Getting to Know the Body

One of my favorite parts of Yoga Teacher Training was learning anatomy. As I have mentioned before, I am an academic at heart, and anatomy, to me, is the “heady” side of yoga. At some level, it is vital to understand anatomy to teach yoga, and at another level, it is even more vital to intuitively understand the body. The anatomy training was fascinating, and it really helped me understand and explain what I had intuitively known, such as why sitting is bad for us.

As much as I loved the anatomy, I did not get as into it as even I would have liked. I can tell you a little bit about the trapezius muscles, and a little bit about the biceps and triceps, but at the end of the day, I do not know much about them. I have never fully experienced them. But I could probably write you a tome on the piriformis, its relationship to the gluteus muscles, and how all of them relate to our back muscles. I even learned about the quadratus lumborum muscles. And this is all because I have been experiencing these muscles, and their relationship to the sciatic nerve, for months, perhaps years.

I am starting to realize there is more to the body than meets the eye. Looking back over this blog, I had a “hamstring injury” during yoga teacher training. With the benefit of hindsight, that very well may not have been a hamstring injury. Instead, it may have been the first signs of an impinged sciatic nerve. For most people, that simply goes away. For me, it became a huge herniated disc and back surgery. But at the time I just assumed I had pushed my hamstring muscles too far. 

Pain forces us to pay attention. Whether it is a moment of pain that allows us the opportunity to stop pushing too far, or pain that continues for months or even years, we learn to stop and listen. Pain is our body's way of saying something is wrong. Sometimes it is easy to figure out what that is, such as when we simply push too far and need to back off. Sometimes the pain continues on, and we have no idea why that is.

And that is when we start exploring.

I have spent hours and hours reading about the illio-psoas, the piriformis, the quadratus lumborum, the sciatic and femoral nerves, and the spine. Our bodies are an amazing network of muscle, nerve, and fascia. And on top of all of that, we hold memories in our bodies, and those memories affect how the body itself operates and the pain we feel.

Prior to experiencing this for myself, I sort of understood. I understood that our bodies are fascinating and intricate and difficult. But I did not fully understand. To fully understand anything, we have to experience it for ourselves. Interestingly, people have always said the same thing to me about lawyering. As someone who loves theory and research, I have had no less than the top researchers in the field tell me I need practical experience to be a better researcher.

The old saying is that practice makes perfect. I would suggest that instead, practice makes understanding. Sometimes that is understanding we want. When it comes to pain, we may not want it as much. But there is no question that we can learn from it either way. I feel like I can now picture my psoas and how it attaches to the spine and the thigh bone.

In many ways, pain is the ultimate form of experience. It is experience we cannot ignore. We can sometimes mask it with medication, but generally, if the medication is used as a mask, the pain returns. Pain has a way of literally stopping us in our tracks and forcing us to take note of where we are. I cannot say that is fun, but it is an opportunity to learn and a way to experience on the deepest levels of our bodies.

As someone who has spent so much time in my head, both in yoga and the law, my body is forcing me to experience in ways I never could have imagined. That experience may not be coming in the form I would have chosen, but I am also learning more about the body and how it works than I ever could have without this experience.

How have you been forced to experience the body? What have you learned as a result?

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

Information Overload

Have you ever noticed those numbers and items that seem to follow you everywhere? My birthday is January 10, and I swear I see the number 110 everywhere (for those of you not from the United States, we put the month first and then the year). I got a herniated disc and sciatica, and all of a sudden I see pain management centers on every corner and people are telling me their back problem stories.

And just this week, snakes seemed to be everywhere. This is the Chinese year of the snake, and one day, I was talking to some people about a scary snake experience, and then I went to see someone else who handed me a plastic snake. Then the following day, I was at someone’s house, and the wall hanging had snakes on it. And I have a cousin who sees the number 613 everywhere.

Where does this phenomenon originate? I know this happens to other people.

Many of us think our brains are about bringing in information. The opposite, however, is true. Our brains are really just filters. If we actually processed everything that we receive, we would go mad. In one sense, then, our brains our simply filtering out the things that do not fit our preconceived notions of what follows us around. For example, I see a lot of numbers every day, but I only pay attention when the number is 110.

