Move it...or lose it...

This has been on my mind a lot recently. My dad was taken to the hospital this past Sunday because he was having severe back spasms and was unable to move his legs. Tests were normal, no injuries or structural (skeletal) cause for his symptoms. According to mom the doctors said they were due to inactivity and obesity.

My dad weighs over 250 pounds. Probably closer to 300 or 350. For at least the past 10 years, he has spent much of his time sitting in his La-Z-Boy recliner/lift chair. For the past year, his activity level has greatly decreased, and a few months ago, he began to use a walker to get around. He is 75.

He has been plagued by back problems, muscle spasms, arthritis and chronic back pain for most of his life. I have seen it wear him down slowly and steadily. I recall once he and I talked about the need to keep moving (this was years before I started yoga, I think it was back when I was a nurse) and he replied "Its hard to move when all you feel is pain." I couldnt argue with that. And I can still see his point, having had some of my own struggles with pain and inactivity in the past year. Our tendency when hurting, and I believe this is animal instinct, is to stay still, to not risk reinjuring ourselves, to allow our bodies time to heal and rest. The trick is to not stay still too long.

It used to be the recommended treatment for back pain was rest. Now it is a mix of rest and gentle stretching, with a gradual return to regular activity and a focus on building core strength and good posture and body mechanics.

Doctors and physical therapists have recognized that complete bedrest only serves to weaken muscles and actually makes pain worse.

Watching my dad slowly lose his ability to do for himself, to become more and more still, frozen, stiff...it has been hard for me. And hard on him too. He has worked most of his life at very physical jobs. He was a mechanic for over 40 years, and did odd jobs as well as that, all manual labor. He also had a pretty rough childhood, emotional and physical abuse. His body, I am sure, is worn out. Add in the emotional/ energetic wear and tear, and yes, you end up with a body full of pain and a man who seems to have given up on himself.

This morning during yoga class, I started to have some shoulder and back pain. I started to check out of class, to stop following-which has been my normal routine lately- these poses dont work for my body so I'll do something else for awhile, I'll catch up later. I went into child's pose- my go-to check out pose. I breathed there a few breaths, then a voice inside said "Keep moving. Move your 45 yr old self, for your 75 yr old self. You must keep going." I visualized myself at 75. How did I want to be? I wanted to be moving, doing yoga, still active. Tears flowed. "Im going to move, for my future self. And for Dad." I reminded myself that I didnt have to become still and in pain. I didnt have to take on his pain. And I had a body that could still move quite well, though sometimes it does get a little painful to do so.

I mentally and physically reconnected with the class, with what the teacher was instructing. I began to meet whatever pain and stiffness I felt with compassion. When my pelvis wobbled and felt very out of whack and unstable in Upper Body Triangle, I went into it, and asked what do you need to feel stable? How can I help? A little engagement of inner thigh muscles and lower abdominal muscles helped. I made a vow to schedule a yoga therapy session in the next week to work on this. ( and I did after class) While attending a workshop on assisting where it was brought to my attention that in Utkatasana my hips and pelvis went way over to one side (consequently I always feel very unstable in this pose)and where I referred to my pelvis as being crooked several times, I realized, that this was just continuing the story, reinforcing the "crookedness". I vowed to stop referring to my pelvis in that way. Its just a pelvis. :-)

As we were going into Savasana, the teacher said for us to let go of anything we were telling ourselves about our practice, about our abilities, about ourselves. Just let it go.

I let go of my story that I wasnt strong because I cant hold downward dog for very long anymore. I let go of the story that my body was deformed. Crooked. I let go of the fact that twists feel very uncomfortable for me right now when I used to love them so.

I just wish I could bring that ability to let that story go to my dad.  I wish I could help him find ways to move that dont hurt. I wish I could help him see that life is worth living. I wish I knew how to give support without being pushy. Cause I really want to go there and talk to his doctors and direct his care, and find him a good PT person, and maybe a home health aide so mom doesnt have to work so much -I tried that a couple years ago and it caused a huge uproar. To say my parents are a bit stubborn is a great understatement. :-)

Feeling quite out of the loop from 700+ miles away.

I know this is part of being a 40 something with aging parents.

How to convince someone who has known mostly pain for most of his life, that he must keep moving, that he will feel better if he keeps moving, when his experience has been the opposite-moving hurts...that is a difficult task.

Yoga-It's not about the poses

My current rant...and I apologize if this offends anyone. It's just where I am right now...fueled by a bit of disillusionment and grief. And, change.

Recently I have been becoming more and more dissatisfied with the yoga classes Ive taken or observed parts of.  They seem to be more about the poses, moving our body, usually in a quick flow, with very little thought given to breath or alignment or feeling. And sometimes safety. Very little centering, mostly just move here, move here, move this, move that, faster now, ok, cool down, Savasana.

Bleh.

And sadly, these seem to be the most popular classes.

I worry Im becoming a yoga snob. And maybe I am a bit biased.

But, mostly, I think Im just realizing that for me, yoga is not just about moving my body from one pose to another. It is about going inside, into my body, feeling and breathing into my tight hamstrings (left tighter than right usually) and letting them be tight. Its about sitting and breathing on my mat, and feeling my breath go from being shallow and erratic to smooth and deep in the course of 1 hour.It is about loving my slightly crooked pelvis and learning to adjust some poses to accommodate it. Its about learning to love my sometimes wobbly Warrior as much as I love the strong steady powerful one. Its about hearing an explanation of a pose of I've been doing for 6 years now and finally truly *getting* it. It is about spending several breaths in a pose because it feels sooo good. Its about staying in Legs Up the Wall long enough for my body to fully relax and my thoughts to slow down, even just for a few seconds. Its about feeling my heart burst open and tears of gratitude flow in Supported Fish.

It is not about how fast I can do Sun Salutations. It is not about how much I sweat. It is not about being sore the next day from that "kick ass yoga class" I took.

There have been exceptions...wonderful exceptions...mainly from 2 fellow Pranakriya teachers. One a recent graduate of the Atlanta 200 hr training and the other my teacher who recently returned to leading a weekly class. Both of these classes had something the others didnt. Body awareness. Anatomical details and languaging that created a deeper and different experience. Centering, spending a few minutes at the beginning of class to allow students to *arrive* inside, instead of getting right to the movement. Inviting students to listen to their bodies, to modify or ask for help with modifications if a pose didnt work for them.Or to do what feels right, even if its a different pose than what the class is doing. Breathing with movement...breathing into the movement. Breathing into the stillness.

I crave this deeper Yoga, the Yoga I love, the Yoga that has taught me to Love myself, even the dark side of myself.

The Yoga that has taught me everything is okay, even it feels like it isnt.