E-x-t-e-n-d a Little

Today's pose, extension.

I need e-x-t-e-n-s-i-o-n. The word sounds good, doesn't it? Cindy Dollar, my yoga teacher, says it is crucial for creating space between one body part and another. At fifty I am having a harder and harder time separating body parts so yeah, today it is all about extension.

Extension is a forward bend. It can be standing poses or sitting poses. I'm pooped after a night out and a day of work, so I'm opting for the sitting pose of Janu Sirsasana or Head to Knee Pose.

Head to Knee Pose is number fourteen in Cindy's book (she wrote a book called Yoga Your Way, but as my teacher, she never really lets me do ANYTHING my way--don't tell her I said that.) Head to Knee Pose is listed right before Headstand Part 1 pose, or Salamba Sirsasana which is also considered an extending pose. I find it very intimidating. It'll have to wait for another day.

I begin Head to Knee Pose by sitting on the center of my buttock bones. They are actually somewhat hard to find, I am embarassed to admit. My legs are extended on the floor in front of me. Cindy says to pull one leg in, bending it at the knee while keeping my other leg straight. Ultimately, I will e-x-t-e-n-d over my straight leg, back concaved, sacrum drawn in, while pressing the bent leg down to the floor. The focus is on elongating my sides (really?) and the goal is reaching my straight leg's foot while having my head on my chins and my abodomen in line with my straight leg.

Wait a minute, you say. I did that "pose" in gym in grammar school. Why is it special? Why does it get some groovy Sanskrit name? Remember, people, it is yoga. Yoga always surprises me. Let it surprise you too. No expectations here.

And, I am surprised. Who knew my sides were tight? I knew touching my toes never came easy to me, and that my shoulders stay tight, but my sides? I never really thought about them at all.

Seems they need me too. Stretching my arms up over my head, lifting them as high as I can, and then slowly leaning forward over my straight leg while keeping that lift, and therefore the stretch in my sides, feels like a massage. I groan in sheer pleasure, the kind of sigh you let out when you first step into a hot bath.

So, I e-x-t-e-n-d-e-d my five minute time and went for ten minutes, repeating the pose three or four times. Cindy recommends two minutes per side. I set the timer for two minutes but then tossed it aside and just enjoyed the feeling of e-x-t-e-n-s-i-o-n. It is good. It deserves the Sanskrit name.

How do Camels Breath?

Cindy, my yoga teacher, teaches a kind of yoga called Iyengar. She has also written a book entitled Yoga Your Way, which I use when I'm not at her studio in Asheville (yes, the guru town of Asheville, NC, of which I am the lone native). Her teaching and book are modeled on the method of some famous dude in India (B.K.S. Iyengar) who perfected this format. Cindy goes to the Iyengar Institute in India frequently to study. I am seriously envious because I generally get no farther than the grocery store. Books, no matter the type, tell us as much about the author as the subject. Humans have a fascination with each other's stories and so I skim around the edges of all those descriptions and benefits of poses to see what I can discover about Cindy. Her life seems so exotic compared to mine, but I'm off topic here. Back to the next pose.

Today's pose, Camel Pose or Ustrasana, is a funky little back bend. When I was a girl in my parent's home, I watched TV from the position of a back bend on the living room floor. I marvel at how easy it was for me to pop up, wrists turned backward, feet pushing me higher and it felt so good. I remember how easy it was to breath after doing that. I don't do that now. I watch TV from my couch now.

Fortunately, Camel Pose does not require this complete back bend stance. I will be on my knees, hands reaching for my ankles, neck dropping completely back, literally hanging in mid-air, my spine coiled into my back, my chest open wide. The total time Cindy allows for this pose is thirty seconds. Thirty seconds, then come out of the pose (carefully) and then thirty seconds again. It is enough.

Cindy gives you reminders when you're in the pose. She instructs that while your body is bent backward and your arms are trembling with the weight, to press again into your lower legs and press your hands again into your heels, then lift your sternum higher. There is a reason for this. This action between my legs and my arms creates a sort of stronghold, a structure which supports me in the pose. Once supported I am freer to lift my sternum, coil my spine, and open my chest. I can work in the pose.

Here's what I discover in this pretty awkward position. I've got to breath to stay here. My breath comes rapidly at first. I'm afraid my arms are going to give out before my timer and I'll be in a heap soon. So, I breath. Breathing stablizes me. It slows down the panic, allows me to concentrate, to press my hands into my ankles, press my legs down and be strong again--for thirty seconds.

I have another friend, also named Cindy (must have been a popular name 50+ years ago), and she works in the medical field. She doesn't advise smoking, but she does advise doing what smokers do. "Smokers," she says, "take breaks to breath."

Camel Pose is a breathing pose. That's what I accomplished today, breathing.