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 Strengthening: Psoas

Another supine posture that’s somewhat reminiscent of wind-relieving pose (see how I was mature there and did not say fart pose?), this version involves movements that strengthen the psoas muscle:

(Video from corewalking via YouTube.)

For me, this series is less about the movements being physically difficult for my core and more about using them as a way to gain awareness of what the muscles in my core — in this case, my psoas muscles in particular — are doing. My psoas muscles are strong enough to perform the work in this series, but my erector spinae in that area are used to being recruited when there’s pull on the psoas, so that’s what they want to do here. It’s not a strong impulse, but it’s consistently present.

Don’t lie. You’ve missed my stick figure drawings.

I find it necessary to keep my hands on my hip points during this series. I’m not pressing down on my pelvis because I want to make sure my core muscles are the ones holding my core. Rather, keeping my hands there — at least right now, when I’m trying to develop awareness — gives me good feedback about what is moving, what is stable, and what wants to be working in my core.

Plus, you know, after I am done, I’m all set up to stretch my psoas in fart pose.

This isn’t the title I remember.

This post discusses domestic violence.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

I should write.

I’m scared to write. (Of memories, not for anything happening in my life now.)

I thought of copying a story I wrote years ago. It’s good; it’s relevant.

I can’t find what I did with the computer copy.

I found a handwritten copy in a composition book. It’s the story, but this isn’t the title I remember. Which may mean this is a working copy, or it may mean I remember the working title better than the final.

The date tells me it’s not the first draft. And the opening line confirms, unerringly, that this is the right story. A decade later, that line still haunts me.

But I know this isn’t going to be a simple matter of cut and paste. My writing then wasn’t as strong as my writing now, and this is possibly not even the strongest version of my writing then.

I’m going to have to re-read this story. I’m going to have to re-work it, re-write it, re-live it. It’s going to be especially awkward in a blog because odds are good I will go back to edit at least one post days after I make it.

And it’s going to hurt.

But that’s okay. Because the hurt is in the past and the awkwardness is inconvenience and what matters now is that it’s a story worth telling.

And it is.

Core Stretching: Fart Pose

I do understand that pavanamuktasana’s more accurate English translation is “wind-relieving pose,” but really:

1. Brace yourself for the big secret: “Wind-relieving” is actually a euphemism for farting.
2. Would not all of yoga be better if we had a posture we called “fart pose”?

From a core perspective, fart pose — okay, fine, “wind-relieving pose” — is a supported way to stretch the psoas. It also has a variety of modifications, which I’ll get to in a minute:

[Video by Moksha Yoga via YouTube.]

Essentially, because the muscles of the extended leg are working to keep that leg on the ground, the action is the same as if that hip were extending behind the torso. This is why keeping the extended leg active is actually really important to the posture.

Maybe for a clearer visual, when I do it, my extended-leg quadriceps (and to a lesser extent, my glutes on that side) are contracting to keep my leg on the ground. If I contracted those same muscles while standing, that hip and leg would start to extend back behind me. The resulting action on the psoas is that the psoas on the extended leg lengthens and stretches to some degree. How intense that stretch feels will depend on the individual body, and even on the individual leg: it’s not at all uncommon for a muscle on one side of the body to be noticeably tighter or looser than the corresponding muscle on the other side.

For some people the version of the stretch shown above will be just right. For others — or for those same people having different kinds of days — there are modifications. (For modifications I might miss here, the first link in this post details some good ones as well.)

• If the first version of the pose is too intense for the extended leg, it’s okay to bend that extended leg a little or a lot until the stretch feels okay. Over time, if the hip flexors on the extended leg are accommodating, you’ll be able to move that leg from bent toward less bent toward straight.
• If it’s difficult to clasp the shin — sometimes true for folks whose arms are on the shorter side or torso and thighs are on the thicker side — you can use a yoga strap (or yoga-strap-like-object) across the shin or clasp over the hamstrings instead. I’ve also heard from folks with knee problems that they sometimes prefer holding the hamstrings as well in order to relieve any pressure on the bent knee.
• If you’re not getting quite enough psoas stretch through an active extended leg, you can try raising the arm on that side (so, left leg extended and left arm extended) along the ground above your head for a little added intensity.

If you’re still not getting a noticeable psoas stretch from wind-relieving fart pose, no worries: We’ll explore some different stretches later in the series.

Clearly, I am overtired and need to go to bed. Because fart pose.

Aesthetics

But it has nothing to do with aesthetics, so we all but miss it in every single workout.

– Bryan Kest (via my memory), talking about the psoas muscle during navasana in one of his Power Yoga DVD practices

I may not have every word right, but the basic sentiment is accurately portrayed. And whether a lot of people are particularly likely to need psoas strengthening, the idea, I think, applies to physical fitness more broadly.

First, and this is applicable to my psoas, I tend to ignore stretching some muscles that don’t directly affect my appearance — or that I don’t think of as directly affecting my appearance. For example, I know I have some stiffness in the muscles along the sides of my ribcage. While I do make an effort to stretch them at least a little each day, I’ve never sequenced an asana practice to target the release of those muscles. One part of the reason for that is because my tightness there, while not comfortable, doesn’t really affect the aesthetic shape of my body.

