One morning, about a year ago, I took out my yoga mat, located
it on the living floor, and prepared to do a headstand. At this point in my
yoga practice, I had attempt to master a dozen headstands, finding each new
attempt as painful as the previous. Upon seeking advice from my teacher, it was
relayed I should remain present and scrutinize my body’s response in the pose. given
that it was not regular to practice headstands in my program I decided to start
practicing at home.
As I lifted myself into position, I felt a pulse discomfort
in my neck, shoulders and lower back. I tried my best to stay with the
sensations of my body but was only able to maintain the pose for a couple of
minutes. After I slowly lower my now-aching body, I rested in child’s pose as I
focused my awareness on the blood flowing down from my head and into the rest
of my body. at what time I could lift it without getting dizzy, I moved up into
downward dog. I felt stiff but didn’t think too much about it. Instead, I
stayed in the pose, listen to my body. Finally, I ended my home practice with a
short savasana and called it a day.
For the next few weeks, my daybreak routine modeled the
exact same sequence. Since these sessions lasted less than ten minutes, it was
quite easy to keep up my home practice. Bit by bit, I became more comfortable
in the headstand position. Although my carry out sessions focused on salamba
sirasana, I started to notice my downward dog experience had become completely poles
apart than it was in class.
Downward dog, also recognized as Adho mukha svanasana, was
one of the first yoga poses that I ever learned. In every yoga class I’ve
taken, it’s shown up in single sequence or another. In my vinyasa classes, we
practiced it as part of our sun salutations. In between vigorous sequences, my
teacher would use adho mukha svanasana as a rest pose. I possibly will hear her
asking me to press the base of my fingers firmly into the ground to strengthen
my arms. Then she would suggest I lift my tailbone away from the back of my
pelvis. After I did my best to follow her directives, I would diligently hold
the pose until she ask the class to come out of it.
At home, however, there was no management or a mentor to
direct me successfully into the pose. I tried to recall all the different
instructions my teacher had given me for sliding dog. Unfortunately, I could
only remember three of them. It felt foreign to have no one leading me in my
practice as if I wasn’t present in my own body. In an effort to feel more
connected to the pose, I bent my knees and straightened them. Then I lifted my
fingertips off the earth and brought them back down again. Luckily for me, this
worked. I slowly ongoing to feel that I was back in my body again. From then
on, these movements become a ritual for me whenever I did descending dog at
home.
After weeks of daily practice, something quite unusual
occurred. While I was in downward dog focusing on my breath, my left foot
unexpectedly lifted off the ground and inched itself slightly to the left.
Then, my right foot moved slightly towards the right. As a result of these two
adjustments, my hips loosened, my groin softened, and I moved deeper into my
body. Each movement in itself was very small, almost microscopic, but the
change that ensued was dramatic. I felt more energetic and, paradoxically,
relaxed. It had never occurred to me to adjust my pose without the guidance of
my teacher, but now that I had done it, I was excited to experiment more. In
the following practice sessions, I continued to make changes to my downward
dog. These adjustments didn’t always improve my pose, but once in a while, they
did.
Over the past year, my home practice has been in a constant
state of flux. Most of the time my practice lasts thirty to forty minutes.
Occasionally I spend an hour practicing asanas and follow it with thirty
minutes of pranayama. On some days, I have a definite plan as to what I want to
practice, but usually, I have no idea what poses I will incorporate until they
emerge from me on the mat. I don’t know if I do a better downward dog today
than I did a year ago, but I do have a better understanding of my practice.
Having a regular home practice gave me the much-needed space
and time to experience myself. I could hear my thoughts and see how my body
responded to them. My curiosity led me to experiment with the asanas and
explore different ways of doing them. While I continue to take classes and look
forward to working with teachers, practicing at home has allowed me to take
full responsibility for my own practice and to make it my own. In doing so, I
saw not only the richest of what yoga had to offer me, but also what I had to
offer to myself.
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