…Allow me to explain.

Last week, I spent some time exploring different situations –  a sunny patch of grass, a crowded subway car, my favorite cozy café, Danurāsana (“wheel pose”) –  as supported space in which to be and breathe. Usually when we talk about “yoga off the mat” we’re talking about the ways in which we live the practices of yoga beyond asana. But in this case, I wanted to see what it would be like to move through the day specifically as an asana practice. How can we most directly apply asana practice to everyday life off the mat?

Asana is described in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali using the Sanskrit terms sthira and sukha. Sthira suggests effort but not struggle or force, effort that is easeful. Sukha reflects a natural, fluid state of comfort. Asana is, by this definition, a steady, comfortable seat (‘seat’ being shorthand for a way of holding the body, a way in which to be). 

Being in a Yoga Pose

Pulling together this definition of asana and an understanding of the body as a dynamic channel for energy to move through, the experience of asana becomes ‘a supported place to be and breathe.’ (Sounds nice, yeah?). This does not remove effort or action. It guides the effort toward steadiness and suppleness, rather than strain and rigidity. The asana does not require a particular external geometry that must be achieved, it only requires support and space for breath to move through.

This means that the shape your body makes in a yoga pose isn’t the point of the pose. I’m just gonna repeat that, contrary as it is to our conditioning as modern practitioners  — the shape isn’t the goal. We practice for the experience of practicing the asana ( “being” ) and the movement of prana ( “breathing” ). Practicing in this way, all your energy and attention can be focused on being where you are, rather than trying to get somewhere else (into a certain aesthetic version of the pose). As Eric Schiffman writes, “where you are in the pose is the pose, for you.” 

In his book Moving Into Stillness Schiffman writes of Yoga asana as a wholehearted practice - that is, no part of you is trying to be someplace else. When you are fully present to what you’re doing, there’s less conflict within you, less friction. Effort becomes more easeful. And because you’re spending less energy reaching for the ‘not-here,’ you feel more energetic, more alive, where you are. 

Breathing in a Yoga Pose

Ok, we’ve covered the ‘being’; let’s talk about breathing. Breathing delivers oxygen through the bloodstream into your cells so that they can produce energy, and then expels the toxic by-product of these reactions, carbon dioxide. Your breath, and the quality of it, impacts every system in your body, and it’s the only vital function in your body that is both automatic and voluntary. (Respiration, the process that exchanges oxygen and carbon dioxide, is automatic, but we can influence this process by the way in which we breathe). 

We don’t have to consciously remember to breathe. Sometimes, though, we need to remember to allow our bodies to breathe freely. We can hold our breath, hold tension, or hold a yoga pose in such a way that breath can’t get through. Sometimes we do this intentionally, when we perform breath retention or breath control, but that’s probably a tiny fraction of your practice. The rest of the time, you’d benefit from practicing in a way that maximizes space for breath. 

Putting it all Together

Here’s the pitch: when you practice asana as supported places to be and breathe with wholehearted presence, more energy and ease is available to you, on and off the mat. 

You can make space within effort for ease. Instead of forcing your body into a particular external geometry (aka trying to be somewhere else), you can use that muscular and mental effort to create space. You can assess your internal and energetic alignment and then hold yourself in such a way that allows for breath to move freely, and allows you to move into the next asana with intention and grace. More than holding a pose, you can hold space for the pulsing, flowing energy of creation and allow it to move through. Woah.

Can you do that today, or the first time you try it? Maybe, maybe not. But certainly you can move toward it - move toward space and ease and breath - every time you practice. In class you’ll often hear me say “let the shape breathe.” It’s a gentle nudge toward this way of being that is wholehearted, that allows us to use energy wisely and to access ease and grace, even in challenging times. 

Taking it Off The Mat (again)

There are big, challenging times in our lives and in our existence together, when ease and grace feel out of reach, and it’s all we can do to find one deep breath. Regular practice can support and energize us through these big waves of life, helping us find the space to breathe. But it’s not always so dramatic. There are packed subway cars and long security lines and toddler tantrums; sun-dappled pathways and quiet cathedrals and the first blackberries of summer. What if all these moments could be treated as supported space to be and to breathe, and experienced with wholehearted presence? How much more energy and ease would be available to us?

Asana practice supports us — and challenges us — to show up fully, move with intention, and hold ourselves with grace. My nerdy little experiment reminded me of that much. I hope it can be a reminder for you too. //

p.s.

I wrote most of this on the train home from Paris, whose cobblestone streets and meandering gravel paths I had been walking for a couple of days. When we arrived in Marseille, it was raining a little inside the train station, through sections of the roof where the glass panes are missing. 

Because of construction in the station, you have to go outside and down the grandiose staircase or around the building on a ramped sidewalk to get to the metro (subway). Neither option is particularly suitcase-friendly and I was tired and hungry and spiraling toward a classic toddler pout&whine – then I laughed at myself, because I had literally just written this whole post. 

This moment, I thought to myself, is a sustained Warrior II in the last twenty minutes of class when all you want is Savāsana. You could whine about it and wait for it to end or you could remember that this moment (and the whole practice) is a freaking gift of a place to be and breathe. I stopped. I let a breath fill me up and roll through as a sigh. I softened, just like I would settle into a Warrior II, or onto my meditation blanket, or a shaded Parisian park bench, and set off toward home. //