No human is limited

Watching Kipchoge breeze over the finish line was a moment of goosebumps. I watched the videos many times and was thrilled each time. What struck me most was his simple, powerful belief of limitlessness and the keen awareness of his tremendous sadhana. Running is very humbling, like asana. Most of the work is just practice, usually not good enough but then some days there is flight. Like in yoga.

I miss running, the sweat against cool mornings and the regular spade work to chip away at time or distance. It’s nearing 3 years since I had to give it up and sometimes I fantasize about running again. I still remember the touch of the road on my bare feet and the sense of clarity in the zone. Kipchoge says we’re limitless so maybe…

Anyways, maybe it was all the excitement about running that made me wear my marathon tee to practice. I rarely put it on now that I don’t run but Kipchoge reminded me that limitless is possible and asana is that. It was a conversation starter and as I spoke, I realized that that was also me, a hardworking runner who had it in her to train consistently.

I’ve felt ignorant as far as asanas go and thought that practising in the hall might be a bit impostor like for my stage. It’s an irrational thought but one that prevented me from doing many things as part of a group. I ran alone, I practised alone, I studied alone. There’s a saying in the running world, “If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” I didn’t seek speed as much as I sought distance yet I went alone. It’s the same with yoga. I seek depth more than breadth so maybe it is time to be a participant too?

I’ve started to go to the institute for practice on the recommendation of my teacher and it’s a big deal for me. The first couple of times, I ended up practising for an hour before hurrying away. Yesterday, I was present for over an hour and a half, repeating what I had done the previous day. And just like that, practice in a hall full of people felt normal. It reminded me of my early days in the medical class when I did my own routine except that this session is silent save for the sound of props as and when used. At the end of it, I was soaked in sweat and content with the effort. Beginner’s toil.

Friday was twists and I decided to repeat the same in practice. Standing twists tend to irritate my knee a bit but keeping the leg a little bent prevents it from hyper extending. The seated twists are ok with elevation and shorter holds.

It’s always challenging, this class of asanas with their assymetry. The twist happens but the symmetry and length don’t come easy. How does one maintain space and stability of an undisturbed centre even when wringing it? I suppose it must be like the eye of the storm. Twisting poses have enticing benefits of losing inches but that doesn’t interest me as much as the effects on the mind.

As a day, Saturday was an eye opener. I spent time with a health worker in one of the slums and realized what a huge world of difference exists between my world and theirs. I found myself hoping that they too could find the blessings of yoga to cope with their difficult lives. There is much good work happening with primary health care but to make limitless happen, the shifts required are of the heart and mind. Perhaps one day we can see yoga as a way of life right from childhood.

After the showers

I felt lightness after class last evening. It’s been a long time since that kind of a sensation. As I walked out of the institute, there was a tiny spring in my step and my senses felt more alive than they have in a while.

Getting to class is a mix of fear and surrender. Fear of constricting and having tides of tears and surrender when I show up knowing that I’ll be the only one having these spells. I let go into the hands of my teachers and they look after me. I keep wanting to get over this soon so they don’t have to sort me out every other day but I suppose it’s really not in my hands.

The 90 odd minutes I spend in the large hall are 90 minutes of discovery. It’s an active practice despite being propped and helped. None of the passive, watching from my corner kind of practice. Here I am naked, fully stripped of whatever image I held of myself as a collected and calm person. There is nothing save my body and heart and they’re raw. My mortal fear was losing control in public and that has happened so many times here in the middle of so many people. There is nothing left to hide so I avert my eyes.

I shared with my sister about my frequent breakdowns in class and she pointed out that I never cried when different kinds of difficult situations cropped up. That included deaths, illnesses, massive accidents and abuse. Seen in that context, this tearing up is very little considering that this expulsion is about 30 odd years of bottling everything in.

The pragmatist in me would push aside having to deal with difficult feelings and focus on fixing the situation. In fact, in a previous session when the tears flew fast while in a swinging sirsasana, I felt helplessness like the one I experienced as a little girl. I always avoided experiencing the stronger and difficult emotions and focused on the positive. In the bargain, I didn’t learn to walk through feelings that were painful. They were shut in a box and pushed out of memory.

All these days, anything that had to do with opening the chest area just dislodged heaves of sorrow. It still comes but yesterday was less difficult. In one of the poses, my legs started to tremble for no apparent reason. Through the duration of that pose, I felt ironlike stubbornness of unshed tears and the rigidity of control. Pockets of tightness in different places that had been solidified by years of pride in being resilient and self-sufficient. The high point of the session was after cycles of being helped in and out of sirsasana – vipareeta dandasana repeatedly. It felt good. I didn’t know my body had the capacity to do that. Maybe one has to lose everything to start finding oneself.

There were moments of tears, tightness and tremors. But, there were also moments of something else. Newness, maybe? Considering the rains and lush green all around, I’m thinking green shoots after heavy showers.

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New shoot of a Calla Lily in my balcony after the rains

In gratitude