Many people have begun calling this time in history, the information age. We can get any information anytime we want. Some people have pointed out this means we do not need to remember as much information. I mean, why do we have to remember if google is always at our fingertips? But that also means there is so much information we can get lost amidst it.

Here is the information I have been getting for while I am still in pain: 1) the surgeon has no idea; 2) the acupuncturist says it is a kidney blood deficiency; 3) the chiropractor says it is emotional; 4) another acupuncturist agrees about the emotions; 5) some say it is inflammation, and I need a cortisone shot; 6) some say I just need a prolozone shot; and 7) the physical therapist has simply given up after trying to work on my back and legs. Oh, and of course there has been the foam roller suggestion (yes, it’s awesome, and yes it hurts more than anything!). And I listened to all of them.

We look to others who have expertise in certain areas, and of course, when your only tool is a hammer, all you ever see are nails. We ignore all the other information for that which makes the most sense to us, or that which seems to follow us everywhere we go. And that is useful and necessary . . . to a point. At some point, we have to stop taking in so much information from the outside and look to the inside for the information that will be most beneficial. The answer is not always 110 just because I happen to notice it everywhere I go.

And I recognize I am talking (typing?) out of both sides of my mouth. The first step is to stop zeroing in and seeing only one piece of information, that which follows us around. The second part is to stop trying to make sense of the information coming from a variety of sources limited in the same ways we are – sharing their nails with us. And at some point we have to listen to the information within ourselves.

Not just our brains are really great filters, though there is no question, many of us get caught up in our minds and forget the rest of ourselves. But it is those moments we check in with ourselves that we learn the most, and the most healing can occur. Because our bodies know what information to share with us. Our bodies can tell us what we need, not what someone else thinks we need.

There is no doubt learning from the experts is important. They help us understand all the possibilities, and the more information we have the more we can then filter through. But at some point, we have to stop taking in all the information there is. We have to stop googling every possible avenue. And we have to start listening to the one person who knows what works for us.

We live in a world of information overload. It is so easy to get caught up in always trying to get all the information. It is incredibly interesting, helpful, and important. But there is only so much we can take. Those little nuggets that follow us around are proof that we like consistency, we like filters, and we like to leave out some information sometimes.

Yoga is a lot about letting go. Someone once explained bodywork (energy work) as downloading information into the computers that are our bodies/minds. If we think about ourselves that way, yoga is a chance to let go of the information we do not need anymore, the information that is getting in the way of the information that will be most useful to us.

Do you ever notice information overload in your life? How do you finally stop it? What numbers and items show up all the time in your life? Are they trying to teach you something?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved. 

Two Years Away

Two years ago, I was in Christchurch, New Zealand on the day the city was leveled by an earthquake. It was one of the most unsettling experiences of my life. As I mentioned last year on the earthquake anniversary, it took me almost a month to realize the earthquake left me in some sort of shock. But what I did not realize then is that the shock, in many ways, remains.

Just yesterday, I was at work, and I heard a crash. I live in Tucson. There are no earthquakes here (though we did have snow yesterday, so perhaps anything is possible these days). But when I heard that crash, I jumped inside. There is a bridge in Tucson that always shakes when you drive on it, and I drive over it nearly every single day. Sometimes I still flinch when I feel it shaking. I am starting to realize that earthquake has never left me.

We live in a world where we are told to just get over it. When something does not go our way, we are expected to just move right along as though nothing happened. But our bodies respond differently. Our bodies remember. This is why yoga is such a powerful tool. It reaches into our bodies and exposes that which we have been holding for days, months, or even years at a time.

Consciously I do not live in fear of another earthquake hitting, certainly not in Tucson. But those moments when I jump from a shake are reminders of how deeply embedded memories are in our bodies. While we can consciously attempt to forget certain things that happen in our lives, we cannot escape them fully until we go into the body.

The last post talked about support. An earthquake is the antithesis of support. Earthquakes shake us to our very core. But we all get shaken like that even when we are not experiencing the Earth below us moving. And those crises, or traumas, stay with us. But something as simple as a child’s pose, as discussed in the last post, can be a start to overcoming that trauma.

