Utkatasana (Fierce Posture) is a simple but strong standing asana that works the glutes, thighs, and back while stretching the achilles tendons and soleus muscles of the lower legs.
Stand with your feet together. Bend your knees, extend your arms overhead, and lift your gaze to the thumbs. Drop your tail and scoop the belly up and in to support your back. Ground into your heels as you sit your hips and use the inhales to reach up out of your pelvis by lengthening the torso. Feel the opposing actions of the posture as you breathe fully into the upper chest.
To refine the posture, roll your triceps in with an external rotation of the arms and press your palms together to engage the chest and sides. Alternatively, for those with very tight shoulders, keep the hands shoulder-width apart or even open the arms to a Y-shape to help relax the shoulders down while maintaining the upward energetic expression of the pose. Stay for 5-10 breaths as you continue to find your way into a deeper sit and a higher reach.
In spite of the mid-week moon day temporarily derailing the train, my practice has settled into a comfortable, steady clip. It feels good in my body. I am finding strength and space without the persistent soreness of daily Primary. Not only that, but I have made peace, it would seem, with the effort.
I would be lying if I claimed that there are never mornings when it feels a chore to lay out the mat, but I slip into the rhythm quite easily, even on the hardest of days, and take joy in the work without the heavy ambition of previous years.
You may have noticed I am writing less about the details of my practice. Writing less in general, really. There is a reluctance to rehash the minutia. All is well, just auditing my energies. I am in the midst of a rebound from a period of violent expansion. Feeling overexposed and wishing to hole up somewhere quiet, but work is keeping me out and about. Daydreams of yoga vacations in Goa or Maui ("vacations" meaning intensive work with amazing teachers, obviously...) have been dancing through my mind this week.
The switch to morning asana practice has streamlined my mornings, creating a nice, open space in the afternoon or early evening in which to sit. Some weeks ago, I read a bit about Zen meditation to give my sitting practice some structure. At first, the reading was helpful, but as soon as I tried to read up and really inform myself on the method, it became obvious that too much instruction is counterproductive to the process. It was nearly enough to be given a posture, given a gaze, and told to watch the thoughts and breath.
Sound familiar?
To look into it much more, at least for me at this time, would be like pouring a bucket of murky water into a sink that won't drain. You've got to let the debris settle and manually remove the blockage before anything can get through.
The blog may be going through a structural reformatting soon. Still ruminating on that. In the meantime, I've got a couple of product reviews coming at you in the near future. Stay tuned.
Pincha Mayurasana (Feathered Peacock Pose) is a challenging inverted arm balance that demands strong shoulders, abdominals, and, most of all, focus.
Pincha can be especially intimidating because the face is so close to the floor. There may be a fear of falling on one's face as if the arms are not strong enough, but, in reality, if you should fall out of the posture, you are more likely to flop over than to collapse because integrated core strength is much more crucial to sustaining this balance than powerful arms.
That being said, don't flop over; which is not to say, "don't fall." By all means, fall! Fall your little heart out. Just don't flip or flop. Tuck and roll. Set your head down and roll out. You'll be fine. If you don't believe me, keep practicing Sirsasana (Headstand) and Dolphin Pose until you feel ready.
So, now that you know how to fall, let's talk about how NOT to fall. Start with a solid foundation. From a kneeling position, set the elbows shoulder-width on the mat. First, lay the hands down with the palms up to encourage the shoulders to broaden. Then turn the palms down, spread the hands, ground the wrists, and bring readiness to the fingertips. Tuck your toes under, lift your hips, and walk your feet in as far as you can. Try to position the shoulders over the elbows as in the full posture. Set your gaze somewhere south of the thumbs so your neck is not overextended, then lift one leg high in the air, keeping the hips square.
With an inhalation, push off gently with the back foot as you pull up with the lifted leg. Do not kick or swing. Remember: small movements. Don't overdo it. You will end up in something like this:
From there, slowly scissor the legs together at the center, point the feet, and lift the toes to the sky. It is common in those with tight shoulders for the elbows to slide apart and the hands to smush together. You can put a book or block between the hands to stabilize your foundation, OR (listen up, Ashtangis!) you can try this fabulous cheat via Swenson: put the tips of the thumbs together.
A solid drishti is essential. Find a pulled thread on your practice rug, a piece of lint, or (my favorite) an errant dog hair, and stare that sucker down. Remember your bandhas and don't forget to breathe.
Interesting practice this morning. Yesterday, I experienced a great deal of post-practice discomfort deep in the right hip, just anteriorly of the joint, and felt as though my leg were more externally rotated than normal. Then today in practice, the hip was stupid-open. Janu C was at a whole new level. Garbha P was no problem, arms and all. The entry to Urdvha Padmasana was easier than ever. It was amazing.
