pose options if those in the quick intro here don’t work for you. Let me know via comment or email.

Third, unless there are strong objections, I’m asking for the next round of submissions to be of plank pose:

[Dear Wikimedia Commons, thank you for existing. Otherwise, I'd have to get up and take a picture of my own self every time.]

It’s maybe one of the first big “strength” poses we’ve done. It’s also one where I know a lot of people who modify at least some of the time — me included. So for this one, I’d like to encourage folks to submit:

• One photo if there’s one “main” version of plank that you do.
• Two photos if you alternate between versions of plank.
• One photo if technical issues or time constraints dictate that, regardless of what you actually do in your practice.
• Two photos if you happen to feel like it, even if you take one variation most of the time.

So. Quick primers on plank:

[Maryam instructing for GeoBeats. Video via YouTube.]

The most common modification I know of is to hold it with knees on the floor:

[Maria S. Scally instructing for GroovySweat. Video via YouTube.]

Additional modifications include performing it on forearms, using a chair, or using a wall.

Submission options:

1. Email me your pic at anytimeyoga@gmail.com.
2. Upload it to the venue of your choice and comment here or email me with the link.

Submission deadline on this one is August 30, 2012.

EDIT: Submission deadline on hold for this one as the deadline for uttanasana is now extended until August 30. If you’ve already submitted a plank pic though, it’s fine; I’ll just hold it until the September 16 post, if that’s okay with you.

Head Standing

Winding down the WEGO Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge. Today’s prompt:

The First Time I… Write a post about the first time you did something. What is it? What was it like? What did you learn from it?

I think I’m going to write about the first time I actually did a headstand, for a couple of reasons:

1. I have been writing some serious and sad entries lately, and I have at least one more planned. This is a happy entry, and it’s nice to have those too.
2. Given some recent postings, it’s been on my mind.

Also, a disclaimer:

This is an individual memory rather than a headstand tutorial. Particularly because it can place stress on the cervical spine, I recommend that anyone interested in expanding their asana practice to include headstand do so under the in-person guidance of a trusted and knowledgeable yoga teacher.

[This is so not what I look like doing headstand. Just sayin'.]

So. Headstand.

I’d actually spent a lot of time — several months of regular practice — developing the requisite upper body and core strength with various asanas like dolphin, plank, and various arm balances. For developing bodily awareness in the shape and fortitude in my gonads, I had been spending a lot of time in headstand prep. That is, torso and upper body in headstand but with my feet still on the ground — and thus, one extra point of physical comfort and mental balance.

I prepped so thoroughly to be careful, certainly, but I also did it because I was stalling. I was terrified of headstand, thinking about it in my head as Potential Neck Snapping Pose. I’d never felt pressure on my neck in the prep poses, but I was well aware that there is a difference between merely placing one’s head on the ground and actually balancing on that head. One seems like it’s placing distinctly more faith in both my body and the laws of physics. (And I spent high school physics copying the homework from my friends, so my faith in physics, while not absent, lacks the bedrock of actual knowledge.)

One week, the class happened to be particularly small, and my teacher offered us the option to explore headstand. (She offered a number of other exploring and/or restorative poses as well — yogi’s choice — but this was the one I remember because it applied to me.) I moved my mat toward the wall. I wasn’t sure where I was ending up, necessarily, but I knew where I was starting. I laid my folded blanket about six inches from the edge of my mat.

“You are strong enough for this,” my teacher smiled as she walked toward me. Then she kept walking, leaving me on my own to decide.

I measured the distance between my elbows, clasped my fingers tightly, and pressed back toward dolphin. Then I walked my feet in and gently rested my head down. All of that with a careful, confident rhythm, like I’d practiced so many times before. I bent my knees in with that same rhythm, like I’d also practiced. Only this time, I didn’t stop there. I tucked in, my feet lifted — first just off the ground, then up toward the ceiling. I hovered there a second, shocked both that it had actually worked and that my neck still felt fine. My arms, shoulders, and core were working their proverbial asses off with this new arrangement, but I knew those were strong enough.

From an aesthetic standpoint, I know my first headstand was not particularly lovely. I overshot vertical, managed to correct, then continued to wobble for the five or ten seconds until I came back down. But. Two Very Important Things:

1. I entered and exited the pose of my own, basically controlled, volition. I slowly raised my legs up, and I slowly brought them back down. I was, in fact, strong enough.
2. I did not snap my neck in half. Always awesome.

I realize that it seems weird to end a post describing an experience with an asana by saying “it’s not about the asana,” but what headstand taught me is not about the asana. I am careful; I am a planner. For a long time, I have known this about myself. But sometimes I have a tendency to be so careful and to get so caught up in the planning that I never actually do the thing I plan to do — often because it seems scary. Sometimes, I need to keep going in spite of myself, to trust that my plans are good enough, that I am strong enough.

Poses I Love to Hate: Standing Hand to Big Toe

Okay, so I secretly love to hate pretty much all standing balances. Basically, I am not inherently graceful, and standing balances — as opposed to, say, arm balances — offer a long and spectacular way to fall.

