The
Mind and Body Duke It Out:
My Experience with Bikram's Beginning Yoga
by Lydsey Watson
I don't know why on February 1st of this year I finally decided to listen
to my body. After 50 years of ignoring her, allowing her to stiffen up and
take on layer upon layer of emotional and physical protection, she loudly
announced one day, "Today is the day we will begin Bikram's
Yoga." I had been hearing about it from a sister of mine for three
years, how they did 26 Hatha Yoga postures in the same sequence every
time, for 90 minutes, in a 95-100 degree heated room. My mind kept
bombarding me with beliefs that kept me from trying it -- such as
"Too hot -- we'll pass out," or "I really can't stand to
sweat," or "Yoga has never helped me," or "You'll make
a fool out of yourself in that room full of Gumbys." On and on and on
and on. My mind's voice usually won the battle -- until February 1. Why? I
guess it doesn't really matter, does it?
Thus began a conversation -- a battle of wills, really -- between my mind
and my body. My first class went much like this:
We walk into the room; heat is blasting out from six space heaters with
the baseboard radiators on full tilt. The thermometer already read 90
degrees. I found a spot in the back row on the "cool" side of
the room, put down my sticky mat, my towel on top and my water and wash
cloth close by. I sit down on my towel to await the unknown, trying not to
look at myself in the mirror which covered the whole wall, sneaking a peek
at other participants, noticing all sorts of body types. I begin to relax
just a little bit, awaiting the unknown.
And then the battle began:
Mind: We still have time to get out. Let's make a run for it now. Hurry!
Already I can't breathe!
Body: I feel okay so far -- quiet down please. Everything will be okay.
Mind: No, this really isn't a good thing. We're 50 years old. This body
will never change now, it's really too late. Let's go, come on, NOW!
Body: Shhhh, here she comes. We will stay.
Mind: Oh, yeah, look at her -- 20 something, perfect 10. Right, I KNEW it.
We're in for it now. Prepare to be mortified!
Body: She looks nice -- she'll help us.
The poses begin and my body responds with much resistance from my mind.
The heat is intense. The teacher tells me to listen to my body (which is
dizzy and nauseous), go slow and just do the best I can and always
breathe. So I do what she tells me. The dialog continues:
Mind: Look at that! Your right leg is too long, you can't put your
left heel on the floor.
That's just terrific! How can you do that posture? Impossible!!!
Body: She said to do the best we can. Our right hip will just have to
support us while our left side settles with gravity. Over time.
Mind: Ow, can't do it. Get us out of here now, girl!
Body: I'll ease up, breathe, stretching now, arms up, straight up -- to
the left, right, back and down.
Mind: Can't keep the arms up that long -- hurt, no blood, everything's
draining out, can't breathe, gonna faint. Arms down right NOW!
The arms come down, just as the teacher is saying to everyone "Keep
the arms up strong -- you can do it! Don't give up." I feel exposed
and embarrassed.
Body: We're okay, now. Arms up again. We can do it. Please help us through
the resistance.
Mind: No, I really don't want to.
Body, Yes, keep going.
Mind: Whew, we did it! Holy smokes we're still breathing, still standing,
still ALIVE!
And on the session went -- I was very stiff but for the most part just did
everything 100% the best I could in the right way, as I was instructed to
do. A few poses were seemingly impossible, but my mind began to let up.
The end came slowly -- but then, the rest period. And my body sank into
the floor, relaxed and so happy. I could hear her voice "Thank you,
thank you so, so much. I feel so goooood!" My mind had quieted down
for the time being.
Until she heard my body two days later saying, "Okay, up and at 'em.
Yoga today!" My mind immediately began to resist ("Are you
kidding me, back to that torture chamber?"), but I went anyway, my
body winning easily. This time at the end of class my mind said "Hey,
it's the end? Really?" She had gone to sleep for much of it, allowing
my body to work her magic. Since then, little triumphs began to
happen. I reached my foot all by myself (without the teacher putting it
into my hand for me) in Standing Bow pose. My rear end touched my heels
sitting Japanese style for the first time since I was a child. I found
myself able to put my sock on without pain in my deteriorated right hip.
These amazing things all the supple-bodied people may tend to take for
granted, I get little tidbits of gratification every time I return. And I
began to cry -- such a marvelous experience of release which it seems few
are able to allow themselves to do; me, I'm the "cry baby" of
the class, a compliment I gratefully accept. Today, I cried for probably
half the class.
But, here I am almost three months later feeling stronger, more relaxed
and clearer. My mind still chimes in now and then (just today with
"Will we EVER be able to grab our toes? Some bodies were just built
wrong, don't you get it yet???") but a gentle reminder from my dear
teachers quiets her down. And I work on forgiveness, focus and breath.
Thank you, Bikram and all the yogis of the ages, for giving me something
that works today. I also know that other forms of yoga can help me even
more in my quest for more comfort and flexibility in my body, but for now
I am gravitating toward this style -- I really can't say why except that
my body knows what it's doing. May I grow in patience with the amazing
body I was given this time around.
____________________
Lyndsey Watson, founder of the River of Song, is a certified
SpiritSong™ teacher and professional singer. She is committed in
her private sessions to helping people find their voice through the
process of spirit singing. Six- to eight- session "song
circles" start up periodically. Monthly "Open Song Circles"
are held on the first Friday of each month. All sessions are held in
her beautiful Song Room overlooking magical Mirror Lake in Wrentham, MA.
She can be reached at 508-384-0655 or by e-mail at songriver@attbi.com.
You can also visit her web site at: www.riverofsong.com. |