And then, of course, the breath. In those moments when we are reminded of whatever shook us, we can always come back to the breath and remember that the trauma is not reoccurring. Instead, it is our memory of it. And we can breathe through those moments.

Today, my heart goes out to Christchurch. I learned so much from that city, from that experience. And if my infrequent, unconscious reactions are any indication, the city has not left me yet. The theme in Christchurch after the earthquake was, “Rise up Christchurch.” I know it still has a long way to go, but that theme is an inspiration. From the depths of destruction, the people of Christchurch decided to come together and create a new and evolved city. I am forever grateful to the lessons I learned in Christchurch, even when they take me a bit by surprise.

Have you noticed how you hold memories in your body? What do you do about them?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

Intellectualizing the Body

Yoga, as practiced in the West, is a physical practice. I have expressed before my difficulties coming to terms with this vision of yoga. After all, yoga in its origins is so much more than a physical practice. The very beginning of the Yoga Sutras tells us that Yoga is a calming of the mind. Less than five of the yoga sutras are dedicated to the physical asana practice.

And yet over and over again I am reminded that one of the greatest benefits of yoga is the physical practice. As the first of the koshas, the physical body is the entry into our deeper selves. It is through our bodies that we enter our souls. As we learn to understand our bodies, our vehicles for this Earth, we understand our deeper being-ness. But in order for it to be that entryway, we must actually feel it. We must experience it.

That’s the tough part!

If it is not abundantly obvious from the fact that I decided to go for an additional year of law school to get my master’s degree and from the fact that I write a blog about yoga (which is arguably not necessarily doing yoga), I love learning and thinking. The very first time I ever went to see a non-western doctor (healer, energy worker, pick a term), he informed me that I live about 97% in my head and about 3% in my body. I have no idea where he got those numbers, and I have not seen him in over 8 years, but his statement stuck with me.

I over think everything. Rather than truly experience, I want to understand with my mind.

As humans, there are a few things that set us apart. Our prefrontal cortex is on that list. It is, after all, that which takes us out of our reptilian instincts and provides us with rational thought. We honor great thinkers, and the greatest number of likes on the Is Yoga Legal facebook page always come from interesting and insightful quotes. The shorter the better, of course. We like to think, but facebook is not the place for deep thoughts, apparently.  

More than just thinking, in the modern world, we actually try to not feel. We take pills when we feel pain. We take pills when we feel sad. We drink caffeine and alcohol “to get through the day.” When we suppress these experiences, they need to become more and more pronounced until we are finally forced to pay attention. A small headache becomes chronic tension headaches. A cold becomes pneumonia. As our bodies try to get us to slow down, and we ignore them, they finally force us to stop completely.

That issue is well documented. Even western doctors are finally discussing the problems associated with chronic stress and ignoring early warning signs. But there is another issue. And this one may be harder to grasp.

Our minds are not the only way we can understand. Our bodies create a different type of understanding when we are willing to truly experience. For example, in yoga teacher training, and in many of the classes I currently attend, I have learned about the inner spiral of the thighs. This helps protect the pelvis and stabilize the lower body. On an intellectual level, I get it. I can tell when participants in my class are doing it. But guess what? I have not been doing it appropriately. The same is true of a variety of minute details of postures. I can intellectually know I am not doing something, but until my body feels what it means to do it, I do not fully understand.

And therein lies the problem of trying to understand a yoga posture, of trying to make meaning out of pain. Sometimes, what we must do is simply experience. The experience has something to teach us. The body has something it wants to show us. We may never understand it on an intellectual level, but if we learn to fully experience it, the body will show us what we need.

Thus, the asana experience, although a small portion of the yoga sutras, has something unique to teach us. In its own way, it is about quieting the mind. While certainly there are moments where we cannot focus on the mind when we are so focused on the body, what the asana practice is finally beginning to teach me is that the mind is not the only understanding. Getting out of the mind and into the body is not just a way to de-stress; it is also a way to understand who we are. And perhaps that is the greatest wisdom.