That said, standing balances are a good way (or a variety of good ways, since there are a lot of them) to practice activating and lifting the pelvic floor and other core muscles.

All that said, working on consciously aligning the pelvis and pelvic floor muscles has helped to stabilize my standing balances a lot (though not unshakably), much as I love and hate to say it. Love it because it’s awesome to be less fearful of falling on my ass and/or into the person next to me. (The latter is actually a bigger source of apprehension and embarrassment.) Hate because now there’s just one less excuse to shy away from standing balances. I still haven’t edged over into not hating them, in case you couldn’t tell.

Anyway, the standing hand to big toe series, with excellent detailed instruction:

[Video featuring Fiji McAlpine of doyogawithme via YouTube.]

Some tips that have helped me in the sequence:

1. It’s okay not to do the whole thing. In fact, it’s okay to start with just the knee lifted in front, to stay that way as long as you want, and to progress as quickly or gradually as works for you. On a related note, it may make sense to keep the knee bent while bringing the leg to the side even if the leg is extended when it’s in front.
2. In terms of keeping my pelvis on a neutral tilt (which helps to keep the pelvic floor lifted), I find it helpful to place one hand — not the hand that would grasp the big toe or the knee — on my sacrum. Since my natural tendency is to arch my lower back, sending my pelvis into an anterior tilt, it’s much easier for me to feel what = neutral with my hand than it is to feel it directly in my spine and pelvis.
3. Visualizing drawing into the midline — thinking about hip point connecting to hip point and front ribs and navel connecting to spine — isn’t perfect, but it can help.
4. Know what can also help? Using a wall or chair for balance, particularly for getting used to how a particular expression of the pose should feel for you — and then gradually peeling fingertips away for the lightest touch that still works for you.

For me, a lot of these tips also apply to other standing balances. I think. But bear in mind, this is coming from a person who considers it a modern day miracle when she doesn’t topple forward or sideways in warrior 3 or any other balance pose. So I still think one of the most helpful tips here is to say: Falling is normal. It means you’re stepping outside of your comfort zone. When you don’t fall in one expression or one pose, that means it’s time to try falling in another.

I do arm balances like dark chocolate.

I recently watched this arm balance prep video at Yoga with Nadine. (And, yes, it’s awesome enough to visit their blog directly.) The video itself is pretty nifty, but what resonated most with me was part of the introduction:

I seldom do REAL arm balances because my wrists kind of hate them – I can…

But I shouldn’t.

Now, it’s worth pointing out that my wrists do not hate arm balances, but the distinction between can and should still applies to me in these poses. Maybe especially because I do love arm balances so much, and despite how my wrists feel about them, these types of postures do ask a lot of my wrists. If I do more arm balances than I should at any given point, then I can end up feeling it in my wrists.

That said, for me personally, it’s not that arm balances are “shouldn’t” asanas but rather that they are “sometimes” poses. I like to think of it as doing arm balances like dark chocolate.

In small quantities, there is no food I like better than dark chocolate. Rich, smooth, sweet, and bitter at the same time, it’s pretty much perfection in a nibble. Similarly, if there’s one moment in an asana practice that is my few seconds of bliss, it is while I am suspended in an arm balance.

But just like it doesn’t seem enjoyable to me to eat a brick of dark chocolate, neither does making my practice all arm balances all the time (or even a lot more arm balancey than it is now) seem like a stellar idea. Some things are better — and more powerful, even — a little at a time.

Chair Yoga: Seated Balance

I know, it’s been just shy of forever since I did my last

I think it’s my soleus.

This is one of those stories where someone — lots of someones, actually — told me I couldn’t do something — in this case, a standing split balance pose — and then I went ahead and did it anyway. This is also one of those stories where I discover I have an attachment to being right and to smugness (my own, not other people’s). This is also a story about shoes.

I’ve been working with various expressions of standing split for maybe 7 or 8 years. First it was about getting my hamstrings to loosen up: they’re generally quite obliging about this sort of thing. Then it was about developing the core strength to open my heart center enough to start thinking about balancing (entering the pose with both hands on my standing ankle rather than on the ground). Now — and for the past 4 years or so — it’s been about playing with balancing. And, you know, not falling on my face. Because that would kind of hurt.

While trying the standing split with one hand on the ground, I’ve been offered a few reasons why I’ve had extended trouble moving into the balance:

1. My core muscles aren’t strong enough to stabilize the rest of my body.
2. My core muscles might be strong, but there’s too much weight to be supported over one ankle.
3. My center of gravity is too variable. Since fat jiggles, my torso is not as still in the pose compared to the torso of someone with less fat.

At one point, a teacher at a studio I visited told me to “accept that it’s never going to happen.”**

I believed these for years. Not only that this pose might be more difficult for me than for someone of a smaller frame (which may well be true) and that it was unreasonable for me to try to attain it (something I know is downright false).

But really? I think the physical weakness has been my soleus this whole time.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been going about my day-to-day life in minimalist shoes (I’m not going to claim they’re magic for everyone, but they work well for my body), which try to approximate what life would be like in bare feet — and which consequently strengthen the muscles of the lower legs, feet, and ankles. In particular, I’ve noticed the muscles in the lower halves of my calves becoming noticeably stronger, meaning, I am now aware they actually do things.

