Breathe and try...

in ,

Last week, after a class she wasn’t even teaching, I asked Miranda what I could do about my balance. I’d asked her once before and she told me to see her sometime after class.

Jeffrey Bikram testimonial.jpg

I chose this particular class - one she hadn’t even taught, and one I
had barely muddled through - to ask her. I figured she might provide a
correction, or one of those on-the-fly-demonstrations she does, but no,
she offered me a karma class. She said she could see me trying (I call
it struggling) and thought I could benefit from a one-on-one.

Now this was Miranda (and we all know about the rainbows, sunshine, and unfettered magic she seems to bring to our space) but it was not the only time a SSHY teacher has offered help. Alexis and Heather, right from the start, were quick to make suggestions. Ivanka has pulled me to the side and tried to convince me of a better way, Jenn has continually shared knowledge and support, as has Vicky and Billie (who, even before she was stamped with the Bikram seal of approval, had suggestions on
ways of coping).

I know this advice is shared freely, not just with me but also anyone
who walks through the doors. As we lay in the final Savasana and every
teacher offers the parting words ‘/If you have any questions or need a
little help, come and see me up front’/, they really mean it.

Posture by posture, Miranda provided adjustments and advice I can
already feel working its way through my thick skull. I say this in as
much of what she had to offer I have heard before, basically in every
class. The beauty of the Bikram dialogue is that it reinforces the
movement of each posture. Miranda was telling me what I had heard
before, time and again. In fact, I thought I was already doing some of it.

For example, the major ‘thing’ I took out of the session was a greater
concentration on breathing. Pretty basic, yes, but it seems in all the
pulling and locking and stretching and pushing, I neglected doing what
should come naturally.

Keep breathing; it is something every instructor, in every class,
reminds us to do. Breathe. So I had heard it before and I thought I was
doing it, but obviously I wasn’t listening.

I’ve often said that all yoga asks is that you breathe and try. Not only
was I not listening to my teachers, I wasn’t listening to myself.

So, on Miranda’s advice, I now enter the class with the mantra /I’m
going to breathe for/ /90 minutes today/. Again pretty simple, yes, but
oh how effective. Breathe. Of course there is the 80/20 (and I’m working
on the where and when) but for the most part I strive to keep breathing,
normally, and not hold my breath in certain postures.

Breathing: I could even call it my stumbling block. It slays me that
every class I hear the same thing but it wasn’t until last week it made
sense.

Call it the power of listening, or the power of persuasion, but I have
the feeling it may be the true power of yoga. It comes to you not when
you want it to, or not when you need it, but perhaps only when you are
ready.

-jeffrey-

 

 

 

 

Hot yoga testimonial: Countering a lifetime of bad habits

in
Jeffrey Bikram testimonial.jpg


I looked up from my runny eggs at Salisbury House and across to Stafford Street Hot Yoga. I’d never noticed the place before, but I’d never been looking for it. My daughter had been doing hot yoga somewhere else, and raved about it, but I gave it little thought; no more thought than yoga in general. Really how much exercise could it be? You pretty much stayed in one place . . . on a mat.

It was one of those windy December mornings where the idea of any hot room had a certain appeal, and purposefully standing on a mat was probably more exercise than I’d had in a while. I had regularly managed to drag myself down to Sal’s for a greasy breakfast, so it’s not like a walk to the studio would be difficult.

I pulled on the studio’s door, figuring I could ask a few questions and probably talk myself out of this crazy idea. Hot yoga? Really? Me? The door was locked. Apparently they were replacing the floor with some revolutionary material. How could an ‘exercise’ that seemed to involve little movement require special flooring? Yeah, I was skeptical, even suspicious. . . okay, a little curious. Curious enough to visit the website.