Then... something happened. In Sirsasana, or rather, just after Sirsasana, in child's pose. Face to the mat. Tears. Accompanied by a river of memories revealing the importance of a great teacher from my past, an importance that had been lost on me until now. From there, the faces of other influential teachers sprang forth, one after another, and suddenly I found myself looking back on a long line of generous mentors and illuminators with a clarity that unveiled an exciting continuity, a pattern of ascension that I have never recognized before.
With my sweet and patient mother. I'm helping, see?
I don't have many crying episodes in practice... in fact, I can think of only one... but this was different. I was deeply overcome with gratitude. I stayed in my prostration and wept, sending thanks to my teachers -- who have arrived in both animal and human form -- for their gifts, their sacrifice.
That is what it is, you know, the teaching: self-sacrifice. Perhaps not to the point of death, and surely this is more true in some fields than in others, but I believe it applies to teaching in every level and form. Yoga comes to mind as one of the obvious realms. Many aging teachers, particularly those of the Ashtanga tradition, travel almost constantly. They sacrifice their practice and their bodies so that we may have a chance to save ourselves.
With Jericho, one of my greatest teachers.
This karmic exchange is beautiful and sad, and I have sensed it within those who have been most influential in my life, who have taught from the heart, with honesty, love, and respect. This willingness not only to give but to give of oneself has shown in those who have been patient and, in doing so, taught me to have patience, in those who have been kind and taught me kindness, and in those who have been bold and taught me to be bold, to use my gifts, and to always chase the truth.
As I step, once again, into the role of teacher, the inevitability of this cycle is not lost on me. Perhaps this is the shift. I have cultivated my own gifts in fertile ground, nourished by the wisdom of my teachers. I feel a ripening. Perhaps now is the time for harvest, time to share the fruit.
There has been a balmy shift in climate here in Austin this week. The weather is unseasonably warm and humid, so the yoga has been sweet and sweaty. I am still loving my practice especially much. Some days, I step off the mat feeling as though I am walking on air, really just so open and full of life.
Today, I lost myself so completely in the sensation and the flow that I forgot Pasasana and went right through the warriors, into Primary through Purvottanasana before I realized what I had done. Oops. But perhaps it was what my body needed. Paschimottanasana took care of a tweak in the back that had been bugging me, and the inclusion of Purvo showed as extra space in Bhekasana.
As for Pasasana, I have not bound this posture in some time. As a rule, I am giving myself less time to work into the postures, which may account for it in some way. There is also the fact that I am practicing earlier in the day and without the Marichyasanas as preparation for the twist. Pasasana is one of the few postures that makes me wish I practiced regularly with a teacher. Pasasana and Dwi Pada...
And Karandavasana. I know last week I mentioned that it might be time to tack it on, but I am having second thoughts. While my hips have opened considerably in recent months, I cannot get my legs into a safe lotus without the use of my hands, which precludes Karandavasana.... unless I modify.... which I might do.
Then again, I am not Dwi Pada-ing on my own, so my practice time might be better spent on LBH preparations than on moving forward in the series at this time. The postures that follow Pincha -- my present stopping point -- aren't going to help me get my shoulders open for a consistent heel grab in Kapo, either.
So that settles it. I'm staying put for now. On days when I want a longer practice, I can just put a bit of Primary in there before going on to Intermediate. In the future I hope to do this consciously, not unconsciously as I did today. Bad lady.
On the topic of teachers or lack thereof, one of the great things about having a teacher is that they will tell you when you are horribly crooked in a posture, even if your body won't. Years of balancing heavy trays of food exclusively on my left hand have left me with a shortened right side. My right hip cocks up. My right shoulder pulls down. This feels natural, but I am working to correct this. Recently, the imbalance is showing up in Kapo, so I decided to grab a video (my sometimes-substitute for a teacher) from a different angle to see what's going on.
The first thing I noticed was the excess tension in my right hand as I take the arms back. Then I start to veer right and that trend continues all the way to the floor. Granted, it is not dramatic, in large part because I am very aware of the imbalance and doing my best to compensate with the information that I have. Then there's the issue of the wide elbows; this is me working really hard to pull them in. Feet were extra slippery today so I couldn't get a good grip to pull against.
The arms are excessively bent in Kapo B -- feeling super tight in the shoulders lately -- but I work to push them a little bit straighter on every exhalation. All in all, it felt good and I was pleased with the jump through that follows, as evidenced by the sweaty, panting, post-Kapo grin.
