Yoga Journey

I’ve come to embrace activities more than concrete labels in my soul-developing over the years. Among those words and activities is the practice of yoga. Looking back I remember having a conversation about yoga with the ex, ending with his jeering question, something about doing it because I think I’m better than him – it’s such a competitive sport. Although irrelevant, the question led me to examine why I choose to make yoga such a significant element of my charged and chaotic lifestyle. My fondness and engagement with my “practice” deepened subsequently and continues to do so.

Before getting into my yogic journey, here’s my mission statement for doing yoga:

To continuously reinforce holistic, dynamic, strengthening, and pacifying movement into my life in order to balance and enhance my overall well-being. To cross train and keep me solid in other activities. To help me be a more conscious, compassionate, and happy individual and ultimately to share this with others.

My initial motivation for trying yoga was the same I possessed in trying other new things: a test, a different perspective, perhaps a new hobby. I was drawn to the mysterious physical challenges that were said to occur in a relatively mild activity compared to other forms of exercise.

In effort to match my desired outcome with this peace-inducing activity, I followed a friend’s lead to try Bikram yoga – what could be more difficult that forcing your body into knots in a room over 100 degrees for 90 minutes? Expectations were met, even exceeded. Already somewhat strong and flexible, I felt empowered watching so much water leave my body, face redden, hamstrings and lower back ache with effort in class. My chest opened up, releasing new emotions and introducing me to a certain awareness I’d never experienced until then – I actually didn’t even realize this was happening until much later down the road. Not to mention, the reward of being re-birthed into normal temperatures and rinsing off in lavender Dr. Bronner’s. I guess I can say, thanks Bikram Choudry for patenting your incongruent, repetitive class – it stemmed my curiosity for the rest of yoga’s vast realm.

After trying other forms of yoga and feeling extremely bored, I revered Bikram even more because of his strictness and the gratification of seeing myself improve, (since his class never changes) – it’s the same 28 postures each time. Living in the Eastern Sierra and occasionally being trapped in it, I sought exercise in the confines of my shared bedroom. I set up a space heater in front of my mat, closed the door, and sweated away to the Bikram album on my iPod; this was Mr. Choudry himself teaching a full class. I chuckled at his nuanced barking toward students, and felt reassured that not all yogis were pretentious and artificially calm.

Time moved forward, I moved North, spinal fracture in recovery and all. Bikram’s series became redundant (not to mention, there are only so many studios to attend a $30 unlimited first month, common at Bikram’s establishments), so I joined a 24-Hr Fitness in hopes of encouraging my sedentary ex to work out more. Bored by weights and feeling tight, I was fortunate to happen upon an class by Rebecca. Simply called “vinyasa,” on the gym’s group fitness schedule, I had no idea that this class would transform my outlook on yoga (gasp) indefinitely. Her class introduced me to sun salutations, chaturangas, the warrior sequence, and not being in a heated room. At first, I was skeptical, as I took all the sweat and soreness from Bikram as a measure of my hard work and progress. I left Rebecca’s class not feeling swept of the electrolytes in my body, but instead, worked in a more wholesome, encompassing manner. I felt stronger internally and became curious as to how many ways I could (attempt to) put myself into a pretzel without having to heat up the body from an external source. I didn’t feel grimy, I didn’t feel pressured to lock my knees or whatever Bikram preaches (actually very dangerous if you are not flexible enough to do so outside a heated room).

Transformations began to occur drastically in my physiology and mental state. I slept deeper, ran harder, ate more mindfully, almost didn’t notice the sting in my upper back where the fracture was anymore. Funny things like being unable to do a regular pushup- my arms would automatically go in to chaturangas if I tried- began to happen. I would come home and do legs up the wall pose and bridge before bedtime. I’d run 3.5 miles to Rebecca’s class and boom – power up with my newfound love, vinyasa, and run home, almost collapsing upon arriving, but so clear-headed and full of vitality. It was during this time that I realized yoga didn’t slow me down, and I didn’t need it to hurt for it to work. Doing this on a regular basis, like once or twice a week, I realized, would amplify my innate desire to maximize what I get out of life in general. This epiphany only made me more hungry for yoga, and also prompted the desire to give some of the other forms I’d tried before a second chance.

Stay tuned for why the heck I’m writing so much about my “yogic journey.”