Now maybe it was Amanda’s video presentation, along with all the information provided, but there seemed to be a lot more to hot yoga than I’d imagined. I had no idea there were even several types of hot yoga, but this Bikram guy seemed to have it all figured out. The information - on the website and through its links - talked about lowering blood pressure, increasing circulation, and stretching the body and the mind; holistic improvements, all done with 26 poses, in 90 minutes, at 40 degree temperature in 40 per cent humidity. 50 bucks was the cost of an unlimited introduction.

I’d thrown away $50 on crazier ideas before.

I thought more, I read more, and December 12 was approaching. You had to do something substantial on 12/12/12 didn’t you? I did. After guzzling more than the recommended amount of water, I walked down on the Wednesday.

I was shown the room (later referred to as the ‘torture chamber’), offered a brief introduction, and was told listen and watch the mirror if I felt out of place.

This was my first yoga class, my first hot yoga class. I was the fat guy in the bathing suit.

I sort of made it through my first class. I know I got a bit dizzy and did come to appreciate the dead body pose. I did listen. I did drink a lot of water. And did I sweat! I was told not get discouraged, and just to keep trying.

I kept trying. I went, three days in a row. I was sore; parts of my body had no idea they could, or should, stretch like that. By day four I bought yoga shorts – yes, I finally had a reason to step into Lululemon.

My daughter once told me that if you do something for seven days straight it becomes a habit. I went eight days, just to remind myself what a habit could be (at least a good one). Actually, aside from an appointment I couldn’t get out of and the fact the studio was closed for Christmas day, I managed 15 classes in December. I stayed in the room
for all off them.

I used to think that some vigorous walking could provide me with a bit of exercise. Hardly. I knew I was out of shape but didn’t realize how badly. Hot yoga reminded me where I was. It was not good. Each day though, it got better. I could feel it physically, and mentally as well. I was sleeping better, I was eating better, and I was feeling better,
overall. My blood pressure had dropped.

By mid-January, as my 30-day unlimited was coming to a close, I decided if I felt this good on fifty bucks, a hundred dollars wasn’t a bad price to pay for feeling better. I bought the automatic monthly renewal and kept going. I read a brief in Reader’s Digest that said it takes 66 days for a habit to become fully entrenched. So that was my goal, past January and well into February.

There were aches and pains, more than a few struggles, illness, missed days where the snooze button provided a convenient excuse, and I left the room a few times more than I ought to have. Still, for the most part, I kept coming back.

I do the best I can, working to get my postures to the 90 percent level 90 per cent of the time. Some postures I’ve gotten pretty good at; Half Moon and my Rabbit (you know, the towel trick) is not too bad, and I’ve become very accomplished at Savasana. Balance remains an issue for me; I mean really, think of the last time you had to meaningfully stand on one leg for any length time in real life (let alone trying to twist the
other leg into a less than convenient pose)? It had to have been decades since I even tried, but I keep trying, and each day I feel an improvement (and still keep trying to twist that other leg).

I discovered a lot about myself. I found it’s not easy to tame a restless mind for 90 minutes, and that aspiring yogis (apparently I now fall into that category) come in all shapes and sizes, in all ages. I witnessed how even those contortionists who continue to amaze me also take a knee, or a break in Savasana, now and then. I discovered my
clothes fit better now, and that your shins do actually sweat (no, it’s not runoff, the pores open and they sweat). I’ve discovered that in a lifetime of bad habits, a good one can still rise to the surface, if you allow it.

I suppose, among so many things, I’ve learned that hot yoga is mostly about letting go - especially of all those pre-conceived notions - and allowing your mind and muscles to go to places forgotten. It’s about accepting yourself and discovering meditation is not so much a solitary thing, but rather a state you can arrive at in a roomful of strangers.
By accepting the struggle in the room, you are better able to deal with the turmoil in your life.