Like help me balance on one ankle.

For years, I struggled with this balancing standing split, and I thought the problem was in one of the so-called “problem areas” of my body — my hips, my core, my boobs. I had been told this, with varying degrees of certainty, by people who are more generally knowledgeable about yoga and anatomy than I am.

If the explanations — the pose was unattainable because of my body size or fat — had turned out to be true, I would have worked to accept it. But this is not the truth.

The truth is that the more upper areas of my body — my thighs and my core — may have been strong enough for a while and are certainly strong enough now. I feel the change in my lower calves and ankles, the muscles that are now creating the stable base for the pose. While I’m still getting used to this new-found base, I find that I am repeatedly able to hold the pose for a minimum of six to eight breaths — enough to tell me this is not a fluke.

It is possible the “fat parts” of me have been strong enough the entire time. It is possible that the weaker parts were the parts that were made weak by conforming to gendered fashion expectations. It is possible that everything I’ve been told about what the weight of my body “can’t” do is a lie.

No, I don’t expect that’s true for everything I’ve been told, but I welcome the adventure of being proven wrong.

** I think there are relevant philosophical difference between accepting that it’s never going to happen and essentially being told to give up. And I believe learning to accept limitations is a meaningful spiritual practice. However, given the instructor’s tone and the way she treated her older students (i.e., ones with visible wrinkles) and me (the only fat student) throughout the class leads me to believe her intention was the latter.

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.

Thoughts on a Word: Strength

Strength is the outcome of need.

– H.G. Wells, The Time Machine
via The Quotations Page

When I think of strength poses in yoga, I picture poses where the focus is on a large muscle group contraction. I see my quads burning in a long-held warrior II or both sides of my core working against gravity in navasana. I envision asanas where my instinct is to give a lot of active effort.

But effort isn’t necessarily the same thing as strength.

To be sure, strength’s Old English root strengþu means, “power, force, vigor, moral resistance,” which is pretty close to the meaning of effort. That said, the current definition has expanded to include the “capacity for exertion or endurance.” In other words, simply having the capacity for exertion — or force or vigor or effort — can be called strength, whether or not I’m actively calling on it at any given time.

(Strength also often encompasses more than just the physical, but we tend to have other words that address that more directly, so I am holding off.)

Does this change the mental imagery I associate with strength? A little, yes. I mean, I’m not going to stop thinking of vasisthasana as a strength pose simply because it does require a lot of active vigor and muscle contraction. But I do think it makes sense to expand my ideas about strength postures to include (among others):

• pigeon, because sitting with my hips as they first work through and then release tension is pretty much a lesson on “capacity for endurance.”
• hanumanasana, because the strength in my quads and glutes is what lets my hamstrings (in front) and hip flexors (in back) relax.
• bow pose, where judicious use of my arm strength perfectly illustrates the difference between a capacity for exertion and when it is wise to exert.

In yoga, we sometimes talk about the balance of sthira (effort) and sukha (ease). And maybe strength is the cultivating a capacity for both.

Note: Thoughts on a Word series is blatantly stolen — not even just “inspired” — from Autumn Whitefield-Madrano over at The Beheld. If you like the concept, you should definitely check her out.

Core Strengthening: Demi-Lunar Edition

In lateral-reaching poses — like side angle, triangle, and half-moon — even though I try to keep both sides of my torso reaching out, I often feel like my upper side is doing more work. This is especially true if I try to use the lightest touch possible with my bottom hand. What’s happening is that the core muscles in my upper side body — my quadratus lumborum among them — are working eccentrically against gravity to keep me lengthening rather than collapsing into the pose.

My core muscles (especially on my left side) are doing a lot of work here to fight gravity. I show you in triangle pose because I always seem to step out of frame when I do half moon.

Just as that works in triangle, it also works in ardha chandrasana, or half moon pose. (For reference, there’s a discussion of trikonasana here already.) That said, half moon has some additional factors at play that can make the core engagement more difficult:

When first learning ardha chandrasana, I found that using a block — and using a block on a taller height than I strictly “needed” — made finding balance and length in the pose much more attainable. Since core strength (among other things) builds in increments, it made sense to use a prop at first, both to find my alignment and to encourage my muscles to strengthen in a more measured way. I also discovered that the same sacral adjustment demonstrated in the clip in triangle helps open my pelvis in half moon, which creates a straighter and more stable line and in turn makes balancing easier.

Still and all, because more of my body (my torso plus one leg instead of just my torso) is supported on a smaller and less stable base (one foot instead of two), I need my supporting hand much more in half moon than I do in triangle. With ardha chandrasana, I can’t take my fingertips away for more than a second or two. Some days, I just can’t find the strength or the balance, and at least part of my bottom hand touches the entire time.

But even when my intent is to approach this pose as a core strengthener, that’s okay. Because activating my core isn’t dependent on how much of my supporting hand is or is not on the floor. It’s much more about engaging through my core and using it to create lift and length out through both ends of my spine and up through my top arm. And in my experience, feeling that engagement and that length happens far before I see a shape change in myself.