by Kim Lally
In yoga, like life for many of us, we find our way onto our mat in a quest to find an enlightening moment, a moment of clarity, of all knowing. Of contentment, bliss, synergy.
When it happens, it’s kinda like hitting the jackpot on a slot machine. Line up the right pieces, and the bells ring and the coins flow. These moments are elusive, but limitless. Unprescribed, but predictable. I have no idea about slot machines, but in yoga, it happens for me when the stuck layers start to unstick. When layer by layer, the heart is unearthed to reveal the soul.
In a hot sweaty Bikram class long ago, the first time I felt this was in Rabbit pose. Of all places. With the top of my head on the mat, the sweat dripping from my chin into my eyes. My sweaty palms reaching for my just-as-sweaty heels and slipping. Then the tears started.
Somehow, I found my way to those ‘fiery gates of hell’ as a friend called that Berkeley studio. A yoga seed had been planted, probably by my friend Jane who completed an amazing 1000 hours (!) of training at Piedmont Yoga School and taught yoga to a group of friends in my attic. A few years later, in the midst of being a perplexed parent of a challenging teenager, I was on my mat in Bikram. I never expected what happened next.
At that moment in rabbit pose, with tears flowing that no one would notice (after all, everyone was dripping sweat), I knew that I could finally stop. Stop the pretending. Right then. Stop feigning that life was cupcakes and unicorns. Stop saying yes when I desperately wanted to say no. Stop smiling when I needed to scream.
But what I didn’t know was how to start. Start allowing myself to really be me. To give my always smiling self permission to be angry and grouchy, quiet and withdrawn. To pause and find my words. To proudly claim my power.
Right then I was hooked. I needed to be here, on this mat, 90 minutes of moving my body and breathing deeply into each cell of my being. Focusing my mind on my practice, opening and strengthening and softening and accepting … physically, emotionally, spiritually...all at the same time.
A few years of Bikram and then hot sweaty vinyasa transformed this adrenalin-fueled runner into a weekly yoga practitioner. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Definitely not more sweat. Just more... something…..
I found a yoga studio on Piedmont Avenue that became a sanctuary. It was bright and airy and had cheerful staff and incredible teachers. One Saturday morning, I wedged my mat into a packed class and a mite-sized strawberry blonde instructor led us in a practice that transformed everything. It was a chiropractor for my body, a therapist for my thoughts, a pillow for my weary head, loving arms to soften my tired and fearful heart. It was Annie Carpenter’s SmartFLOW. In this class, my body worked, my mind paused, my heart was held and I cried in savasana. Every. Single. Time.
I’m a terrible fighter. I’d rather give in than argue. I can never find the words in the heat of a confrontation. My mind goes blank. Dead space. Static buzz. But in yoga, my pause became my words. My breath filled the pause. My prana - life force, energy - coursed through my cells and my soul. As my breath worked through me, the words came. My power seeped in during that pause, that space.
‘Y’all Breathin?’
Each time Annie says this, I think ‘she just caught me!’ But, (shocking), it’s not just about me. It‘s all of us. When it gets hard, we stop breathing. In the transition from revolved triangle to revolved half moon .. I definitely stop breathing. Just like in the heat of an argument. The life force, the balance, the power - it stops, paralyzed, stuck and wobbling.
This breathing thing, it turns out, is important. Like other innate body functions - our heart that beats or our stomachs that churn - lungs just breathe. But unlike the stomach or the heart (thankfully), our mind can overrule the lungs. Like when things get tough…. And we don’t even realize we are holding our breath. Until we do. There’s a microsecond of pause. Realization. And breathe again. In that pause is the moment of change.
It’s the moment the magic starts. The chance we get to listen to that voice inside. To deeply look within and see our heart revealed. That’s when Richard asks “who’s the breather?” Who are we right now? Today? In this moment? Who do you see?
A bundle of nerves, I committed to a 200 hour Teacher Training with Annie. I was nowhere near as practiced as the other yogis. They pressed into a handstand on command. Those 22 days were hard. It wasn’t just my practice that got stripped to its core. Every wall I built around my heart, every blanket I cloaked over my soul - Annie held space for all of this to fall away. Layer by layer. And then rebuild. Set a solid foundation and stack the pieces on top to both fit together but make space. Whether in Triangle pose or in my own heart. Seeing where I need to do the work and where I need to soften a little. My jaw, my face, maybe the corners of my mouth. :)
And now I find myself the steward of that beautiful yoga studio. How did I get here? How do I stay? In those moments when I’m questioning the next steps, either with my family, my life or my yoga studio, I find myself on my mat, often in SmartFLOW, and next comes just what I needed. Exactly what had to open and soften, strengthen and align, so that my breath could calm my mind to allow my soul to reveal my truth.
And that is magic.