Contrast that with the muscle tightness I feel across the front of my shoulders and chest. Not only have I sequenced personal practices specifically to open up that area of my body, but I’ve also attended a number of classes and used a myriad of videos with the same stated purpose. In some of those instructional practices, the teacher brought in the idea of aesthetics. Having a tight chest and shoulders can contribute to back pain, yes, but I’ve also witnessed plenty of yogis demonstrate the hunched shoulders and rounded spine and remark on how that isn’t very attractive.

Although I’m not sure I’d “all but miss” my heart center if it weren’t a factor in creating what I consider an aesthetically pleasing line to my body, I can’t deny that aesthetics plays some role in the muscles I choose to stretch.

Similarly, aesthetics also plays a role in the muscles I choose to strengthen. Regular readers might have noticed my recent-ish (in the grand scheme of my practice) fascination with feet. For the past few years, I’ve experienced intermittent foot pain in my standing postures. I chalked this up to my foot anatomy and the increasing frequency, duration, and physical intensity of my asana practices, deciding it must be a side effect that comes with the territory. Until I stumbled on the idea online — while researching another topic only tangentially related — it had never even occurred to me that I could stretch and strengthen the muscles in my feet — the way I did the rest of my body — so they’d be better able to support me in standing poses.

Again, I don’t think aesthetics is the only force at play here, but if it were my butt or thighs hurting in the postures? I probably couldn’t avoid knowing how to strengthen or tone those if I wanted to. However, strong, supple feet are really not a showcase image in most people’s conceptualization of the aesthetic ideal.

But it goes deeper — or maybe broader — than that. Recently, the blog Living ~400lbs posted The Fitness Question, asking readers if the benefits of exercise would be worth it if they never lost weight. Weight loss is only one aspect of aesthetics, but I sometimes wonder if there’s a similar principle at play on a grander scale — that is, if a major motivator in people’s exercise habits is the hope or expectation that it will help them to look a certain way.

The expectation can take a number of forms; “tone” is one I hear often — that regular exercise will increase the appearance of muscle definition (which may or may not include muscle mass) while decreasing the appearance of surface fat. Of course this doesn’t happen with every body: on mine, the muscles arrive where they will, but the surface fat that’s always been there I now acknowledge as a permanent fixture of my form.

I also sometimes interpret “tone” as “flexibility” — that is, a truly toned muscle will stretch as well as contract. For a long time, I hung on the hope that if I toned and stretched my muscles enough, I’d eventually develop the flexibility to get into every single yoga asana (or at least every asana a teacher might reasonably demonstrate in class). It took some study of anatomy and even more self-study to understand that:

1. There’s more to it than that. Bone shapes, sizes, and angles vary widely — and they also play a significant role in what a particular asana looks like — not to mention how it feels — for any given individual’s body.
2. Sometimes — like in the case of arm binding — regardless of muscle flexibility or the shape of my spine or shoulders, it ain’t ever gonna happen, at least not in a way that is beneficial for me.

Of course it’s good to use anatomical- and self-knowledge to determine what’s causing any particular limitation and whether it’s helpful or harmful to try to push a given edge. And in the course of that determination, it’s empowering to recognize the pressure (from self or society) to strive for a particular aesthetic and to name that hangup for what it is.

There are aspects of movement, meditation, and health that have nothing to do with aesthetics. It’s a rewarding challenge to find the space for them.

Psoas… So What?

I’ve known the basics of the psoas muscle for a while, but I have to admit, I’ve only given significant personal thought to it fairly recently.

For folks who are new to this whole psoas business, the psoas is basically the deepest core muscle. It originates in the lowest thoracic vertebra and each vertebrae in the lumbar spine. Then it crosses to the front of the body across the pelvis, where it attaches to the femur. In stick figure visual terms, like this:

The main function of the psoas muscles — there’s one on each side — is to flex the hips. They also play a role in externally rotating the femur in the hip socket and in laterally bending the spine.

Why does the psoas matter? A lot of our daily motions — sitting, walking, running — involve hip flexion and therefore the contraction of the psoas muscles. Fine and good, except in cases where the psoas becomes too tight, which is not so uncommon. This can lead to a shortening of the muscle, anterior pelvic tilt, and low back compression — any or all of which could create or exacerbate pelvic or low back pain.

Pelvic or low back pain.

Wait. I might know someone like that.

In the grand scheme of all psoas muscles ever, I don’t think mine are extraordinarily tight, based on my experiences with some postures I will detail in future posts. I don’t think my psoas is the primary cause of my low back and pelvic pain. However, based on that same asana awareness, I do think there’s some tightness there, and I couldn’t guarantee that said tightness isn’t compounding pain from another source.

For balance, of course, I’ll also be on the lookout for psoas strengthening exercises, but this step of the core series will primarily focus on awareness, exploration, and stretching.

Poetry Break: This Deserves a Signal Boost

[TW rape culture]

“Snow White and Sleeping Beauty Address Their Creator”

It’s one of those days when I can’t let myself have more to say about it.

But I’m glad I watched it. Not surface-glad, because it is not a happy poem. But deep-glad, because it’s something that needs to be said, loudly and often.

Thoughts on a Chakra: Svadhisthana

(Lucille Clifton reading her poem “homage to my hips.” Found via YouTube. Text available here at Poem Hunter.)

These hips are full of scar tissue.
They need movement to
keep from seizing up.
They don’t tolerate being told to
stay still. These hips
hold my tension and trauma.
They don’t like to let it go.
These hips have nerve damage.
They don’t always go where I want them to go
or do what I want them to do.
These hips are capricious hips.
These hips are caustic hips.
I have known them
to burn me from inside and
drop me in my tracks.