What have you learned from your physical yoga practice? Are there even words to describe it?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

When the Body Does Not Behave

Apparently this is my week to write about old high school English teachers, but I have another story to tell about a different high school teacher. During my senior year in high school, my English teacher had to have open heart surgery. He said something to us before he left for his surgery and recovery that has stuck with me all these years. He said, “I always expected my body to work. It has always been there for me, and I always expected it to be there for me in the future.” Ok, that’s not an exact quote, but the sentiment is there and with my memory, that is about as good as it gets. 

Interestingly, like the English teacher I mentioned in the last post, this one had a profound influence on my current yoga path. Toward the end of the school year, as we all had senioritis and had finished taking a national examination, the teacher shared with us a practice he did daily – Tai Chi. It was my first encounter with any real breath-body practice, and I loved it! Absolutely loved it! Over the years, I have practiced Qigong, and I never can without thinking of my old English teacher and my gratitude to him for sharing that practice with me long before it was “in vogue” as they say.

But back to his other lesson – the body not behaving. I have written before about pain and injuries on this blog. For someone who is almost never sick, I seem to always be hurting myself in one way or another. I have pulled hamstrings doing yoga and hurt my shoulder in a way I still do not understand attempting a handstand. I have sprained both of my ankles, and the other day I even managed to drop a water bottle on my middle toe (and yes, only my middle toe) just before a yoga class. I never considered myself accident prone, but apparently it has caught up to me.

But I have not mentioned the nagging pain, the pain that ostensibly has no origin. What does that pain tell us about ourselves?

Yoga has given me a much greater appreciation for my body and all its intricacies. I notice muscles I never knew existed and can move in ways I never imagined possible. I was the kid who could not reach my knees on a seated forward fold in elementary school, and today I have the freedom, at times, to bring my nose to my knees. I still do not try handstands though. And I certainly cannot get into some of the more “advanced” postures, but that is not the point. From yoga, I have learned to understand my body and its cues like never before.

This understanding is how yoga can bring us peace in our bodies. When done safely and appropriately, yoga can be the healing salve our bodies so desperately need. So many people who start doing yoga find their pain decreasing, their sleep improving, and their breath getting deeper. Those are usually the first steps in a yoga practice. The body comes down from its intense modern stress and pain and relaxes into a new way of being.

But the honeymoon does not always last. What do we do when the body does not behave or stops behaving? What do we do when the practice becomes painful? What do we do when our bodies hold pain, and we do not know why? What do we do when the tools that have worked before no longer work? We do “everything” we can to care for it, and yet it still has trouble?

That is the great and frustrating part about yoga. The tools and learning are endless. When the ways that used to work no longer do, there are infinite new ways to help ourselves. To paraphrase Einstein, you cannot keep doing the same thing and expect a different result. This is the moment when new tools can come to the forefront.

If an intense asana practice is causing harm, try a restorative class. If you notice your breath is shallow, try new pranayama, or breathing, techniques. If you sit all day, try moving. As our practices deepen, our understanding of what our bodies need deepens as well. And the most profound lesson I learned in teacher training is also the simplest – “if it hurts, don’t do it!”

Even if you don’t know why the pain has begun, or why it persists, pain exists to tell us something. It is vitally important that we listen. When we ignore it for too long, it gets more intense, and eventually can become debilitating. But with the insight yoga provides, we can learn to tune in. We can learn to understand what our bodies need before they break down.

We can teach ourselves the skills to discipline our bodies before they stop behaving the way we would like.

How do you listen to your body?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

Lost Memories

I have trouble remembering things. I have very few solid memories of my childhood, and sometimes I forget conversations with friends last week. I have a feeling I am going to be one of those people who tells the same story several times to the same person because I can never remember if I told it before.

I have a friend, however, who remembers everything. She can remember what her family ate on a vacation 20 years ago. I know that when I need to remember an event in college, I can ask her. These past few years, I have thought about this a lot and wondered why some people have great memories and others do not. 

