Survival 101: dropping back
I’ve heard that back bending can wake up the emotions — often in a tearful way. To the non-yogi, this whole business of “heart opening” may sound a bit wild minded but I can assure you that the stuff is powerful and real.
Understanding the why is less important than being aware that it just is. This past week, I have resumed my work on dropping back from standing into urdhva dhanurasana then returning to standing. Like in the beginning stages of learning to ride a bike, I am pretty reliant on having an assist in both directions. Although it is still scary, knowing that someone “has your back” lessens the fear factor.
In the mysore room, we have these foam pads which can be stacked against the wall to decrease the distance the yoga practitioner has to drop back onto. Even with an assist AND the foam pads, dropping back is still scary. There is a lot to remember: bandhas, rooting into your legs, keeping your hips forward, lifting your spine up out of your pelvis and your sternum (breastbone) up towards the sky…all while stretching out your arms and letting your body fall backwards. Although I have done it before, on my own even, every attempt feels like the first. Scarier even.
On Tuesday, after being assisted three times, I was left to go it alone. I stood there in front of the blocks, lifting up, and back, up and back, up and back, and…never quite going all the way down to have my hands land on the pads. Each time, I would look for the spot where my hands were to land, not quite see it, and chicken out. After many minutes, my teacher came over and helped me. Then she left again and told me it was time to do it all by myself. Memories of my dad trying to convince me that I could ride a two wheeler without training wheels OR HIM holding the back of my bike came to mind. I smiled. Them came the memory of me falling when, while riding my two-wheeler, I soon discovered that he was no longer running beside me. I’d was doing it, but only because I was sure he had my back (or bike in this case).
It was the same but different. I took the memory and reminded myself that I was riding my bike all by myself. I then told myself that I didn’t need my teacher to hold my back any more than I needed my dad to hold that bike. Of course, I wasn’t 100% sure that this was true but I tried to convince myself. My teacher, from across the room, as well as my fellow mysoreans in the room started whispering, “you can do it.” So… FINALLY I did it! Then, I quickly moved to close my practice. Mission accomplished.
Then came Wednesday…
I finished the primary sequence, began the process of redirecting my spine from forward folding to back bending, then grabbed my stack of pads. I stacked them up neatly, wrapped my mat around them like wrapping paper, and took my place in front of them. I rooted into my foot, concentrating on pushing down through my big toe mounds and heals. I engaged mula bandha and uddiyana bandha, and trying to feel everything pulling in towards midline, I began lifting up out of my pelvis and up towards the heavens. Then I reached my arms up and, while concentrating on continuing to lift up, I began dropping backwards.
The wall came into view first. I lifted up and leaned back a little further and saw the base of the pads. The edge where my hands was to land, however, was no where in sight. Fearing that going back any further would be disastrous, I tried letting my head drop back only. But instead of seeing the edge of the pads, I felt my throat tighten. The result was impressive — in a not so good way.
This feeling of my throat tightening is not unfamiliar. The feeling is akin to a time when I felt my whole world closing in on me. Fortunately, I stood back up just in time — for the beginnings of sobs were close at hand. I got all choked up (literally). A few minutes after I’d resumed my composure, my teacher came over and stood beside me. Figuring it was as close to an assist as I was going to get, I began again and, this time, went all the way down.
My hands landed on the mat just as the sobs began. I could hardly hold myself up with arms (or so it seemed). My teacher came over and gently put her hands on my back and talked me up until I was standing in front of her still crying. I wanted to hug her and sink into her embrace but I didn’t. Instead, I found my connection to the here and now by hearing her say, “You are okay.” Indeed, I was okay.
Today, I almost didn’t go; I woke feeling sore and spent. The pull to stay in bed was strong. Since I arrived late, and am still slow to get through my practice, I ran low on time so I opted for drop backs to the wall. I can’t tell you how relieved that I didn’t have to face my fears and reawaken the emotional turmoil of years past. However, I know it all will be there waiting for me next time. I am guessing that it might be even more intense because of me avoiding the work today. Fortunately, I can find comfort in knowing that, like all of the hurdles and tough experiences that life has handed me so far, somehow I have managed to make it through. I will survive this too.
…and then there will be another challenge.