By this time I’ve heard about other types of hot yoga, and other places to practice, but I really have no reason to look elsewhere, or see if something is better for me. It’s about feeling comfortable where you are. It goes past SSHY’s skilled and supportive instructors, to the people you see on a regular basis in the same hot room. Many of them I still don’t know, any more than to say hello or smile, and still they offer encouragement, a little advice or insight and inspiration. It’s a common ground where everybody, all ages and shapes, leave the ego at the door. Every one of us is doing the same 26 postures, and doing what is best for them. As much as it is a group class, it is very much an individual thing.

So yoga, hot yoga, I do it; even so much as to say I have a yoga practice. Yesterday I completed my 100^th class, and today I’m beginning a challenge (as if the past months have not been challenging). I’m looking forward to the next 100 classes. Bikram’s Hot Yoga has become a habit – dare I say an addiction - and there is so much more to learn, so much more to endure, and so much more to enjoy.

Namaste

Jeffrey Lewis

Practicing My Yoga Practice

in ,

By SSHY student Norah

"You can grow flowers from where dirt used to be."
- Kate Nash, 'Merry Happy'

"I attended a free yoga class that Amanda taught at Lululemon in early 2011 and was blown away by her talent, knowledge, and compassion. I wanted to learn from her. It took me a few months to summon the courage to try hot yoga because I didn’t think I would be able to do it well. I am physically impaired and I struggle with everything yoga demands of a person: flexibility, agility, stability, strength, and stamina. I attended my first Bikram yoga class in May of the same year and it was a boost of detoxifying and peaceful energy. I attended a few more classes sporadically throughout the summer but found that I compared myself to other people too often. It was difficult to leave my ego at the door. I did not make my practice consistent until I decided to take on Amanda’s Rejuvenation Challenge in February of 2012. I attended twenty-five of the thirty classes and was tested in every possible way. I expected (and
wanted) the challenge to show me a linear progression in my ability with the poses, but I found myself on a physical and emotional rollercoaster.

I would have a few tough and humbling classes, then have a comparatively ‘easier’ or ‘better’ class, and then the next few classes would be hard again. There were some days where I felt I nearly fell into the bow pose on the floor and other days where I couldn’t even stretch far enough to grab my feet. On my fifth day of the challenge, I experienced the first of three consecutive pain free days. I had been in chronic pain for nearly three years, and just four yoga classes in a row gave me an unbelievable reprieve. I’d forgotten what it felt like to live without pain. The ache has since returned and practicing yoga helps relieve it, but for those three days I felt like I was free of an abusive relationship.

Two thirds of the way through the challenge, I had a frustrating class and wanted to cry. I lay on my back thinking, ‘I want to cry but I can’t cry. The tears aren’t there.’ A few days later, something inside me broke. I finished class in tears. I went into the change room and, as I was getting changed into my street clothes, I started to cry harder. A couple of minutes later, everything hit me all at once and I sat down and sobbed. I’d been carrying around so much frustration, resentment, sadness, worry, depression and exhaustion. I had tried to keep everything to myself and deal with it alone. Yoga finally forced the feelings out of me. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, but I surrendered to the moment and bawled. I went home and cried for another hour and a half, but I knew then that I’d needed it.

Just before the challenge ended, I had the best yoga class I’d ever had because I shifted my expectations and stopped berating myself when I couldn’t do the poses to their full or correct extent. I realized I had to stop fighting against the limitations of my impairment and work with and through them instead, so I stopped equating ‘I can’t do this pose correctly or as deeply as other people can’ with ‘I’m a bad person’ and the entire class was better and easier. I decided to apply this paradigm shift to every yoga class and every other form of exercise I do.

Five days after the challenge ended, I went to England for the first time in nearly two years to visit friends I’d made in graduate school. Four people whom I met up with told me that my walk was better, I carried myself with more assuredness and confidence and I seemed happier.  I will definitely take on another challenge in the coming months. I still don’t feel that I am very ‘good’ at yoga, but the challenge helped me realize that I can develop a consistent practice that I can maintain for life. Self-care isn’t a matter of endgame. It’s about well-being and holistic happiness every day."

- Norah, Winnipeg, MB