Moreover, it is not as simple as saying that I have a bad memory because that is not true. For some reason I can remember case law and case names, but I cannot remember the incredible adventures I have taken around the world. For that, I take photos. And I take a ton of photos – over 3000 since arriving in New Zealand in January. I want to remember. Traveling around the north island with new friends when I arrived, one of them did not take a lot of photos. Instead, he said, “I am remembering it.” I tried. Then I whipped out the camera. I did not want to forget. 

Of course, some photos were to share asana with the rainforest and prove that I was really doing Tree Pose Around the World.

But recently, especially through yoga, I have found my memories. They are not in my brain. They are in my muscles. When doing asana, I often have memories of these trips, memories of the past, even memories of my childhood. I remember things I thought I had forgotten. 

When you Google muscle memory, you get information about golf swings. After all, the best golfers use the memory of a previous game to play today. But that is not the muscle memory I mean. We actually store memories in our muscles. Emotions as well.  

At its simplest, pain is energy that is stuck in the body. Along with that stuck energy is the memory of what caused it to be stuck. When I started yoga teacher training, I was angry at the way yoga had become so body-centric in the United States. It was not until I began to truly understand the body and its knowledge that I learned to love asana for its ability to help us go deeper. When I learned about the koshas, I finally understood. Our bodies are the gateway to our inner selves.

But that means we have to deal with our bodies. We hold these memories in the body for any number of reasons. Often it is because we do not want to deal with them. Stress, something with which modern society is intimately associated, is our number one muscle memory. Headaches, lower back pain, and tight hips can all come from stress. With that pain, however, is the memory of that stress. Releasing the stress in the body can release those emotions and memories.

I hope it is obvious from the previous 100 posts that I think yoga is an amazing tool for handling our modern lives. It has so much to teach us from breathing techniques, to meditation techniques, to new ways to use and understand our bodies. But I also think that we need to be conscious of what it means to begin to tune in to these new ways of seeing the world. It means opening up memories we have stored. It means facing emotions we placed in our bodies, so our brains could forget them.

Western medicine and society are finally discussing the mind-body-spirit connection. What we hold in our bodies affects the mind and spirit, and around the triangle we can go. Recognizing this is an important step when integrating yoga into our daily lives. It is important because we must be aware that some days remembering is going to be difficult. Some days, yoga can make us more anxious.

The good news is that yoga also gives us the tools for handling those moments. When we notice a memory or emotion come up, breathe through it. There is nothing inherently good or bad about memories; they are just stored, and when we let them go, we can simply watch them and let the pain/tension dissipate. Several months ago, I posted a link to a story about how meditation can help decrease pain. I believe that our muscles as memory storage is the major reason why that is.

Of course, our memories are fallible, but that is a topic for the next post.

Do you notice memories arise during yoga? Do you ever notice a pattern to them?

Namaste.

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

License to Fidget

Have I mentioned how much I hate chairs? Seemingly unassuming, these flat ledges for our bums on top of four little legs are one of the most toxic additions to modern society. And yes, most lawyers (including me) spend hours upon hours per day sitting in them.

The problems are numerous – they tighten our psoas muscles, creating low back pain, they cut off circulation to our feet, and they force us to be in a position that nature never intended, certainly not for the number of hours per day we are there. But these are small potatoes compared to their allowing us to spend our days completely inactive.

The last post was about the bouncing foot syndrome that permeates law. The problem with the bouncing foot syndrome is that it is often caused by stress, and it is done usually unconsciously. Certainly, it is something about which we should be mindful, but is it all bad?

The NY Times reminded me again this week, however, that the bouncing foot syndrome serves another purpose, one that is far less problematic and is actually probably very good for us. When we bounce, we move, and when we move, good things happen in our bodies from a reduced waistline to increased brain power. Chairs mean we enter the physiology of inactivity (an old NY Times article on the topic), where our metabolism slows down, our neurons turn off, and disease begins to take over.

The good news is that the littlest movements make a difference. A recent study found that the difference between slim people and obese people who were forced to follow a strict diet without exercise was that the slim people just move more in general – the little movements, including tying shoes, and yes, bouncing feet. These little movement contract muscles and move neurons, and they help prevent the disease and other problems associated with the physiology of inactivity.

