The Space Between

In the last few weeks, it has become evident that the season is changing. The sun is setting earlier, there is a distinct chill in the morning air, and my neighborhood walks are punctuated by the sound of crunching leaves. With the arrival of fall, friends and family are inquiring about my Christmas plans and I am reminded that the holidays are just around the corner. I've seen several festive displays in stores and I'm already getting email alerts promoting holiday deals. It's as if summer ended and someone hit the fast forward button, skipping over fall in its entirety. 

This made me think about transitions, which happen so frequently in life and also on our yoga mats. Consider a typical vinyasa class. Students may transition from one pose to another dozens of times in one hour. Yet our focus tends to be on the actual poses. We are in a forward fold, then a low lunge, and then a plank. Once we get into a pose, we adjust ourselves according to the teacher's cues so we can perform the pose to our best ability. We hold the pose and breathe, bringing exquisite awareness to our bodies in that moment as we continue to fine tune our position.

Yet in the moments when we move from one pose to another, do we keep this same level of attention or do we shift to autopilot? We are still doing yoga–still breathing and moving with our breath. But we seem to lose our focused awareness in the transitions. We put all our concentration and energy into perfecting a posture and then we just let everything go, including our attention. This might be why it is common for yoga injuries to happen as we exit a pose. 

Off the mat we jump from pose to pose on autopilot, too. When we become dissatisfied with a job we grab for the next opportunity, assuming it will make us happier than our current one. When a relationship starts to have problems, we begin to look for other possibilities. And while there is nothing wrong with changing jobs or wanting to improve our situation, I think we can "injure" ourselves by trying to speed through these transitions without giving them the attention they deserve.

If we are dissatisfied with something in our life, do we listen closely to what we are feeling and explore why we feel that way? Or do we simply dive into the next thing, effectively distracting ourselves from our dissatisfaction? When we reach an edge and feel that change is necessary in our life, we are given a juicy opportunity to learn about ourselves. We have an opening to discover what we are afraid of and how we have been conditioned to respond to that fear. If we bring our attention to these internal struggles, we can gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and can make an informed choice about the change we want to make. We can act instead of react.

The space between two poses is a pose in itself, and each one is equally deserving of our attention.

Remember to Breathe

Remembering to breathe may seem like a silly recommendation. After all, we breathe through every minute of every day, and we don't have to stop to think about it. It's automatic. Yes, you may notice your breath when you lose it suddenly (like after intense exercise) or when you are sick and your chest is tight, but the fact remains that most of us don't pay any attention to our breathing on a regular basis. 

I had practiced breathing exercises intermittently in yoga classes, but sometimes they seemed a little unusual. In one technique, you breathe in through one nostril and out through the other, and I was initially put off by this because I didn't want to be so intimate with my nose. Plus there wasn't much detail thrown in about why it was important to practice these exercises, so I wasn't exactly rushing home after class to dig up more information. I figured I had breathing pretty much down, and I would just focus on trying to keep it in sync with my postures.

But all that changed during my teacher training program. I was introduced to the why and how of pranayama, or controlled breath, and the effect that it has on the mind and body. Through my own practice and experience, I started to notice how the benefits of pranayama could impact my life off the mat, too.

I grew up in a family that saw conflict as something to be avoided. If I was mad at my sister, even for legitimate reasons, it wasn't acceptable. We might be forced to apologize and hug it out until we could agree to play together nicely. I learned early in life to keep my mouth closed and my feelings under wraps whenever a situation activated strong emotions. It wasn't okay to express them. And I carried this with me into adulthood. 

I probably don't need to point out that this isn't a great coping mechanism for living in the real world. We are constantly confronted with emotionally difficult situations, and I often do not handle them successfully. If I get into an argument with my partner and he says something that hurts my feelings, or worries me, or makes me mad, I am unable to accept what he is saying. Immediately I'm in my head, thinking about how he has it all wrong. Or being overrun with fear about something that hasn't even happened yet. Or deciding what I can say to shift the blame away from myself. Meanwhile, I'm stuffing all the painful emotions I'm feeling deep inside and throwing up a wall to protect myself.

I might physically look like I am present in these conversations, but I'm not. I'm not able to listen. I can't process what my partner is actually saying. Instead I am creating stories (that are often only slightly relevant to the situation at hand) in my head and reacting to them. And as you can imagine, it's hard to find a solution when you and your partner are not even in the same conversation.

Cue the breath! Remembering to breath has dramatically changed how I respond in these emotional situations. This simple thing that we practice over and over again in yoga class–bringing your attention to your breath–has made it possible for me to stay in the conversation. If my attention is on my breath, I have a single point of focus. My mind is in the here and now, which means it can't be composing elaborate stories about what is happening. If my attention is in the present moment, then I'm not lost in my head. I can listen. I can feel the emotions that come up and give them space and permission to exist. I can accept when someone says something about me that I don't like. I can let it sit there and not get carried away. I can keep breathing. 

Of course this is easier said than done. I don't always remember to breathe, but when I do the conversation is always much more productive–even if the subject is extremely painful. Placing my attention on my breath has allowed me to turn excruciating moments into opportunities to grow as a person. That's worth practicing.