So what does yoga have to do with it? The difference between the bouncing foot “syndrome” and movement to counteract the physiology of inactivity is the very basis of yoga – mindfulness. To the outside observer, there may not be a difference. You, while sitting in a chair, can make these small movements, and others will not know whether they are stress-induced or mindful attempts to reduce the problems associated with our sedentary lifestyles.

To you, however, the difference is huge! It is also not discussed in either of the NY Times articles above. When we act from a place of mindfulness, asking our bodies to move, we are actually in the process of managing our stress rather than being controlled by it. Much of our stress is caused by the sedentary lifestyle, by the demands that we associate with sitting in a chair in front of a computer all day; we associate the desk with work and deadlines and stress. But if instead of allowing that stress to control us, we choose to control it, we can begin to move beyond the stress.

What can you do? Start by taking a breath. Ask yourself where your body wants to move. Is contracting your toes enough? Is tapping your foot enough? Is rolling your shoulders enough? Is standing up and sitting down enough? Do you need to take a walk down the hall? What does your body need now? The good news is that most of these little movements can be done while working at a desk, and each one will aid in counteracting the slowdown of metabolism and the stress caused by sitting all day long.

Call it your license to fidget – but to fidget mindfully.

Namaste. 

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

Integration - body, mind, spirit, and beyond

Today’s Reverb10 Prompt is another that hit close to home and hit on a topic I have considered a lot this year. It is: “Body Integration This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?”

Being a yoga teacher means that I have studied the body a lot. During teacher training, I found myself fascinated by the body, the physical body through anatomy and also the energetic body, for which I never had the words to describe. Then I learned about the koshas and finally, my fascination with the body was given words and expression. But today’s prompt is about something slightly different - when I felt the most integrated with the body. Interestingly, it will come back to the koshas, but from a different angle.

My lawyer background makes me want to determine the definition of integration. The prompt defines it as pure cohesion between body and mind. I would add spirit to the definition. This is the point where we are as close to balance as we can ever be, where our inner perfection begins to shine through to our outer lives.

This integration happens for me in two arenas, and they perfectly embody the reason for this blog - one is in yoga, and the other is professionally. Integration often begins on the yoga mat. Certainly, it does not happen every time, but it is through the body that I have begun to understand my mental/psychological world so much more. The body is the gateway to so much more, and as I have begun to believe this, the world has opened up for me. I have written about body awareness and its effect on me, several times, such as here and here, so I will not go anymore into it in this post.

Instead, the second arena is more pertinent to professionals. There is perfect body mind integration when I am doing work that I absolutely love to do. For example, at the AFCC conference in Denver earlier this year, where I was inspired over and over again, I remember barely feeling my body, yet being absolutely in tune with everything it told me. It allowed me to do exactly what the conference offered even though I was giving it little rest and poor nutrition. 

This professional integration is the moment when you are in flow, when time goes by, and you do not even notice that it has moved. For me, this happens when I am doing legal work that involves children, reading about children’s issues around the world. It inspires me in ways I cannot put into words, which is how I know that it is pure integration. It is the reason I am heading to New Zealand to study their family law system, in order to help make ours better. When studying these issues, the world is opportunity, and imagination is the only limit.

Everyone has their own moment of such flow. Everyone has times when their body speaks to them, sometimes we enjoy those moments more than others. But the point is that you learn to utilize these moments because it is in these moments of body-mind integration that we hit our peak state. It is where we are capable of changing not only our own lives, but the world. It is in these moments that anything is truly possible.

I recently took a class on achieving business success, but we focused on so much more than just business success. The class began by asking “why do you do what you do?” The class ended asking us, “what makes you tick?” When we know the answers to these questions, our integration is in the most perfect balance it will ever achieve, and in that state, anything is possible.

Thus, my answer to today’s prompt goes right back to the koshas - the different koshas interact until they come into their optimum state. From there, we eventually reach bliss/divinity. Those moments can begin at any point, but the important piece is that we recognize them.

When are you most integrated between your body and mind?

Namaste and Blessings!

© 2010 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved